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Ok hillbilly person who supports genocide and pedophiles and war crimes and the Holocaust and the Rwandan genocide and 9/11 and incest and rape and the Armenian genocide and Nazis and the Japanese interment camps and sterilizing immigrants and concentration camps and harvesting organs and mass shootings and human trafficking and totalitarian fascist regimes and Donald Trump saying "There were very fine people on both sides" and white supremacy and male supremacy and cis supremacy and hetero supremacy and the coronavirus pandemic and imperialism and bombing Syria and the drug war and the Crusades and the Holodomor and the January 6th capitol storm and slavery and World War 1 and World War 2 and diabetes and cancer and AIDS and Ebola and murder and rabies and police brutality and fatherless homes and motherless homes and segregation and Jim Crow laws and the Uyghur genocide and animal abuse and selling SpongeBob's soul for 62 cents and murdering babies and voter fraud and fascism and fatphobia and ableism and criminalizing homosexuality and bestiality and kids starving in the streets and saying slurs and cannibalism and banning everything in existence and wishing that all of life on Earth was extinct. Fuck you!

The Girl you just called fat? She shit herself & lost 15kgs. The Boy you just called stupid? He shit himself. The Girl you just called ugly? She spends hours shitting and farting. The Boy you just tripped? He shit his pants. There's more to people than you think. Like this if your against bullying.

Atleast by having a daughter you can guarantee your bloodline. Plus its a fact that daughters are more biologically inclined to love and respect their fathers. Those whores you see on the internet all suffer from daddy issues aka absent father. A daughter with a present father usually turns out ok. I say its more cucked because biologically mothers are closest to their sons. Now imagine this. You and your wife are older and she thinks you can't satisfy her anymore, then she views pretty much a younger healthier version of you in their son. Now imagine being cucked by your own son, that shit has to be insanely brutal. Atleast wiith your daughter you can get some action, but with your son you cant plus you risk being cucked. Daughters in their younger years always prefer being around their dads. Which is why i say daughter>son. Plus daughters are usually more agreeable with their fathers unlike sons who want to bash heads to show who is the alpha in the household.

This started about 4 years ago when I was 2 years old. My dad started to supplement me picture books and cartoons with beginner options books and Martin Shkerli's live videos on how to pick pharmaceutical stocks. Over the course of these years I have retained absolutely nothing even though my dad has spent every waking minute trying to make me understand. He has done almost everything including having Jerome Powell's speeches play while I am sleeping and only having Warren Buffet on the TV to try and make me understand the market. Yesterday, he got to a breaking point when I couldn't differentiate between a straddle and a strangle even though we went through different strategies for almost a month straight. My dad finally convinced my mom that they were doing the right thing when he said that I will soon be a Wendy's worker begging my wife's husband for a weekly allowance because I will never amount to be anything. He couldn't fathom raising a kid who was not able to able to make a profit from trading options by the time he was 10. With all that said, if anyone wants a 6 year old child who is shitty at market strategy, plz adopt me from Eternal Sunny Orphanage in Omaha, Nebraska.

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What the fuck did you just fucking say about OTM FDs, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated bottom of my class in the Special Needs Division of the Navy Seals, and I've been bag holding from pump n' dumps on WSB since 2012, AND I have over 300 confirmed margin calls. I am trained in the 'tism and I'm the top retard in the entire United States armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another normie retail investor. I will wipe out my portfolio with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit about OTM FDs over the Internet? Think again, fuckface. As we speak I am contacting my wife's network of boyfriends across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your portfolio. Your fucking 401k is dead, kid. I can trade anywhere, anytime, and I can lose fat stacks over seven hundred ways, and that's just with TSLA FDs. Not only am I extensively trained in sniffing glue, but I have access to the entire crayon collection of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass boomer stocks off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit crayon diarrhea all over you, the likes of which would make even Jackson Pollock jealous, and you will drown in it. You're fucking done, kiddo.

The myriad of idiosyncratic atrocities bestowed on this chat from these juvenile delinquents have caused a monstruous amount of turmoil and I cannot fathom this type of malignancy. These futile behaviors have abruptly penetrated the purity of my dear soul.

gamer head: on knuckles: cracked gaming goggles: on arms: stretched gamer girl pee: drinked girlfriend: none gay best friend: invited wife: beaten wife: cheated on daughter: abandoned child: destroyed your mom: fucked rockets: launched funding: secured anime: loved Japan: nuked HIV: positive blood: donated American genocide: denied milf: hunted milfs: lewded babies: yeeted emerald splash: deflated society: segregated Israel: destroyed heroin: shot milk: consumed mother: donuted father: robbed identity: hidden traitor: kakyoined Italian drug trade: monopolized masters: awaken Caeser: killed left wing: destroyed lib: owned hog: cranked pants: shid bottom: text top: text Hotel: Trivago Hotel: Mario Duke: Nukem cer: armic balls: crushed balls: ligma the imposter: sus sussy: balls Gucci: gang Delivery: Digiorno Peterbilt: gassed Half: life pog: gers Vaporeon: cool :) edit: spelling

My female friend was crying about how fat she was and I was trying to comfort her by telling her that she didn’t look that fat but she kept accusing me of lying to make her feel bad so I thought that saying “maybe your just a heckin chonker” would cheer her up and lighten the mood but she just looked at me and left. I hope she realised that I was only being nice and that she is being irrational.

When I was 13 years old a buddy of mine tried to convince me to fool around. I wasn't into it, and he told me it's not gay if you're wearing socks. I didn't believe him, went home, and asked my dad. That's 'gentleman's gay', hardly gay at all. Don't see it much these days. The 50s were a different time. What were we to do? We were typical boarding school boys, rich with vigor, skin slick with drying sweat and gritty earth from a game of pigskin. At night our young, virile bodies filled the dorm with sweet-musky vapors, like game-meat stewed with apple and peppercorn. You'd awake in darkness to the hushed, melodic rhythm of two pairs of white tube socks, barely visible in moonlight, bouncing on the hardwood floor. The deep bond of male friendship played like a thousand different human instruments. The wet claps of skin on skin, the gentle thud of heads on backboards, frenzied cries in the throes of climax. Wilbur, so fat and soft like tapioca pudding. His breasts were so like the real thing, what we fantasized of our future wives. Unwilling, defenseless Wilbur, so slow and uncoordinated in the dark. 10 of us would glaze his bare, pink flesh like a giant raspberry danish. He once had the audacity to tell Headmaster Redford. But Redford was a Deerfield boy once, he understood. So he joined us on our midnight hog hunts. Through college and years after we'd find time here and there, away from the wives at a family lake house. But it's been decades now - the times have certainly changed. If you wanted to do something private with another man, in your socks, it wasn’t ‘gay’. It was just two men, celebrating each other's strength.