WTF

Morgan:
Cherish not the thought of horribleness, but strangle the fear pillow of dixon 9… where shit scrawled on walls never updates nor shrinks in the face of adverisity! I am green, but I have a blue mask and face it not to the east.

The Shitposting Hermit:
what

Morgan Gavin:
Trust the god of the green, for the Bue is not True, and the Red must end the blood streak of the tenth moon!

King:
whaat???

Morgan Gavin:
for what dream may shit upon the nightmare of others, for does not good strangle the fears of evil while the dreams are infants? Still screaming to the assignments of failed glue sticks? That which dreams not of the elvel ten, that which screams the blood moons of the florf may not Grasp even the strandiest strands of the Golden Strands of psychobabbli! FEAR THE FEAR PILLOW! As it smothers the courage that no not of the courage blanket that covers the fear pillow! thomas the Train is an agent of the Nightmares of police! for what hidden tension lay beneath that smile, so innocent, so benign, for only a psychosis of pikagirl pokeworld! Pika pika pika pika! Tenth level NOOOOOOOT, Noot noot noot, TO THE FUCKING TWITLONGER or was it q? maybe it was seven? Or twelve? Or maybe flower? Potato? It’s potato.

The Shitposting Hermit:
fear pillow… what

Morgan Gavin:
what if pokeballs were secretly waffle irons? HOW DARE YOU GRILL THAT PICHU!

King:
shut your soul

Morgan Gavin:
You shut yours! The tenth moon of the second ring will shut it for you! We scream out at the deliverance of the Fear pillow, we scream and shed the feathers of darkness to embrace our inner Emo Robot!

thy_undying: The crimson king will rise from its crypts

Morgan Gavin:
For the Emoji movie will be withus, no matter the cost of our very souls! Shall the abandoned Emoji of broken Nokia phones haunt us to our very graves and beyond!? The Crimson king doesn’t hold a fucking candle to the emoji movie. our Lord and savior! Beyond the edginess of My Name J.E.f.f… Justice Education Fantastic Four

thy_undying:
the candle will burn the oozing mold from those cursed emojis

Morgan Gavin:
the ooze will scream in repulsion as the Grim Iron Reaper will without its fart of reverance for you, BEWARE THE FART OF REVERANCE FOR YOU WILL DRAMA ALERT YOU PANTS! epidermis be sworn!

The Shitposting Hermit:
what the hell

Morgan Gavin:
Don’t fear the shittier poster!

thy_undying:
the sharp edge of the scythe, will cut the weak from the soil

Morgan Gavin:
for the Undying will love the forliving with the furious batter ram of syco the wunderhound! May his eternal butt sweep be our undoing! for the Fear Pillow will smother everything that the Courage blanket hates, and the evil screams by swept unto the old mans rug of determination… ALL WILL FAIL THE SANS TEST OF NO MERCY!

The Shitposting Hermit:
praise KEK. brother!

thy_undying:
The love for the undying will be long forgotten in the deep depths of hell

Morgan Gavin:
The Kermit Eternrnal Kevil

thy_undying:
undone by those beyond our grasp

Morgan Gavin:
The Kevil will be more evil than Evil or kevin combined, for their Paint cans of mercy will condemn the souls of the wet bandits to a sacrificial alter of blood letting and glitter bombs!

thy_undying:
the rug will be lifted out from under

The Shitposting Hermit:
“wet”… “Bandits”… why the fuck? what the fuck is an wet bandit

Morgan Gavin:
Are you ignorant of the plight of those left Home alone?

thy_undying:
the bandit will fall, trip upon his own feet, kneel down to a blood God

Morgan Gavin:
The micromachines of depression lead to the flame thrower of defiance, while the spider and hair gel of fear and rasping death will cling to your face, never letting go, as the nail of self preservation drives itself into your foot, giving you the tetnus of shame!

thy_undying:
The spiders and their vast webs, pulling the strings from behind

Morgan Gavin:
And fans of grime will blow the feathers of desolation unto the unwilling, there, they will be tripped and flung into the forboding basment of freezing, it will be there that the Kevil will hold the falling iron of the Rapture to your face, and leave amrk of shame and lo, thy Fear Pillow will shame you to know end in your ignorance of filth and degradation! FOR THEE SHALL INHERIT NONE BUT THE SACRIMENT OF THE TWELVE GODS OF BAD SEQUELS AND SHAME YOUR POOPCORN SHATTING WAYS. NOOT NOOT MOTHERFUCKER

The Shitposting Hermit:
the twelve gods of bad sequels are best gods. i unironically worship a meme god

thy_undying:
Raptured beyond saving, with a pillow case over what remained of their pride. The popcorn pops when the fat man sings.

