Terrorists. This is a picture of terrorists.

Damn, I can see her pores

Your post just reminded me that I did infact pick up the remaster, but forgot about it. I know what I'm playing next.

*play dead without the stigma

Funky slap bass fill.

ITT: people who believe parents never take pictures of their kids while they do funny things.

they very likely didn’t know you were a woman, I didn't. I don't usually check the user profile and comment history of whoever I am responding to to verify their demographics before responding.

An app is the only formal written communication method I have with my apartment complex. And it's a shit app. I sent my 60 days move out notice to "management" on their app and the message went and sat in someone's inbox who no longer works there. Just give me a damn team email or something. Luckily that screw up was their fault and didn't impact my move out.

Thanks! I think I’m just going to upload progressively larger images to my instance and see where uploads fail lol.

cheers, I have alts on other servers already I just like ML because it feels more active (I stay clear from the politics subs though, and block a lot of users)

I used to enjoy following that community on another platform before I left.

Potent Potables -- from (SNL's) Celebrity Jeopardy.

Ah ok, that's a better outcome!

The comments on that are pretty awful. Bunch of reactionaries using it as an excuse to dish on marginalised groups.

I think we also should consider the machine of civilization can't be stopped once started. Steering it is a monumental effort. My best guess is they don't care, or simply can't alter the course we are on.

A bloke at the pub told me

--. . ... - ..- .-. . ... / -... .-. --- .- -.. .-.. -.--

Like this? [image: 8f2a3566-d45b-402d-8ed0-f41b8aa96191.jpeg]

Holy necro-post Squeezer Man!

"I dreamed I saw my maternal grandmother sitting by the bank of a swimming pool, that was also a river. In real life, she had been a victim of Alzheimer’s disease, and had regressed, before her death, to a semi-conscious state. In the dream, as well, she had lost her capacity for self-control. Her genital region was exposed, dimly; it had the appearance of a thick mat of hair. She was stroking herself, absent-mindedly. She walked over to me, with a handful of pubic hair, compacted into something resembling a large artist’s paint-brush. She pushed this at my face. I raised my arm, several times, to deflect her hand; finally, unwilling to hurt her, or interfere with her any farther, I let her have her way. She stroked my face with the brush, gently, and said, like a child, “isn’t it soft?” I looked at her ruined face and said, “yes, Grandma, it’s soft." -Jordan Peterson