
The taste surely beats soy milk. Or so I was told.
Such a pity, that nature will not let a man produce more than a single gulp each day.
The taste surely beats soy milk. Or so I was told.
Such a pity, that nature will not let a man produce more than a single gulp each day.
You forgot the part where we also take their companies, real estate, stock, private jets and yachts.
Unicode addition when?
WTF did I just read.
Why is that bird so fucking dirty?
Sabrina, don’t just stare at it, eat it.
I first read that as “caned.” One day…
A lot of coverups seem to happen in high society. Check out the story of Natalie Wood, for instance.
Goo goo g’joob.
Like that 1969 Ray Bradbury story, “Night Call, Collect”, where a man stranded on Mars spends 60 years setting up pre-recorded messages for himself that one day spring into action and eventually start talking to each other.
A relay snapped somewhere. The two phone voices were connected, one to the other.
“Hello, Barton?”
“Yes, Barton?”
“Aged twenty-four.”
“I’m twenty-six. We’re both young. What’s happened?”
“I don’t know. Listen.”
The silent room. The old man did not stir on the floor. The wind blew in the broken window. The air was cool.
“Congratulate me, Barton, this is my twenty-sixth birthday!”
“Congratulations!”
The voices sang together, about birthdays, and the singing blew out the window, faintly, faintly, into the dead city.
Nah. Just let it rip.You’ll have to get used to each other’s farts eventually. Might as well get it over with right on the first date.
Funny, that movie was called “The Bus That Couldn’t Slow Down” in English.
Soooo… They don’t have any externally visible genitals, do they?
My dad treated me like a boxing bag for the slightest transgression.
I once squatted for an entire night. Squatted. Because at dusk, I was gaming in the middle of a room with a very creaky floor and then darkness fell. I was expected to be in my own room, and now I was trapped. Had to turn off the console as to not make any noise or quick movement.
Had my parents found out, they’d have flat out killed me, and that’s not an exaggeration.
Oh, and apart from the constant physical and mental abuse, I was never allowed to leave the house except for going to school, and couldn’t make any phone call exceeding one minute.
I got out of it eventually, but it took a lot of healing. My siblings’ lives are still completely ruined, though.
I’ve talked to a lot of people from all walks of life, and I’ve come to realize that one of the main things that sets people apart in adulthood is whether they were loved as kids. Those that were, and those that weren’t, might as well come from different planets. It’s so bad I very much go out of my way to avoid the topic.
They: Yeah I didn’t always get along with my parents.
Me: So… how often did they beat you up?
They: Oh no, they never beat me. But my mother criticized me a lot, and my dad moped, sometimes.
Me: :-|
They: I’m kinda traumatized from all this.
Me: So… where did you spend last Christmas?
They: Well, among other things, I visited my parents, of course.
Me (who has cut of all communication for many years): o_O
Deregulation, ain’t it great.
Reminder that any sort of workplace surveillance is outright illegal in some EU countries. It could even be considered a criminal act.
Where I live, this is being aired on TV on Christmas every year, as a tradition.
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