Morgan Gavin:
I AM THE FORSAKEN MEMESON, DELIVERED BY THE MEME GOD TO CRAMP THE STYLE OF FURRIZORDS

thy_undying:
A song of death, to who gained the right they asked in the end of days.

The Shitposting Hermit:
chin chin the god of darkness. kek the god of creation and jakepaulus the cancer god

Morgan Gavin:
And lo, the seventh sigil be lit by the nightlight of leg cramps, and screams shall know not the ways of man, as the digital download and micro transactions shall bleed various bank accounts dry of their illgotten gains, so sayeth the Memson, of thy crushed candy

thy_undying:
All will kneel to a lie spoken by the unjust. Rain their wallets, and goods upon the crushed souls(edited)

The Shitposting Hermit:
J-I-N-G-L-E-J-A-N-G-L-E… Jinglejangle!!

Morgan Gavin:
And those with ashes upon their darkened souls will shutter the skeletons of legions past, the Ashen o

thy_undying:
The Legions might is flawed, with loyalty questioned and irrational choices. The keeper of the gate remains unfazed. They are here calling a name

Morgan Gavin:
Lead not those into temptation, but scream apart fro mthe hidden horrors that scream of rolling out, and may the Gumminess Bear, its wailing screams and death wails as it quivers and bounces, its death whale calling to a finite desperation… May the relevance of the hate fox know only the clown ad the cynical gnome, or may we forever be haunted by the Finaff King, his many colored hair and twirled mustache becoming and horrendous fan fiction, to which our souls know only death and damnation!

His mem, hs legend live on in the second adpocolypse, brought to a fidget spinning end by the fire addicted, clown themed, cynical gnome, who knows all secrets, and drinks of the Gi Feyuel, which burns as brightly, knowing only the souls of the tormented may truly bring him closer ot the ultimate fruition of hell unleashed, the chains only cursed links melted together in a serious knot of confusion of tubes powered by the hell cats of grumpiness!

thy_undying:
Gummy bears decapitated, on the executioner’s block. A laugh, a grin, by the spectators. Wailing arms in the air. The gods witness this event, such strong hatered for the demons which mask in candy. Chocolate rivers run dry. The canes of candy hanging the unworthy.

Morgan Gavin:
Spread the link of the chaos meme, and suffer the riches, piled onto the weight of your mind, infested by the fear pillow and smothered of oxygen by the creative curses of the irrelevant through which known shall ever know of the Trumpism and the he will not divide us chant, that through the tenth kingdom of hellish insanity shall we ever known the Con Khan Network and scream out Shatnered memes through which none are truly safe, or hath been cursed by the Druidic Ethereal fallicies which plague only the Over Watched butt of the Tracer! Can no leage of Legends stand to the trials and trails of the Roadhog, fermented meat, left in the sun and smothered with the defecation and diseased drool boiled to a thick soup that only the Sithian dungeons can keep twisting in the winds!?

And lo, again, in the ninth kingdom of the Golden Sunmoon, the desert sands will shift to the Snow of Jons and Garfields, his eternal tormentor and consumer of lasagna, a strange mystical treat created through the grinding and smashing of meath and tomotos, pa plague infested book of faces, called only to activate when the Necronomicon of passwords is forgotten, and thy Google of youTubian failures may enter a hack and slash game of Keemcynical proportions!

thy_undying:
Tracing the fingers which cling onto the images of laughter or to be silly. Kingdoms melt away in the wind when the legends speak of cheap tricks. Such decay when they sing of sunshine and rainbows. The Snow of john indeed knows nothing. Swining a sword at the dead that walk. Such a fool he be. In the frozen seas, the Slash man threw his axe upon the soaking puddle. Such thunder, echoes into the horizon. Necronomicon spreads the images across the landscape, infesting the wicked. Our backs ache by the hollowed. The lost.

