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Excuse me, not to be disrespectful or rude but could you please take post down. That is my sister who was killed by a metra train. And it this post is very disrespectful. Idk who you are or if you even know her but I need you to take this down please.

As a chef, it’s an insult to hear “air fryers are as good as frying”. Air fryers are fucking bullshit scams and are just convection ovens with an extra fan added. Seriously, pan searing or regular baking will always be better. I swear to shit Jared if I hear you compare fried chicken to air fried chicken one more time I’m gonna smack the gob out of you. Edit: I’m in danger, I never realized how deep the air fryer fandom goes. I will die on this hill Edit2: I’ll never stop upvoting and loving you all but… but I’m just gonna go cry about something totally different.. Edit3: i think id be a lot less upset if it was called an “extra air oven” as its a convection oven with extra fans. Edit4: if I had a dollar for every comment “you clearly don’t own an air fryer” I’d be able to put it towards a new toaster oven. Edit5: the chances of getting doxxed over kitchen appliances isn’t high.. but never zero. Edit6: apparently air fryers are taking my job? Sorry boys and girls, no more foi gras for the rich.

10:43 PM, Microsoft Tower, Washington. A figure stands in shadow, red lights from the theistic ceiling flood the spacious hall. Along the sides, hallmark pieces of technology are proudly displayed on golden pedestals. The Xbox, Windows, Hololens; At the center of it all, the vaccine. "Microsoft Microbe Covid-19" the label on the syringe reads. A glowing substance can be seen sitting still inside. Monitors flicker to life at the end of the hall, each one showing the point of view of an innocent civilian. The light draws a silhouette of a man. His body, frail. His skin is leathery and rugged. Breathing apparatus cover his face, a cold green mist slowly spewing out. The grand door opens, humanoids armed with weapons drag an unkempt and furious man towards the being in shadow. They throw him to the floor, spit slathering the ground. "This is the last one?" the figure asks. "Yes, Lord Microsoft. all 4,607,423,673 other citizens have been accounted for." The rugged man looks upwards, his face bloodied and bruised. His eyes meet Lord Microsoft's. Puffed from tears, his eyes can only show one emotion: anger. "Bill Gates, you piece of shit. I swore to Samantha that if I ever-" "Silence, creature!" Lord Microsoft slaps him with the back of his hand. "I am lord Microsoft, and you will refer to me as such!" The guards grab the man, hoisting him up. "Now, let us delay no further. It has taken me years to get to this point, and I will not have my victory denied!" Lord Microsoft grabs the vaccine and primes it for injection. "Such a small thing, isn't it? Yet, it has afforded me the right to dominate all life on Earth. Covid was a blessing, not a curse." The man's eyes widened, he screams in retaliation, but the guards shut his mouth with force. Lord Microsoft pierces his flesh with the needle. A flourescent orange liquid can be seen coursing through his veins. He falls to the floor, his muscles tightening and constricting in unnatural fashion. His eyes bulge from his skull and he shouts in pain. He slumps over, and in only a moment he comes back to his feet. His pupils dilated and his skin, pale. "How may I serve you, my lord."

There once was a woman who had 100 children. She named each of them after numbers in the order they were born. There was a fire and all of them died except Ninety. Ninety went off to have kids of her own. They were very kind and loving. One day they found an injured dog. They took it home and nursed it back to health. They hid the dog and never told their mother afraid she would kick the dog out . In fact they never told anyone. To keep from arousing any suspicions they named the dog "This" so the name could be used in conversation. One day This ran away. They never saw This again. No one else knew about This. No one even knew a dog named This existed. Only Ninety's kids will remember This.

So many arrogant fucks here love talking fundamental analysis when they can't even tell me if lil’ Yachty got another Ferrari much less how stuffed the fucking Oreos are now. Fucking clowns, all of them. Shut the fuck up and do your trades. If you really need a valuation multiple you can't even derive to tell you whether you should buy a stock or not, you deserve CHGG. Newsflash, the stock market never made sense nor will it. Best you can do is trade gourd futures you know about and feel with your hands that it hasn't been spotted by any number of fungal pathogens in the complex ecology of modern supply chains. Or alternatively manipulate markets like the rich investors who funnel you into silver every fucking time like clockwork. Warren Buffet's dad was Paul Revere, if you think that shit didn't help The Wizard of Omaha then not only are you retarded but also delusional. Now stfu about EBITDA and long term debt-to-equity ratios. If you actually knew what the fuck was going to happen you'd be chilling in r/lounge with a fat chick, not on wsb posting "anyone basing trades right now on technical analysis is fucking tool.”

As the tree blinks from white to red to green, you look at the void under the tree that previously held presents. Fewer this year than usual, but some. How did you get here? Boredom? In March, you felt trapped with your wife and infant. You needed something to pass the time. Something you could throw yourself into fully. “Are you coming to bed?” your wife yells down the stairs. It seemed harmless at first, but as the pandemic drew on, so did your investment. You’ll stop soon, though. “Soon!” you reply, and you hear her feet climb the steps. The lights start to blink chaotically. You cringe because you could only afford the junk strands at CVS. Suddenly they halt—the alternation feature broken—on red. The red fills the room and covers your flesh. You look down at your hands, and they look like they’re bleeding. Like your calls. After a time—hours?—you realize you’re sitting in complete darkness. Your lights have expired, worthless.

apolgy for bad english where were u wen Melon Captol die i was at Gamestock buying Ps5 when phone ring "Melon is kil" “yes”