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Webcam Model(ClaraWanjiru) is live
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– NEW FEATURES OF IPAD 3 INCLUDE VOUCHER TO CLAIM CLOTHING & PERSONAL EFFECTS OF CHINESE L

– NEW FEATURES OF IPAD 3 INCLUDE VOUCHER TO CLAIM CLOTHING & PERSONAL EFFECTS OF CHINESE LABORER WHO DIED MAKING IT

– SIRI NOW COMES WITH “SNOOP DOGG VOICE” OPTION, SAYS THINGS LIKE “YO WHAT’S UP MY NIZZLE”

– ENHANCED BATTERY LIFE COURTESY OF SMALL QUANTITY OF STEVE JOBS ECTOPLASM. HE IS DEAD SO THIS IS ENTIRELY POSSIBLE. HE DIED LAST YEAR. IT IS HIS GHOST’S ECTOPLASM.

– ICONS NOW 150% MORE SWAGGED OUT

– CD-ROM DRIVE, MOUSE, KEYBOARD AVAILABLE AS UPGRADES

– THERE WILL BE NO TOUCH SCREEN BECAUSE TOUCH SCREENS ARE “OVER”

– GUARANTEED TO BE 30%-40% LESS INTERESTING TO CHILDREN SO YOU CAN FINALLY GET SOME FUCKING WORK DONE WITHOUT THEM ASKING FOR “ANGERY BIRDS” EVERY FIVE FUCKING MINUTES SHIT

– BACK OF IPAD 3 WILL BE STUDDED WITH DIAMONDS SO EVERYONE ON THE TRAIN CAN KNOW WHAT A FUCKING BALLER YOU ARE


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Shark sits at his computer. “holy fucking shit are you serious?? wow.. ok firstly, Double Wide

Shark sits at his computer. “holy fucking shit are you serious?? wow.. ok firstly, Double Wide is NOT Uncle Krackers only album. it was his debut album retart. he has released three albums since then, including the critically aclaimed (and my personal favorite, Happy Hour, which came out in 2009. this is fucking BASIC stuff, get your fucking facts straight cockface. its called google. maybe next time youll be smart enough to not look like a fucking AIDS victim in front of the whole forum.” He clicks Submit and leans back in his chair. pwned.


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Sext: u take off bra revealing boobs. i show u my dick. i show my other dick. i show u the third dick i have. hey where are u going im not done showing u dicks

Matthew Newton faced every single person in the world and instinctively caressed his custom bronze knuckledusters. He sized them up. They stood on the misty plain in the cool dawn, all 7.009 billion of them, squinting as the sun crept through the trees. Some of them squinted. Not all of them could squint, obviously, because they were too busy crying, or sleeping, or eating, or thinking about Nickelodeon’s “Rocko’s Modern Life”, or doing any of the infinite variations on human behaviour that were possible. Matthew Newton took a final swig from his flask of Jack and threw it on the ground. He glared in the direction of all of the people who co-inhabited this planet with him; all of the hotel managers and racist-against-Australians cops and lippy girlfriends with whom he’d had no choice but to whirl through the blackness of space with for all of his 35 years. It was time.

“I’m ready,” Matthew Newton said, and beckoned to the crowd.

An elderly man staggered forward. Matthew Newton punched him in the face, hard, breaking his nose instantly. The man fell to the ground. Matthew Newton kicked him in the ribs until he stopped twitching. “Next,” he said. A tiny girl advanced from the crowd. He disemboweled her in one fluid motion and addressed the crowd: “If I could have your attention,” he said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d step forward when you see me finish with person before you, you fucking animals.” They mumbled their assent.

The next person was a tough-looking New York cop. “C'mere, you shithead,” the cop said as he ran toward Matthew Newton, who neatly sidestepped him. The cop stumbled and hit the ground hard. Matthew Newton climbed on top of him and dug his knee into the cop’s kidney. The cop thrashed around. The pain was excruciating. Matthew Newton snapped his neck.

“I could do this all afternoon,” he said, and he did it. He did it all afternoon. He did it for years and years until everyone was dead except for Bert and Patti and his sister, whatever her name even is.

“Are you alright, Matthew?” Patti asked. She looked at his handsome face, if you equated round with handsome, which she did, apparently, and her brow furrowed with concern. “You look tired, love,” she said. “Maybe you should take a holiday. Get away from it all. It’s all this media scrutiny that’s making you this way.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, mum,” he sighed. It was definitely very tough being the privileged son of wealthy parents who had failed to imbue him with any sense of consequence when the media insisted on focusing on his shortcomings.

Sext: my penis is a whale. it washes up on ur beach. i am unable move it. it starts to stink real bad oh god

Sext: i am a tiny pink earthworm. u step on me w/ ur hiking boots. we travel the world together but u dont notice me because i am squished up inside the tread of ur boot

Sext: i am a hibernatory frog who only emerges in periods of prolonged wet. u r coaxing me from my burrow

There is no choice but to be alone a while longer. Every choice is a corner rounded in the roadmap, every roadmap sits lumpier and more aerated than the first time it was unfolded. Environmental conditions aerate the concrete causing bubbles in the linoleum of the corridor. The steel lockers hum in the breeze. Some choices are lead nowhere. Some roadmaps lead nowhere.

Each day darkens and draws to an end. Each packed lunch becomes dry and heavy. Each footstep is heavy and unwilling. Each choice led to you and her, here. She did this to you even though she knew what would happen. Sandstone buildings melt in the rain, slowly. The sand and the rain flow out to the ocean. Each thing will one day be destroyed.

The school bus shakes like a prison ship. Hell comes early to unlucky people. You will never love or be loved again. The light turns green, then orange, then red. There will never be green again. There will be no going forward and there can be no going back. There will only be this moment, and another moment, later, at home, with mum and dad, perhaps, who don’t understand. Understanding is a burden you alone hold behind the gate that closed forever which divides you from the rest of the world. No one can ever understand.

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