Morgan Gavin:
Cursed by none, wanted by all, the curse of the Fear Pillow and the Abomination of the Universe, the Puppy Monkey Baby, the unwanted one, the freak of genetic tampering, science cursed by the evils of the four chans of old, back to the before days, the lords of cinder and repentance knowing no mercy as the tenth sign and sigil of the Adpocolypse lords a destructive force of unrecognizeable proportions upon our souls, driving us to the brink of insanity with its very presence!
A purge of anger, a purge of violence, a purge of bad memes, forced into existence against their will, taken flight and form against their creators shall rummage through the everlasting cursed forms of physical sentience, coding of ones and zeroes, twos and threes shall form and reform into the creations upon which none hath asked for and yet all shall scream unto the blind fires of old, “Have ye mercy!?” And the kings of Memes and their Memesons shall scry unto the unfortunate few, “Leggo my eggo”\

thy_undying:
Abominations plagued puppies they be. Crawling, dragging its frail limbs. The cinder is warm, unrelenting. An unstoppable force. They stand idly by, whilst the purge is upon us.

Morgan Gavin:
And thine eggo shall have been let go, as millions of pictures, doctored to initiate a fourth purge into the tenth kingdom shall unleash a torrent of sad depressed bookface pages, a slew of unwarranted and unwanted criticiysm for the hattering of the tenth reality plague, no, they shall see their works mocked and made to be as flickering shadows, that which screams for a lack of a better word, the “Sleepless in Seattle” Brought forth by the army of Sean Connerys appearing into the Ranks of Jeopardy, and the Nicholas Cages in wooden bear costumes, infiltrated by the beehives of shame and disbelief, shall go to the center of madness, and none shall know if their works are truly good or not, as the quality of dimensions presented there within are none but predetermined fixtures into the horrid flaws of humanities core values.

The Shitposting Hermit:
sean connery is best

Morgan Gavin:
And none in the Ninth kingdom of the golden sunmoon shall know which way to go, and instead, use a flawed apple maps to take portrate videos, which shall piss the resto f us off, as we send forth the Memesons and Memefathers of old to the eighth kingdom, where a peanut butter jar with an oft repeating loop of time, in which a silent Leonardo Dicaprio shall be mauled by a bear while declaring himself the king of the world, but his world shall sink, and he shall claim for a rose to never let go, but the roots shall know only the dampened sunlight and the weak nutrients, and hath let him has a tiny golden statue after so many years.

thy_undying:
Eggs crack upon the orbiting bowl, in the centre. Caged the Nicholas in a confined space. A lost of control, independence. A hound at the rattled cage, “Woof”. No one is a hero in this sorrow tale, only those who believe themselve to be whole.

Morgan Gavin:
To seek the plains of madness, they shall travel through a demented real of misery and bad remakes, infested with flaws and sins, which only a select few shall truly understand the tone of mockery and satire, to the seventh kingdom of the foolish and repository of badly over used memes, the mynameisjeff shall scry only to those of souls most ripped fresh fro mthe bloated carcasses of dementors, where thy harry potter fanship shall burn with fury as no more scrolls of magical boy wizards are fraught with fanservice, and no shipping of boy wizard verus dark forboding shall happen. For only the rule of law shall scry them to the Anime Weeabu culture shock that Anime is not a Cartoon, but rather a sacred art unto which only the Hehachi Miazaki Clan shall rise to be the king of fighters!

No, they shall too be plagued by the cloned failure of the two, and the rise of the Sean Cagery shall be born, weighed down by the anger and confused chaos that only seems possible in a twisted nightmare realm, in which no one shall truly know what the fermented rage pillow covers they are saying, nor if they are truly good or not. Maybe, the souls of the twisted ones, the animatroni shall see an end to the fictious misrepresentations of those lost and damned, and soon, the eternal war of spite and greed shall seek to be of a never ending end, and the rule of fine dust shall be imposed, but none shall ever really know what the fuck is actually going on!

thy_undying:
Isenguard is a large fortress beyond our reach. Cannot be seen by consaulting maps. No King or Queen of Potter. A boy is not lost in the anime. Wizzard laws brake the rules of men, decieving the wise. “Ho ho ho” the fat man sits upon his wooden throne. Twisted by madness.

Welcome to 2020, I’m your host, Dan Rather!

I talk about things, work, friends, projects, that kind of thing. Your kind of thing!

