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🚀🚀🚀 UPVOTE/GILD SO PEOPLE CAN SEE 🚀🚀🚀 LISTEN TO ME. DO NOT SELL TOMORROW. OR ANY DAY THIS WEEK. Drops are coming. They are counting on fear to beat us. It’s the only weapon they have on us, but it won’t work because we are retarded. The people are finally taking the power back from these boomer hedge fund big money shorting douchebags - the same people who fucked everyone over in 2008 with CDOs and continue to fuck you over to this day. Get ready to make Melvin throat hard retard dick. We only have strength if we stay in this TOGETHER. HOLD THE LINE. THE SHORT SQUEEZE HASNT HAPPENED YET. Don’t pussy out you fucking idiots. $1000 IS NOT A MEME. I love you all, you beautiful autistic bulls. Hang tight while we ride this thing into the FUCKING STRATOSPHERE. APES TOGETHER STRONG 🦍 💎 🚀

I have lost everything, and I'm not sure how to continue. This summer I invested $17,500 (six months salary and my entire life savings) into ornamental gourd futures, hoping to capitalize on this lucrative emerging industry. After watching a video about Vincent Kosuga and his monopoly on onions, I decided I'd try to do something similar with another vegetable. I did some research and found out many agricultural forecasters expected this year's gourd yield would be far smaller than the past, due to deteriorating soil conditions in central Mexico and a warmer-than-average spring. At first, demand soared around Halloween and prices skyrocketed, but the gourd bubble burst on November 12th. Unfortunately, the coronavirus caused a massive drop-off in demand due to fewer families decorating their tables for thanksgiving, and prices plummeted. I had invested early enough that I thought I would still be fine, but then on the morning of December 2nd, a new email in my inbox caused my stomach to turn into a pretzel. The massive gourd shipment from Argentina, scheduled for early March, had arrived. I was planning on selling off my futures right before this, in February, but this ruined everything. To top it off, the gourds in this shipment were absolutely gargantuan, some topping 4 pounds each, causing the price-per-pound to drop like an anchor into the range of 6 cents per pound. I am ruined.

Greetings. My name is Beef, and today I would like to present an exceedingly excellent "your mother" joke. I will now begin. Your biological mother is so morbidly obese, when she went to go get her yearly physical done, the doctor took her blood and the results concluded that she had a high blood pressure, onset type 2 diabetes, hypertension and the possibility of heart disease. She also suffers from severe depression, because she lacks confidence in her physical appearance, which enables her to consume even more food, making her more obese. Not to mention, but your mother is becoming so monstrous, she had a hard time fitting through small spaces and exceeding weight limits on practical applications. Your mother has an endless cycle of malicious eating habits that only make her health worsen over time. I hope whoever has just read this enjoyed the humorous "your mother" joke. Thank you for your time, and have a blessed day.

I was only nine years old. I loved Morbius so much, I had all the merchandise and movies. I'd pray to Morbius every night before I go to bed, thanking for the life I've been given. "Morbius is love", I would say, “Morbius is life". My dad hears me and calls me a faggot. I knew he was just jealous for my devotion of Morbius. I called him a cunt. He slaps me and sends me to go to sleep. I'm crying now and my face hurts. I lay in bed and it's really cold. A warmth is moving towards me. I feel something touch me. It's Morbius. I'm so happy. He whispers in my ear, “It’s morbin time". He grabs me with his powerful morby hands, and puts me on my hands and knees. I spread my ass-cheeks for Morbius. He penetrates my butthole. It hurts so much, but I do it for Morbius. I can feel my butt tearing as my eyes start to water. I push against his force. I want to please Morbius. He roars a mighty roar, as he fills my butt with his love. My dad walks in. Morbius looks him straight in the eye, and says, "Get morbed". Morbius leaves through my window. Morbius is love. Morbius is life.