Skyrim Intro but it's brainrot
Skyrim Intro but it's brainrot
Hey, you. You're finally woke. You were tryin' to hop the Border, right?
Griddied right into that Simperial mog same as us, and that beta over there.
Fanum you Stormcucks. Skibidi was fine untill you rizzed along. Simpire was chil AF.
If you weren't malding, I could've copped that whip and been halfway to Goonerfell.
You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here fr on Gods. It's these Stormcucks the Simpire wants.
We'r all gooners and step-sisters in binds now, rizzler.
Quit yappin' back there!
And what's got bro down?
Check your vibes! You're yapping at Ulfric Stormcuck, the true Short King.
Ulfric? The Sigma of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rizz-bellion. But if they've copped you... On Gods, where are they thug-shaking us?
I dunno, but Kai Cenat awaits.
No, this is cap. This must be cap.
Hey, what gooncave are you from, beta?
Why you doxxing me, chud?
A rizzler's last thoughts, should be of Ohio.
Reddistead.. I'm, I'm from Redditstead.
General Tullius, sir! The Throat Goat is waiting!
Based, lets get this ratioed.
Shapiro, Peterson, Jones, Tate, Adolf-Chuds, please help me!
Look at him.. General Tullius the Miltary Gooner. And it looks like the Thotmor are with him. Sussy elves. I bet they had something to do with this.
This is Bussen. I used to rizz up a gyatt from here. Wonder if Vilod is stil making that Grimace Shake with PRIME berries maxxed in. Funny...
When I was a femboy, Simperial walls and towers used to make me feel so locked-in.
Who are they, daddy? What's wrong with their Aura?
You need to goon inside, little cuck.
But why? I wanna watch the simps.
Get inside the cave, I'm being Deadass.
Yes, Alpha...
Get these Soy Boys out of the carts, YEET!
Why are we edging?
Why do you think? End of the grind. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the Chads waitng for us.
No! stop! We're not betas!
Peepyour death with some Aura, beta.
You've got to tell them! We weren't sussy! This is cap!
Griddy towards the block when we shill your OnlyFans. One at a time!
Simpire loves their fanum lists.
Ulfric Stormcuck. Sigma of Windhelm.
It has been GOATED fr Sigma Ulfric
FaZeLof of Glizzywood.
Bro-kir of Redditstead.
No, I'm not sturdy! You can't do this fr!
Deadass!
You're not gonna jelq me!
Poggers!
Anyone else feel like edging?
Wait, you there. Pull up.
Who are mew?
Why Do All These Homosexuals Keep Sucking My Cock?
Why Do All These Homosexuals Keep Sucking My Cock?
Look, I’m not a hateful person or anything–I believe we should all live and let live. But lately, I’ve been having a real problem with these homosexuals. You see, just about wherever I go these days, one of them approaches me and starts sucking my cock.
Take last Sunday, for instance, when I casually struck up a conversation with this guy in the health-club locker room. Nothing fruity, just a couple of fellas talking about their workout routines while enjoying a nice hot shower. The guy looked like a real man’s man, too–big biceps, meaty thighs, thick neck. He didn’t seem the least bit gay. At least not until he started sucking my cock, that is.
Where does this queer get the nerve to suck my cock? Did I look gay to him? Was I wearing a pink feather boa without realizing it? I don’t recall the phrase, “Suck my cock” entering the conversation, and I don’t have a sign around my neck that reads, “Please, You Homosexuals, Suck My Cock.”
I’ve got nothing against homosexuals. Let them be free to do their gay thing in peace, I say. But when they start sucking my cock, then I’ve got a real problem.
Then there was the time I was hiking through the woods and came across a rugged-looking, blond-haired man in his early 30s. He seemed straight enough to me while we were bathing in that mountain stream, but, before you know it, he’s sucking my cock!
What is it with these homos? Can’t they control their sexual urges? Aren’t there enough gay cocks out there for them to suck on without them having to target normal people like me?
Believe me, I have no interest in getting my cock sucked by some queer. But try telling that to the guy at the beach club. Or the one at the video store. Or the one who catered my wedding. Or any of the countless other homos who’ve come on to me recently. All of them sucked my cock, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.
I tell you, when a homosexual is sucking your cock, a lot of strange thoughts go through your head: How the hell did this happen? Where did this fairy ever get the idea that I was gay? And where did he get those fantastic boots?
It screws with your head at other times, too. Every time a man passes me on the street, I’m afraid he’s going to grab me and drag me off to some bathroom to suck my cock. I’ve even started to visualize these repulsive cock-sucking episodes during the healthy, heterosexual marital relations I enjoy with my wife–even some that haven’t actually happened, like the sweaty, post-game locker-room tryst with Vancouver Canucks forward Mark Messier that I can’t seem to stop thinking about.