Holy shit, if he does NOT make that joke, I’m going to be so pissed.
So, how was your New years? Like mine, uneventful, kinda like the rest of the holidays, but I do have some slight changes to the usual programming. Annnnd that’s right… I keep forgetting that I have this thing, and rather than use  this  platform ot vent my various complaints and or treasures, I choose to instead post pointlessly bad videos and tweets that go unnoticed for a while and now I’m sad.
But, not anymore, thanks to the power of Arabian fucking coffee.
Yup.
It’s gon’ be like that today.
Anyways, I’ve been working my as off at amazon and aside from the ride situation changing for the better, apparrently, I now have a group I hang out with, well, I’ve got several groups I hang out with, but one more consistantly than the others. The weird thingis, I dunno how it all, oh wait- Yes, yes I do.
Think it might’ve been during that wonky period of time where I’m just extra flirty or something, happens every once in a while. But I just told this one gal, V, that I didn’t know what it was about her, but I liked her. And it’s true. There’s something about her I can’t put my finger on, but it’s there.
Anyways, I think I met her friend, A, first, and we had a quick conversation about something or other, then after shift, I talked her V, and then after that I introduced myself to I.
Weird thing is, thanks to I’s  wanting to hang out after shift, I now have a group of peeps That I hang out with after shift. Which is refreshing, but at the same time a bit worrying. Now, don’t get me wrong, these women are fucking amazing, and I’m really thankful I’m friends with them.
Just old paranoias and what not.
The reason I flit from group to group has something to do with a fear of rejection if interest in a gal is expressed, and then it just becomes slightly awkward, so I subconsciously fade away for a few weeks to let things cool day and act as if it’s just normal.
It’s the built up anxiety of repeated rejections and the knowledge and slight annoyance that that’s just going to be a part of things. And I really love working for Amazon.
But it really is a small town unto itself, so there is lies the problem, or, I don’t think it’s a problem, just something I’m slowly but surely pushing through.
2020 is going to be a new year, I’m no longer attached to Ashley, though the memories are bittersweet, they are slowly fading into the hazy fog that is the past.
Though I don’t believe I’m ready for dating, my subconscious has other ideas, and I’ve been noticing slight changes in my behaviour that supports that theory.
At the same time, I really do need to have some kind of social life, so if hanging out with friends after work is the way to do that, who am I to complain?
Besides, love is love, though it might be unreliable, love always finds a way. And just like every Jurassic Park movie, love is the T-Rex that will fuck yo sadness up in terrifying and hilarious ways.
Well, might as well dive into this. Or not, I’m still trying to sort everything out myself, but I think my problem is I over think things, and sometimes, I just need to dive into the deep end, and say “Fuck logic, I will enjoy mustard and toast at the same time!” Or maybe that’s my subconscious way of trying to deflect from the realization I might just have feelings for someone, and I’m slowly ramping up to asking them out.
The weird part is that it won’t be over a dating app. Which is just a fucking thing of its own.

That aside, I’ve started working on weird little pipe cleaner figures I like to call Piplaeners, why? Well… I don’t know why, but there awesome, and I’m slowly world building with every one that I create. Let’s see if I can pull a few up.80831662_471927350176422_7036172946527748096_n80900903_834241123681085_7729425855453069312_n80811702_2546410082263326_6814933365725069312_n80697408_3717571861618355_8067890323717619712_n80272528_590025335152853_5579368598624796672_n80357608_2566402456747613_7203153398026207232_n

I really like making these. They honestly don’t take that long to make and I’ve gotten down to a science, but so far, I’ve got the Golden King, The Red Queen, the Cursed Prince, the Queens Guard, and Dequadra.
Haven’t figured that one out yet. And it’s my newest work too! I’m also working on a massive one and I’m still planning out, and with every Piplaener made, I discover new ways of making them sturdier, I might actually have something going here!
Kind of exciting when you think about it!

Youtube’s still a thing, and I’ve now got a podcast going, which, I should really get cracking on the next episode, god I’m so bad at procrastinating…

Technology! it’s a good thing!

