You can't stop what's coming leafboy. I walk all over leaves every autumn, you think this year will be any different? Your flag is a fucking leaf. You chose the one part of the tree that dies every year. Not only that, but it's one of hundreds of leaves, thousands if it's a big tree. All dead come winter. Every winter. A vicious cycle. Totally insignificant. As soon as the tree has had it's way with you you are cast to the Earth to be trod by all other living things. Ants? They not only stomp about you, they will steal your corpse and use it for their people. Birds steal your lifeless shell with impunity. Leaves not only die once, but every year. A brave man dies only once, but leaves die a thousand deaths, or at least 20 or 30 if the tree lives that long. Perhaps more. Every year, leafs crunch beneath my boot. This year shall be no different. So it shall be written. So it shall be done. The day of the rake is at hand because every day is the day of the rake and has always been.
I used to be a real ad
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Ben Shapiro
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Trump wakes up chained to the wall
twitchquotes:
Trump wakes up chained to the wall of a small room with Kripp standing over him. Orange Juice begins pouring from the walls, quickly filling the space. Trump screams in horror as he struggles to get free. Kripp walks out, shuts the door and sits down to begin his stream, the white wall of the death chamber visible behind him for all his viewers to see
twitch chat
Kripp
Alright students, how often is Kripp lucky?
twitchquotes:
(⌐ ͡▢ ͜ʖ ͡▢) Alright students, how often is Kripp lucky? ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ Call on me! (⌐ ͡▢ ͜ʖ ͡▢) Yes little Dong? ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ Kripp is never lucky, sir! (⌐ ͡▢ ͜ʖ ͡▢) Wrong, Kripp is lucky a reasonable amount of time. Come see me after class for your punishment . ʕ⌐ ͡▢ ͜ᴥ ͡▢ʔ
twitch chat
Kripp
How will this affect my chains?
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."