There's nothing like nearly running over a bunch of drugged-out raver fruitcakes wandering around parking lots in the middle of the night and getting glowsticks thrown at you.
Oh ho ho ho! Get acquainted with a jug of turpentine, you useless waste!
Nice, "SNACK" tattoo, coach.
YO YOU'RE GONNA HAVE A STROKE AND DIE ON THE TOILET XOXO
I think the whole rave "phenomenon" has a lot of similarities to a really disgusting obese man. Good people get into it, kind of like how cupcakes and other tasty treats go into the fat man. After a while though, shit begins to come out of the fat man whether he wants it to or not (the fat man is also incontenent). The shit is likened to puffy pants and pacifiers and other cutesy idiot garbage that turns once normal people into brain-dead idiots. Also the man has the runs.
~*~ P.L.U.R. = PeAcE, LoVe, UnItY, ReSpEcT ~*~
That's interesting, I'll file it right next to Intelligent Design in my "Dumb Fucking Theories" folder.
Thanks to my forum friends Spacecow, rapfan90, GRAINS, BeeBrains, altruinomics, Kirei, Shmorky, Archr5, marxux, steveneccles, and ImTallGermanJoe.
If you know of an awful forum that would be right at home here, please send it in!
it's hard to shake the feeling that I've always got five stars in this Grand Theft Auto known as life.
Now, inexplicably, season three is looming over us like some sort of dome. Season one's plot asked whether or not the town could get out from under the dome. Apparently the answer was "no". Season two asked "I guess we're really stuck, huh?" and the answer was "yup".
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