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1 month agoLet’s hear it.
The details of my life are quite inconsequential… very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.
Let’s hear it.
“Unprecedented” and “Slammed”
I read those two words in any article and I’m immediately second guessing my will to read more.
Cancer rope-a-doping us with robots and AI.
Kill me snoo snoo bot.
Now THIS is pod racing.