I just had kids, they’re wonderful. I let the littlest one fight the bigger one as a form of entertainment. I don’t let them do that at home, it’s a special thing just for when we are at there memaw and peepee’s, as a treat. Do you understand? This encourages wild, rambunctious behavior.
When my kid misbehaves, it’s not like he would have done that anyway or just to anybody. No, I’ve raised this one to come at you, personally, hitting and taunting you, because he knows you won’t hit him back.
He shows you his ass, and says, “This is my ass, come at me bitch.” My little one says that. “Come at me bitch.” Do you want to know just how big my old heart swoled up when he done that? When he said that to his bitch mimi? Do you want to know? Do you?
I let my kids run wild and I do not dare discipline them. Nope. What I do instead:
They hit the dogs, and I say NO, WE DO NOT HIT ANIMALS, THAT’S WHY YOU’RE NOT GETTING THE IPAD, CAUSE YOU AND YOUR BROTHER CAN’T BEHAVE, I scream. “I’m watching you.”
Sounds fucked up, right? Well, here’s my trick.
I let 45 seconds go by, and then I walk out to the truck, I get the ipad, slam the door hard so they hear me coming and I hand it to them and I say, “See what happens when you’re bein good?”
My kid is growing up to be a powerful, violent young boy.
What he can’t manipulate out of you with hatred, he’ll back up with cruelty.
Long and short of it is, oops — my winky made a stinky! and i went uh oh thinky? and now i kind of drinky, to pass the time away.
Shouldn’t have had kids, anyway enjoy this ecological disaster i just unleashed on yall ok goodnight love yuns
NEW YORK—Hello guys! WHAT is up, it’s your boi Old Brutus coming at you MOST relaxed today, and first off – I want to say – I was not paid to produce the following review. I wrote this material of my own accord after taking advice from a trusted vagrant, who you’ll read about below, and I owe my renewed outlook and sense of chill directly to this kind, generous man and those words of wisdom he so graciously imparted to me.
I want to share his message, and my story, with you all here on this most sacred of platforms, the Internet Chronicle.
So yeah. I jerked off in the subway.
Here’s how it went down:
I had a real bad day at work. They don’t even know who I am out there! Next to me was an old homeless man, and he leaned in, he could see I was down on my luck, he was that kind of perceptive, spiritual hobo, you understand?
He leaned in, to me real close, and he said, “Tough day?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I briefly glanced at his face.
“Yeah,” I said. “Fucking miserable cunts don’t appreciate me.”
Ol feller leaned in again. Even closer, and he said, “Want to know what helps me?”
Feeling like I was fresh out of options, and half-curious to hear what he had to say, I said what?
He said, “Putting one hand tween my legs, and grabbing hold the root of my cock, you see? Like this…” He reached into his sagging military fatigues, and grabbed. “Then with your other hand, you just start cranking your hog, see? Right here on this train car!”
“Right here?” I asked. “In front of all these people?”
That’s right, he said, here on the 7 train. Told me to look them in the eye as I go.
I said, “Well, old timer, me being a young stripe such as I am, I guess I’m willing to try anything once, and while the day is still young, too.” So, in the spirit of good journalism — and with old wisdom in hand — I set out for a fresh start, and walked between train cars through the emergency door. Not that it matters, but I went backward, in the opposite direction we were going. Lights and graffiti shot by as my ears popped, and I felt like the Space Baby.
The next door opened into a full car, standing room only. That old fear returned, that it was going to be another one of “those” rides, again. That was when it occurred to me: the sheer, absolute power of what I am about to do. For the Lord knew, this was no typical commute.
If you’re standing up right now, you might want to sit down for this next part.
I unbuttoned the top button of my slacks, releasing the next button, as well as the two inner steel hooks of my smart brown work pants. Then I reached my skinny wrist into my pleated tech support khakis, and I just started working that shit.
Immediately, everyone around me got up to move, and get away. With the benches empty, I took a seat and – yes – you could say that by now, I was really manspreading.
People were disgusted. A horrified woman shot cellphone footage, which was seen last night around the world. So did a man. Also a man. There was actually another man filming, too, as I recall. As it turns out, there were a lot of men filming me.
So, long story short: Jerking off on the MTA sorted me right out! I rolled over and busted a fat nut in the corner as people insulted, stared, marveled and even dared to criticize. But in that moment, you really just don’t care. For one brief moment, I was truly free.
The rest of the ride was comfortable and went by without incident.
Folks across the nation are breathing in the clean, natural air of hopeful optimism with the COVID-19 pandemic now reduced to the status of the flu or the common cold. Herd immunity has finally kicked in, and Americans are again feeling cautiously safe and optimistic about the future.
“I’m optimistic that 2024 will be better than the past few years,” Benny Johnson told reporters. “It just has to be, right? It can’t get worse than this.”
However, most analysts strongly disagree with this new positive attitude. The consensus among trendcasters is that centuries of decline for human civilization are ahead, with no possible course correction.
“The conflict in Ukraine is continuing and even showing signs of intensifying. Meanwhile, the violent expulsion of Palestinians from Gaza by the Israeli military has widened into a conflict that has costly implications for global shipping routes,” Dr. Angstrom H. Troubador of the Future Institute told reporters. “The desperate financial optimism for computing businesses represents a dire overvaluation of an industry which is beginning to show signs of strain, with record layoffs for software companies in 2023. It’s only a matter of time before we see some major players go under. Another dotcom bust is on the bingo card for next year, and the second great depression to follow will ignite powder kegs on every continent.”
Dr. Troubador growled, like an animal, inspiring pangs of fear in the terrorized press corp assembled outside Lebal Drocer, Inc. “Among the most over-optimistic of all people are climate protestors who believe that there is any possible way to slow or undo changing weather patterns that are increasingly deadly to human life. The truth is that without the ever growing emissions there’s just no way to currently support the ever increasing population. By 2070, I predict there will be mosquitoes the size of pickup trucks, capable of sucking people dry through the spacesuits they’ll need to survive outdoors.” Troubador twisted the rhetorical knife with a grim half smile, adding, “Snake oil sales, however, are through the roof. Remember folks, TerrorMax is the one and only FDA-free drug manufactured, packaged, and shipped by drone from international waters that also fully treats the terror of historic forces beyond your control. Take TerrorMax now. Don’t settle for that ol’ wives’ tale that booze and dope is enough when you have thousands of dial-a-yield doomsday weapons in the death grips of absolute madmen. Take matters into your own hands.”