Or… maybe not, it all depends on what you’re looking for. Really, look, I get it, you’re looking for quality, meme producing content, or you might be a blog snob, but fear not, for I give zero fucks, and you my friend, are in the right place after all! Sometimes i wonder if the things we think about are the things we should be focused on,. Lemme explain y’all something, right?
Okay, so the things we focus on aren’t exactly the things we need to focu on at the moment, because there are tons of other things going through our heads at any one point in time, it’s a combination of douche fuckery that’s both entertaining and dissuading at the same time, and I get it.
You have a set schedule and limited shit to do, but for me, something that might need to be focused on is suddenly and irrevocably distracted by some idiot wondering into my field of view or just a dumb ass random action which will invariably cause a mediocre avalanche or other things and…. well, nothing will get done.
I’m starting to think I might have ADHD, or maybe my blank mind is so zen that, well, I float like a butterfly and fuck like a bee…
Wait, that’s not how that saying goes, but fuck that, let’s move on to whatever random and mind fumblingly dumb bull shit we seem to have forgotten about or moved onto today, shall we?
Because that’s the law of averages, and sometimes, you just need  that fluff and filler to vacuum out the smarter shit in your life.
Those who know me and have had conversations with me while I’m in my unfiltered or unfocused state, kind of like a flashlight with courgettes, or however that words spelled, will no doubt have had one of those moments, where nothing makes senses, but at the same time, you’re like, well, this is different, let’s give it a go!

And that’s what I’m all about, the random ,the mystifying, the weirdly dumb and sometimes funny. Because while yes, I could do what the rest of the world likes, and follow one stream of thought or another on how many fucking selfies I need to take with various filters colors or stupid manufactured bull shit, that’s… not what I’m about. I can’t handle all that prep just for a single picture that will invariable be ignored by the majority of social Media addicted brain slugs that crawl among us, hidden in their own ethereal covens of giggles coffee, and tiny mustaches. I have a BEARD DAMN IT!

And that beard is like a sex magnet, if… that were only the case and I could stay focused long enough to actually try and be a sex magnet.

Let me tell you about the God of All Things, Randy. that was a weird as fuck segway, but I swear, everything will connect on a level you never saw coming, and this is why I continue to only get a few interaction on my blog at a time.

Randy is a magician at what he does, but lemme tell about something else entirely, why? Because I take a few weeks to finish blog posts for some reason, and my cats keep doing the thing, oh shit! I forgot to get the laundry started, annnnnd that’s now a thing.
but more then that is the concept of loving who you are or what you are.
Males?
We got the dick ball combo, nothing wrong with that, that’s just how we’re built.
The Ladies?
Y’all got boobs, vagina, and the uterus, which, in all honesty, put y’all one step ahead of us… I think.
Okay i’m going to talk about this, because I’m kind of tired of the whole mentality that guys are taking a step back in media, cause we’re riding the same wave as you girls, and y’a know what? it goes around the sun, and no matter what, Furbies are still fucked.

They truly are fucked in the head, little adorable creatures that for no real reason will start yapping their plastic asses off because that’s EXACTLY what I want to hear in the middle of the morning, that sweet sweet release of, “ME LOVE YOUR SOUL!”

Yeah, that’s kind of fucking priceless right there. THIS IS QUALITY CONTENT PEOPLE! Like and subscribe if you feel the need to validate my existence, which I know you don’t!
Because free will is willingly free, or we’d all be paying a subscription fee, which I think we already kind of do, since you know, Amazon Prime and all of that, but that’s neither here nor there, I use a lot of the same sayings from time to time don’t I?
Shit, now i’m a bit self conscious, but there’s smoke and fire, sometimes you’ll find a hobo whacking it with lighter while smoking a soggy cigar.
Why?
Cause that’s how this shit sometimes rolls y’all!
We got to keep it real, or virtual, because sometimes what’s being read or written isn’t really what’s being said. Because then we’d all be taken way the fuck too literally and there’s nothing wrong with that, if you can call that living.
Actually, on the topic of living, is there such a thing as too much living? I think there is, like, really living. Cells multiplying more than they should, but relatively speaking, I think that’s just called cancer.
But why is cancer called cancer?
doesn’t that feel a bit ironic for peeps who are Cancers via the astrological sign, who get cancer, and they’re like, “Well, HA!?” And that just sets up the whole domino effect of what ifs by comparing similar words to similar situations, all though I could be wrong about that.

god, I miss just being about to write whatever comes to mind, because then it’s such a freeing experience, you don’t have anyone tripping balls in your general direction and yes, I know!

this was such a promising blog post, and then the stinginess of the topic went away and I started being myself!

How fucking weird is that!?

Anyways, I’ve just reached 1030 words totals on this thing. Time to post for no reason.

 

Fucknuggets.

