For a single moment, the Daemon slipped and Donald Trumps soul came to the forefront. Long enough for his facial muscles to hint the motion of what should be a decades long suppressed scream of agony and terror. The Daemon retakes control of the body immediately, chaining Trumps soul into his subconscious depths.
“That wasn’t the deal, Donnie”, it whispered. “We aren’t done yet.”
I can’t take it anymore. I want to play it now. Today a friend and I both chat about what’s new, speculate and make comparisons to Space Exploration. We actually still are doing that.
GF and I are about to go eat some sushi in a fancy restaurant and the only thing I can think about is blasting my cargo into space one more time. We already got the confirmation that Space Age won’t be as complex and challenging as Space Exploration, but I can’t wait to see what crazy stuff the modders will come up with!
Can I get into trouble for calling myself an “investigative journalist”? Like, can I stand in front of the camera and say the dumbest, factually most incorrect shit, like these vatnik bitches and still call myself that, even I didn’t learn that job somewhere? Is there any kind of legal trouble I have to expect as long as I don’t go full Alex Jones?
Not only as an encouragement to make someone vote, but also for safety reasons. I have a bad feeling about the US elections next month. The cult has shown that they will do anything to keep people from voting against their messiah.
Last time I was on the dating market some of these people popped up on the dating app. Holy hell and it were always the maniacs that had to make their dumbassery public.
My favourite was that young lady who was extremely anti vax and tried to make it a “my body my choice” kind of thing. Everything read like she died on that hill a couple of times already.
Not if you made “being upset” your character trait. There are too many kids (and adults with the mental capability of kids) who fall for this crap over and over again. It wouldn’t be that frustrating when they got upset about stuff that’s actually real.
For a single moment, the Daemon slipped and Donald Trumps soul came to the forefront. Long enough for his facial muscles to hint the motion of what should be a decades long suppressed scream of agony and terror. The Daemon retakes control of the body immediately, chaining Trumps soul into his subconscious depths.
“That wasn’t the deal, Donnie”, it whispered. “We aren’t done yet.”