“Too many people believe involving the government in something makes it safer, but what if I told you the opposite is the case?” – Dr. Freckles
- moral hazard
- perverse incentives
- housing crisis
- FED
- national defense
- nuclear
- come on
Bullies suck …
“Bullies suck: is another name for anarchism.” – Dr. Freckles
“Brilliant” people … (IYI)
“Brilliant people can arrive at the WRONG ANSWER exceptionally fast.” – Dr. Freckles
Every drunken sailor feels rich …
“Every drunken sailor feels rich on payday.” – Dr. Freckles
Overkill …
“Unconditional surrender guarantees OVERKILL.” – Dr. Freckles
Life, reality and dance …
“It’s a weird dance – LIFE … and sometimes our partner, reality, steps on our feet.” – Dr. Freckles
Tomorrow …
“Don’t worry … tomorrow is probably going to be worse.” – Dr. Freckles
I feel rich …
“If you live in a camper and feel rich? – then you are very close to the truth.” – Dr. Freckles
I spent 80 bucks at COSTCO, my brother had to buy the stuff …
– a new WAHL clipper set
and
– 24 decent IPA’s
10 years ago? – it would have been 40 bucks.
Still: I feel rich.
I felt rich seeing all that food, knowing it was unlikely to be like this a year from now. Relative to future me? Knowing that most people on Earth don’t even get to see that much of EVERYTHING, let alone have the money to buy some of it … I felt rich.
Not judgment, no real commentary here …
Like that simple comment I made a few days ago: “it seems as if the WORLD is holding its breath …”
(like that)
You shouldn’t …
You shouldn’t drive a CAT D6 naked to 711 to buy ZIMAs … you can … but you shouldn’t.
You shouldn’t test the waters … the waters are filled with giant lamprey that suck out your blood and bring you to a dark cave where helmet monks and mungo-freaks sing songs of never ending torment … so NO … you shouldn’t man.
You shouldn’t turn your nose up at CHEVRON food. Maybe CHEVRON FOOD is the only oasis for some of us in this food desert. Maybe canned food contains all the nutrients and heavy metals you need to live a full life … you don’t have to be an ass about your organically grown potatoes … go eat a cold can of chili, and live!
You shouldn’t hang out with DORBO-HERDERS from quadrant-2. Their minds are confused by crescent berry love making and genital mold. Don’t …
You shouldn’t do what your wife tells you to … choose the path of heroes and ignore her banshee screaming.
You shouldn’t “bend your knees” when you’re lifting something heavy … you JERK IT … just twist it … with your lower back … and then take the disability AND the Percocet.
You shouldn’t rent movies because Dane Cook is in them … I know you want to, so you can round out your night of binging CREED songs … but don’t. People already know you have crabs.
You shouldn’t go to Ramona’s on Friday night. Sure, you met her at Denny’s, and she has nice boobs … but don’t do it … she is a huntress and a cum maiden … she wants to grow your protein morgis in her towel closet. And you might end up falling in love, but her ex-boyfriend, Gary, is probably going to kill you and steal the baby and Ramona.
You shouldn’t mess with the witches of YOOBLOSS. They carry hiss viper swords and look to the mud paddies for their swirling and gusto filled lesbian orgies … come on man.
You shouldn’t grow that plant. That plant was sent here from DEBRIZ-PRIME in the Gromulan Sector. If allowed to thrive here, the python and the snakehead and the squirrel will rule over QUADRANT-GYPSY in REGION-DOOG … and then comes the hooker wars, that necessarily bring on Cthulhu and the KEK rebellion. Stop it with that fucking plant you bought on sale at Home Depot.
You shouldn’t go up to a woman in a bar and say “hey baby, want to sample my black and tan bean pudding” … you can say it … just might not work.
You shouldn’t listen to Linkin Park or 3 Doors Down or Nickelback … You shouldn’t listen to CREED or STRYPER … if you listen to COLDPLAY, then your mind is contaminated and your woman is a whore. Fuck off with your “world music”, I don’t care. Fuck you … fuck CREED.
You’d think I’d stop hunting the grog-freaks and the donut-toads.
You’d think I’d give up revenge schemes and stop sniffing glue …
At my level?
I don’t use condoms …
Women should be overjoyed to have my stroog-spunk percolating in their grape lab …
At my level?
I need women, 20 of them, to clean my house. They clean all day, and cook, wearing t-shirts, and flip flops, and that’s it … no underwear … nope.
They bend over a lot, and I sneak up from behind – it’s so romantic and sexy … Quest for Fire shit … right Rae?
At my level? Women spend days, scantily clad, in a jungle prison run by busty lesbian prison guards … just to do battle with each other in swamp pits in order to be my cum blanket. That’s my level TATE … or is it taint?
At my level?
I have swelter holes, filled with ky jelly and tabasco sauce, and my women massage themselves and become spicy in the hope that ONE OF THEM will bear my next tube spawn …
At my level I have women who fight each other, randomly, to compete for the joy of wazzalling my deeg-shaft … and that’s HUGE.
At my level?
Women cum from miles away, just to smell my rotten underwear and my old sweat rags and dingly-cloths …
At my level?
My dingus-fruit is gathered by greased up milk-maidens, ungunjoolating themselves in the pouring baths where gapes are cleansed by cream and wheat style whiskey …
At my level you would get it.
We had “magic fingers in the bed” – you are lost.
New pickup line …
“Hey winter-mouse, if you’ll be my love sweater, I’ll be your spunk cannon.”
Ladies: would this work on you, at the bar?
Holding its breath …
It feels like the world is holding its breath.