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twitchquotes:You can say that I was born to be a Twitch channel mod. I catch a glimpse of copypasta, the adrenaline starts pumping. A whiff of drama, I snap into duty. My streamer calls for a chat ban, I erase that motherfucker from the history books of this channel. There is no !command I wonβt code, no timeout I wonβt give, no Twitch laws I wonβt overlook, and no order I wonβt obey to make my streamer happy. And if you become his problem, well, Iβm sorry to say that Iβll become yours.
You can say that I was born to be a Twitch channel mod. I catch a glimpse of copypasta, the adrenaline starts pumping. A whiff of drama, I snap into duty. My streamer calls for a chat ban, I erase that motherfucker from the history books of this channel. There is no !command I wonβt code, no timeout I wonβt give, no Twitch laws I wonβt overlook, and no order I wonβt obey to make my streamer happy. And if you become his problem, well, Iβm sorry to say that Iβll become yours.
Harambe Rick Harrison
twitchquotes:Hi. I'm Harambe, and this is my Zoo. I live here with my old zookeeper and banana, Big Yellow. Everything in here has a heart and a mind. One thing I've learned after 17 years - you never know WHAT is gonna come over that enclosure.
Hi. I'm Harambe, and this is my Zoo. I live here with my old zookeeper and banana, Big Yellow. Everything in here has a heart and a mind. One thing I've learned after 17 years - you never know WHAT is gonna come over that enclosure.
I remember a time when copypasta was biting satire
twitchquotes:I remember a time when copypasta was biting satire and prophetic indictments of contemporary Twitch chat. Copypasta when I was a younger teenager had the potency to topple Nazi moderatorships and revolutionize new chat epochs. Even the truncation of "copypasta" to "pasta" shows a lack of eloquence that speaks volumes. If, like me, you are a product of those better times and wish to see them return then speak out. Let the memers and Toucans know that real copypasta back.
I remember a time when copypasta was biting satire and prophetic indictments of contemporary Twitch chat. Copypasta when I was a younger teenager had the potency to topple Nazi moderatorships and revolutionize new chat epochs. Even the truncation of "copypasta" to "pasta" shows a lack of eloquence that speaks volumes. If, like me, you are a product of those better times and wish to see them return then speak out. Let the memers and Toucans know that real copypasta back.
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."