The anticipation of death is far worse than death itself

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Righ-wing antifascist super-left-wing statists!
content note: This Is A Political Post.

that's right, cunts, it's time to get political. i'll skip the whole beating around the bush thing and get straight to the point. now, you may think to yourself, "is this cunt really a political blogger, offending and educating thousands of readers daily? is he indeed the triggerer of the lefties, the infuriator of the right-wingers, and just a generally unpleasant writer who is just out to cause havoc in the big bad political world?"

the answer to the question posed in the above paragraph is quite simple, my friend: i am here to tell you about the best fucking fish'n'chips I've ever had.

it all started yesterday morning, at a nondescript cooking school running classes for NEET assholes who can't cook anything more sophisticated than dog shit on toast. i quietly listened to the chef's instructions as she told us all about seafood and how to make it taste really fucking good. we got chopping, sautéing, skewering, de-boning, frying, and had a jolly good time. then, we had all that shit for breakfast, and it all tasted great. they even gave us a glass of wine. fuck, what a day.

today, i drove around meaninglessly, as i tend to do when i need to clear my head and think rationally about Trump's visit to Saudi Arabia. i'm also sick and fucking tired of people making fun of Trump's hair. i'm convinced that the detractors are simply jealous.

after a good deal of spinning the wheel and being offended by big hyper-masculine four wheel drives, i ended up in a beautiful suburb called Boobturdsville. i go there often, and i always buy fish'n'chips there. best-tasting shit ever, period. pre-menstrual tension. big juicy tits.


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