Some days aren’t great, but I ain’t about to fuckin talk bout that shit, let everyone talk about that shit, Imma talk about… well, now I can’t rightly say, or maybe I can, but I don’t want to, so I might not be able to say what I was about to say before the moment where I could’ve said something about something else but now, this is just a recurring loop of broken ideas and stupid logic.
Everyone has stupid logic.
Even birds.
Yes birds, birds have stupid logic.
Not like stupid human logic, but stupid bird logic.
Squirrels are just fucking stupid, regardless of level of intelligence. But don’t discount sharks.
Fuck sharks.
And spiders.
And clowns.
Actually, fuck any and all combination of the three of those things, because any and all of them are just bad.
really bad.
So bad it makes you think that no matter what, you’re about to find out some shit that don’t make sense, but desperately need to because in a way, Earnest Hemingway did not drink enough.
But then again, stupid Squirrel logic infects everything we do on a level never before seen.
I have not zoomed out.
Not, I have zoomed out, don’t ask why I haven’t zoomed out, maybe I was zoomed in?
Maybe I wasn’t? Maybe I couldn’t be zoomed out or in to save my life, or maybe there’s a need to be more zoomed in than out in this day and age where being zoomed in has more an impact meaning than one would assume.
But you know what they say about assuming things, right?
That donkey’s shouldn’t speed.
Or drive. But they do anyways, because there asses, and they’re a danger to you and me on the road.
Ass Zooming. that’s assuming they know how to drive using those clods hoppers of a hoof on their feet.
But they only have one hoof between all four feet.
Well, they might be transformers.
Hey, we live in a day and age where anyone can be anything or any gender they choose.
I once dated a woman who identified as a ketchup bottle.
Which made sense in a weird way, a way I leave to your imagination, because that’s the kind of logic we’re dealing with here today.
Stupid squirrel spider shark clown bird logic.

I seek the strange man.

You know that feeling in the back of your head when you’re onto something really great?
It’s an itching sensation that you can’t quite get to, and it never leaves you alone for long.
It’s a momentary lightning strike that leaves no trace, and like the momentary flash of brilliance, once distracted from it’s entrancing display, it’s gone, out of sight, replaced by something more ubiquitous than whatever the flying fuck is going on with the world right now.
It’s the feeling of loss, replaced by greater loss, yet still replaced by greater loss, only to be filled immediately by next small victory.
Because you have to count the small victories, you have to make those small things count, or else the whole thing would collapse, leaving you nothing more than a blubbering pile of salted insults upon an already dead horse, by which the beating stick has long since broken, but people still wish to use it on the same horse, even though there’s a perfectly good horse right next to it.
Why do people do this?
Why beat the dead horse with vileness and venom?
Why not try for a different approach that would make the next horse last just a little bit longer?
There’s no shame in revealing something old to a newer generation, but it has to be done right, or else you lose the essential impact the original content had.
Am I being vague?
Of fucking course I am!
not for vagueness sake, not for some melodramatic reveal that simply wastes the effort upon which the base of this post, or review, or whatever the hell this actually is might have.
But simply because I like doing things a certain way, to be less or more descriptive to hide a true intention, or maybe just because I like the feeling of wandering my way around a post until such time that my snappy assed brain decides right then and there to actually be direct. And by THAT point alone, I’ve already lost the original thread, but the post keeps on building, word by word, layer by layer, until there is a pivotal moment, a lightning flash that screams out into the blank void of my keyboard obsessed mind, it should scream, “Now wait just a fucking minute, you pedantic ass faced moron! Looky here! Fish string! now ain’t that a kick in the balls with a cattle prod!” and this might lead to someone questioning the logic prepared by that one statement!
How does one kick someone in the balls, or anywhere really with a cattle prod?
Do they kick the cattle prod into the balls?
Is the cattle prod already placed ball sack adjacent?
Where the fuck is this taking place and has Netflix already signed on for five seasons of build up to this one moment in which nothing is explained and we are left devoid of any joy whatsoever because we canceled our subscription and now season six is tied up on actors being dicks and demanding WAY more money than their ability should ever grant them?

The feeling is mutual, and the build up is grand, and the payoff is fucking tantamount to that of having your last orgasm before you die with a smile on your face and your preferred genital analogy writhing with utmost pleasure.

That’s how I felt watching Love, Death, and Robots.
Like a fucking god.
Now where the fuck is Season Two?

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