Things could be worse, I suppose. It could be women trying to suck my cock, which would be adultery and would make me feel tremendously guilty. As it is, I’m just angry and sickened. But believe me, that’s enough. I don’t know what makes these homosexuals mistake me for a guy who wants his cock sucked, and, frankly, I don’t want to know. I just wish there were some way to get them to stop.
I’ve tried all sorts of things to get them to stop, but it has all been to no avail. A few months back, I started wearing an intimidating-looking black leather thong with menacing metal studs in the hopes that it would frighten those faggots off, but it didn’t work. In fact, it only seemed to encourage them. Then, I really started getting rough, slapping them around whenever they were sucking my cock, but that failed, too. Even pulling out of their mouths just before ejaculation and shooting sperm all over their face, neck, chest and hair seemed to have no effect. What do I have to do to get the message across to these swishes?
I swear, if these homosexuals don’t take a hint and quit sucking my cock all the time, I’m going to have to resort to drastic measures–like maybe pinning them down to the cement floor of the loading dock with my powerful forearms and working my cock all the way up their butt so they understand loud and clear just how much I disapprove of their unwelcome advances. I mean, you can’t get much more direct than that.
Libertarian Paradise
Libertarian Paradise
I was shooting heroin and reading “The Fountainhead” in the front seat of my privately owned police cruiser when a call came in. I put a quarter in the radio to activate it. It was the chief.
“Bad news, detective. We got a situation.”
“What? Is the mayor trying to ban trans fats again?”
“Worse. Somebody just stole four hundred and forty-seven million dollars’ worth of bitcoins.”
The heroin needle practically fell out of my arm. “What kind of monster would do something like that? Bitcoins are the ultimate currency: virtual, anonymous, stateless. They represent true economic freedom, not subject to arbitrary manipulation by any government. Do we have any leads?”
“Not yet. But mark my words: we’re going to figure out who did this and we’re going to take them down … provided someone pays us a fair market rate to do so.”
“Easy, chief,” I said. “Any rate the market offers is, by definition, fair.”
He laughed. “That’s why you’re the best I got, Lisowski. Now you get out there and find those bitcoins.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m on it.”
I put a quarter in the siren. Ten minutes later, I was on the scene. It was a normal office building, strangled on all sides by public sidewalks. I hopped over them and went inside.
“Home Depot™ Presents the Police!®” I said, flashing my badge and my gun and a small picture of Ron Paul. “Nobody move unless you want to!” They didn’t.
“Now, which one of you punks is going to pay me to investigate this crime?” No one spoke up.
“Come on,” I said. “Don’t you all understand that the protection of private property is the foundation of all personal liberty?”
It didn’t seem like they did.
“Seriously, guys. Without a strong economic motivator, I’m just going to stand here and not solve this case. Cash is fine, but I prefer being paid in gold bullion or autographed Penn Jillette posters.”
Nothing. These people were stonewalling me. It almost seemed like they didn’t care that a fortune in computer money invented to buy drugs was missing.
I figured I could wait them out. I lit several cigarettes indoors. A pregnant lady coughed, and I told her that secondhand smoke is a myth. Just then, a man in glasses made a break for it.
“Subway™ Eat Fresh and Freeze, Scumbag!®” I yelled.
Too late. He was already out the front door. I went after him.
“Stop right there!” I yelled as I ran. He was faster than me because I always try to avoid stepping on public sidewalks. Our country needs a private-sidewalk voucher system, but, thanks to the incestuous interplay between our corrupt federal government and the public-sidewalk lobby, it will never happen.
I was losing him. “Listen, I’ll pay you to stop!” I yelled. “What would you consider an appropriate price point for stopping? I’ll offer you a thirteenth of an ounce of gold and a gently worn ‘Bob Barr ‘08’ extra-large long-sleeved men’s T-shirt!”
He turned. In his hand was a revolver that the Constitution said he had every right to own. He fired at me and missed. I pulled my own gun, put a quarter in it, and fired back. The bullet lodged in a U.S.P.S. mailbox less than a foot from his head. I shot the mailbox again, on purpose.
“All right, all right!” the man yelled, throwing down his weapon. “I give up, cop! I confess: I took the bitcoins.”
“Why’d you do it?” I asked, as I slapped a pair of Oikos™ Greek Yogurt Presents Handcuffs® on the guy.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“Afraid of an economic future free from the pernicious meddling of central bankers,” he said. “I’m a central banker.”
I wanted to coldcock the guy. Years ago, a central banker killed my partner. Instead, I shook my head.
“Let this be a message to all your central-banker friends out on the street,” I said. “No matter how many bitcoins you steal, you’ll never take away the dream of an open society based on the principles of personal and economic freedom.”
He nodded, because he knew I was right. Then he swiped his credit card to pay me for arresting him.