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ID: klVgr4NI/pol/510504594#510506055
7/16/2025, 5:13:55 AM
>>510505302
>LITERALLY THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST BASED ASMONGOLD LET ME BATHE YOUR FEET
holy! shit!!
my dude, moist critikal!
>LITERALLY THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST BASED ASMONGOLD LET ME BATHE YOUR FEET
holy! shit!!
my dude, moist critikal!
ID: cc/N2h3D/pol/508012505#508014831
6/19/2025, 9:55:58 PM
Pt 1.
Dear Diary,
I’ve been in this thread by myself, posting alone for 45 minutes. Nobody is here but me, and OP forgot to close the thread because he’s too busy sucking dick and listening to Taylor Swift albums. I mean, Evermore is mooter than a hoochie cooter, and multitasking is a skill—but come on, dude, lock the thread! Now I’m just yelling into a sad, digital abyss. My notifications are drier than my penis over the last several years since getting out of prison and focusing on unfucking myself while everyone else wants to fuck me, and I’m pretty sure I’m arguing with ghosts.
I came here to debate whether pineapple belongs on pizza or as a Swift-endorsed Pentagon promo buttplug with a Chiefs logo. But now I’m monologuing like a low-budget supervillain. I’ve posted memes, hot takes, even a haiku about Emily Compagno in a cheerleader suit smuggling Tyrone’s summer sausage with a name tag that says “Pepperoni”—nothing. Crickets. Not even a bot to spam me with nuts crypto scams. I’m tired of building X accounts up to 40k, losing them, and getting trapped in jail via cancel culture and assholes who can’t accept my art without bothering me in public. The only verified follower who seems to remember me from when I had my large accounts is Lara Logan, and then she flips on me like I don’t love her, trying to CTR that she doesn’t know or care about me, like a rude bitch opting out of a pie-eating contest.
Dear Diary,
I’ve been in this thread by myself, posting alone for 45 minutes. Nobody is here but me, and OP forgot to close the thread because he’s too busy sucking dick and listening to Taylor Swift albums. I mean, Evermore is mooter than a hoochie cooter, and multitasking is a skill—but come on, dude, lock the thread! Now I’m just yelling into a sad, digital abyss. My notifications are drier than my penis over the last several years since getting out of prison and focusing on unfucking myself while everyone else wants to fuck me, and I’m pretty sure I’m arguing with ghosts.
I came here to debate whether pineapple belongs on pizza or as a Swift-endorsed Pentagon promo buttplug with a Chiefs logo. But now I’m monologuing like a low-budget supervillain. I’ve posted memes, hot takes, even a haiku about Emily Compagno in a cheerleader suit smuggling Tyrone’s summer sausage with a name tag that says “Pepperoni”—nothing. Crickets. Not even a bot to spam me with nuts crypto scams. I’m tired of building X accounts up to 40k, losing them, and getting trapped in jail via cancel culture and assholes who can’t accept my art without bothering me in public. The only verified follower who seems to remember me from when I had my large accounts is Lara Logan, and then she flips on me like I don’t love her, trying to CTR that she doesn’t know or care about me, like a rude bitch opting out of a pie-eating contest.
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