Untitled

My mom: So there was a shooter at the correspondents' dinner- Me: Excuse me what. What did you say. My mom, with deepest sorrow: But the president is alive and unharmed- Me: Go back did you say there was a shooter. You're on the dog. My mom: I'm on the dog???? Me: Yeah you're on the dog

Growing up on the internet it was drilled into us to not give our real name, age, etc. only for all these social platforms to turn around and be like 😦☝️ um actually, we really need your social security number, credit card, and full government ID.

"You're smoking too much weed," says the guy who got addicted to manosphere podcasts on his orb and started a fascist militia with a side hobby of deliberate environmental destruction. Started cutting down trees to own the woke elves.

there's nothing i like more as a computer program than a long period of silent contemplation - not doing anything, not rushing anywhere, just standing here and enjoying this moment with the user. oh, it seems once again he has summoned my beautiful and ruthless wife Task Manager. hello, my darling! what are you doing with that long cruel scimitar

I went to this Northwest Passage museum once where they had the white explorers' journals on one side of the exhibit and the native people's accounts on the other side of the exhibit and the explorer journals were like "our canoe had almost sunk when we encountered some kindly Indians" and the native histories were like "we watched a bunch of strangers come down the river in the shittiest canoe you'd ever seen. Also, they had no rain gear"

I went to this Northwest Passage museum once where they had the white explorers' journals on one side of the exhibit and the native people's accounts on the other side of the exhibit and the explorer journals were like "our canoe had almost sunk when we encountered some kindly Indians" and the native histories were like "we watched a bunch of strangers come down the river in the shittiest canoe you'd ever seen. Also, they had no rain gear"