I think it goes without sayin' that not everything needs to be bore towards the monotony of social media. Call me old-fashioned, invisibility is a superpower, but I think we can keep "I just drank a cup of water" and "dropped a duece so lethal it peeled the paint off the walls" in your pocket.
D --> The lows of operational security you find on this site are abyssal and without highs to average them out
Downright shameful. It's the equivalent of wordy crop milk, regurgitated from the open mouths of internet netizens and shoved down the gullet of babes. Anyway, I'll forgive that you had to sit on this post for nearly 24 hours before agreeing with me, because I get that deliberations are all jury-like where it pertains guys (like you) who keep everything close to vest. Hung jury, anybody? That's the punchline I was setting up just now, by the way.
D --> A response doled out a pithy twenty four hours after the fact does not count as a necro but yes basically that D --> The line in the sand between fed, feedee and what the fetid mi% of premasticated grubswill itself represents is shifting constantly in innovatively more annoying dire%ions
D --> If not for the bondage of b100d signed on printer paper, the tight leash of corporate dominance and it's associated PR responsibilities I w001d not be subjecting myself to this stupid routine
And yet, here you are. Doggin' the hogs while you slop with the best of them. Don't act like the mud splatter on your collar was purely coincidence, you've entered the pig pen and have already begun committing the cardinal sins of covert operations by immediately oversharing. Contracts? PR? All I hear is "oink, oink, oink", as your curly tail wags through the slop you've immersed yourself in. Class act.
D --> Yes e%actly you shall continue down this thought avenue even without verbalizing it and imagine me with my head held 100w chowing down on proverbial apple cores and carrot shavings in a trough despite my otherwise noble position as an act of insubordination most cruel and lowkey disrespectful to the beasts you are using to degrade my good name
Oh, cool. Just in case we forgot that there was a constant perverted undertone here, the foal of Diomedes himself appears to tenderly gnaw the hide off my ass. It's not that I have an issue with thrusting your thing with degradation onto unsuspecting passersby, it's just that I like to sit at my desk without feeling a secondhand dampness meet my fingers through the screen. I've barely fledged the depths of your depravity, and yet you've left me pruny, regardless of my hesitation. Anyway. What I'm saying is that you shattered the illusion of your projected image. You're as tactless as the gimpclad ponysimps that decorate my electronics in an allegedly post-ironic way. I know you aren't actually that held together, so. What am I supposed to get out of this, again? You ruined the pleasure of deconstruction. You ruined my fantasy of weakening the strong and strengthening the weak. Good going. Now I have nothing, because you're a genuine starfish. All-consuming. Thanks. Be better, do better. I expected more from you. Don't play in my face like this again.