Are these real stock picture models like Harold/distracted boyfriend, or are they AI-generated?
Are these real stock picture models like Harold/distracted boyfriend, or are they AI-generated?
By using this toilet you “agree” consent to our updated reams of legal mumbo jumbo designed to overwhelm you, and which chips away at your rights and hands them over to us.
If you click “disagree”, you are free to have your gallbladder feel as if it is going to burst, which may cause internal damage that is NOT our responsibility.
This restroom service has been brought to you by the techbro suits eyeing that new Learjet for unlimited weekend cocaine-and-hookers trips to Vegas and the Caribbean.
…and Elvis has left the building!
Back in the 90s and pre-internet, I knew nothing about numbers stations. One time I borrowed my dad’s hefty portable radio, which he used for listening to Vin Scully doing the play-by-play of Dodgers games, but it was the off-season, so I took it for a few months.
Back then I lived in a cabin right on the edge of my town, and I’m a night owl, so I was utterly alone one night at around 2am, when I came across one of these numbers stations right in the act of doing its’ thing with a robotic female voice, just for a few minutes before regressing to static noise.
The whole experience spooked me, it stayed with me. On subsequent nights I scanned the dial again and again, to see if I could stumble across this thing again, but I never did catch it live again. It was years later that I found The Conet Project website and finally knew what the hell that transmission was about, sort of.
Nancy…
Adam…
Susan…
Nancy…
Adam…
Susan…
Oh look, a senile narcissist spews yet another chunk in a near-endless stream of mental diarrhea!
Better make a “news” article about it! So informed!
Who took this picture, Legolas?
One does not simply enter Akihabara.
April 12, Yuri Gagarin Day, that is Cat Day in our family’s life.
HELLOOOO TULSA OKLAHOMA!!!
TONITE I’M GONNA ROCK YOU TONITE!!!
Daddy didn’t Puff himself. No, wait a minute, he did do that.
No, wait… Daddy un-Puffed to P and Diddy’d himself.
Then he un-P’d himself.
137 times more powerful than the Electromagnetism you try and use to tear them apart, behold the Strong Pasta Friendship Force!
“But why?”
“Because we have to stretch the goddamned season from 12 to 24 goddamned episodes, that’s why. We have to go back because we have to burn airtime meandering in pointless circles, that’s why. That and Mystery Box™️!!!”
Meanwhile, the Romulans:
“I FART IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION!!!”
The crowd that murdoch and limbaugh handed the orange parasite on a platter, does not care about pesky and boring little things like facts and figures. It is an irrational mob fed with bacteria-infested red meat for two decades. They can only be reached via the basest of impulses, ripe pickings only for the most ignorant and/or shameless of conmen. It doesn’t help society that the right-wing toxic propaganda machine operates at full blast 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
Here I am, as tuxedo Pooh:
Audiogalaxy and Soulseek
That’s an angle I’ve yet to see at upscale markets, turbo-branding the specific qualities of olive oil from Morocco.
Someone could make a fortune if they’re not careful!
“Whoops! I slipped on Moroccan olive oil and hit the ground rich!”
Shinzo Abe because of Fukushima and the Tohoku earthquake/tsunami event, I presume?
Where’s that bottom image from? I can’t place it, but if I was a betting man I’d say that’s from the flash-forward in the finale of the penultimate season of LOST, when the doctor is back in the real world, popping pills and swigging Jack Daniels.
🎵 ORE ROREN OTEN DAY!
ORE ROTEN DEYO!
(HEY!!!)
ORE ROREN OTEN DAY…
FATTENING UP OUR TAPEWORMS! 🎵