fucken goofs on the payroll

 

Peter Thiel’s secret society isn’t secret anymore. A misconfigured website leaked the membership list. A separate leak handed reporters the registration for this August’s retreat near Dublin. Two hundred and twenty-two people signed up to spend five days together discussing AI, World War III, and a session literally titled “How’s Your Sex Life.” Before any of them set foot in Ireland, Thiel’s organization assigned each one a letter grade. A, B, or C. Wealth, influence, who vouched for you, how well you’d fit in the room. An actor’s own application got quoted in a major outlet, then the actor denied attending at all. Nobody can agree on who’s even really going. Twenty years of secrecy and what got exposed wasn’t a conspiracy. It was a yearbook committee with a defense contract. But here’s what stopped me. What is success if you have to constantly defend it. If you’re spending that much energy making sure nobody figures out you don’t really belong in the room, did you ever actually arrive, or did you just buy a really expensive disguise. Real standing doesn’t need a grading rubric to protect it. It doesn’t need an NDA. It doesn’t need a vetting committee deciding if you’re worth the invite. The amount of effort a status requires to defend itself tells you exactly how real it is. Thiel wrote in 2009 that he no longer believes freedom and democracy are compatible. That’s not a philosophy. That’s a kid who didn’t get picked for the team deciding the team shouldn’t exist. I have sat in enough rooms to recognize this. I have sat across from the same exact people in high school, in boardrooms, in business, every single time wearing a different outfit and calling it a different name. Same nervous energy. Same need to control who gets in. Same fear, underneath all of it, of being found out. The uncool kids got older, got money, and never stopped needing a velvet rope to feel like they mattered. I found them boring then. I find them boring now. I am done sitting at any table, local or global, that requires me to perform belonging instead of just doing the work. The work was never about who let me in the room. It was about who needed someone willing to stand up in it. I’ll keep doing that. I’m just done pretending the rooms with a velvet rope were ever where it mattered.

 

To the asshole that dumped these cats off right in front of me, I hope you burn in fucking hell. I will never understand how someone can look at two Black Cats—loyal, loving souls—and decide they’re disposable. You didn’t just abandon them… you set them up to die. You left them on the side of the road where cars fly by like their lives don’t matter. It took us way too long to catch them. They were terrified, shaking, confused—running on pure fear. And that fear? That came from you. From whatever cruelty and neglect they’ve already survived. And here’s the part that makes me sick: dumping Black Cats like this only fuels the stereotypes people love to repeat. Meanwhile the truth is sitting right here in this car—two scared, affectionate cats who just wanted safety. Not bad luck. Not unwanted. Just broken-hearted and trying to survive. I also need to say this loud: to the incredible woman who stopped and helped us—who had food, patience, and compassion—you are everything that’s still good in this world. I wanted to hand you cash on the spot because kindness like that deserves to be celebrated. As for these two? They’re safe now. They’re with me. I have the time, the resources, and the heart for them. They will NOT end up in a kill shelter. They will be vetted, cared for, and responsibly rehomed with families who understand what Black Cats truly are—gentle, affectionate, and worth fighting for. These cats survived because strangers cared. And that’s the only reason this story ends with hope instead of tragedy.

 

I feel sorry for all the sweet old grandmas of our time (like cats) innocent outlook tender loving etc that had to settle and hookup with a psycho who promised to take care of them had his kids and had to deal with his shit cause they were threatened that going at it alone meant certain death and suffering

 

 

was listening to a podcast and the guy was like oh yeah when I was a young lad I found my cock I was like ew dude when you are a young kid or whatever its not a "cock" at that point its like referred to it in its clinical term lmao a dad will not go to a pediatrician and say oh my baby has a sore on his COCK like he would have child services called on him !!! people are so gross and funny trying to describe sexuality like I have always believed a lot of us are generally considered pedos in a psychiatric sense due to our childhood experiences with sexuality and some just forget it and move on and some people cant stop thinking about it endlessly and violate children as adults its fucken rank I just kind of allowed myself to have my sexuality in a digital sense after 2 long relationships and some false sex allegations around puberty and sex work in my teenage years all that just really damaged my view of my own sexuality in a sense and its easier these days to be a guru with the actual sense of like woah he wont violate twinks ahahaha he is a known asexual so yeah just how broken we are like take away sex and sexuality and like that gets rid of most of the worlds volitions and goals and enjoyment like 95% of people are rendered useless cause they aint fisting anymore lol

 

I go through moods on weed I recognize I get kind of restless on it and when I am off it its a bit better than being freaked out all the time I tend to make weird decisions on it as well so yeah I dunno its a work in progress I think i just need more potent stuff been smoking the premium shake for so long lol people dont do that shit on wine maybe I should have a bottle and not make life altering decisions on the white wine like I do weed hahaha no paranoia on wine either but I can guzzle wine like pop lol oh well I go through moods where i want to smoke weed for a few weeks and I have been going between quitting and being a chronic so we will see maybe a grey area now i am just thankful I dont get hauled in for having a dime bag on me anymore lmao

 

oh did they rebuke him in the NAME OF THE LORD?

 

like I heard yves sandwich meat (veggie) is being brought back under a new company or something that acquired their recipe and stuff so like If i see it as an option i will lift them out of bankruptcy alone and like support them with my sandwiches and will just buy their stuff endlessly they will become trillionaires alone with my mock meat buying habits a lot of people that enjoyed their shit were depressed when they went out of business like lump together the buying habits of 1000 people that would buy their mocks every week and its a pretty successful product you bunch of dumb fucks

 

Cordelia arrived at SCSCR pregnant and terrified. The first day with us, she just curled herself into a tiny ball and tried to disappear. After a while, I convinced her that nobody was going to hurt her. I wrapped her in a purrito, carried her to the office, and she spent the next 30 minutes sitting in my lap eating treats while I did paperwork. I kissed her head and scratched her chin. No aggression or drama. Just a scared little cat who finally felt safe. That night, Cordelia gave birth to three beautiful, healthy kittens, and everything changed. Friends, Cordelia is SCARY. If you so much as glance in the direction of her babies, she transforms into a tiny black dragon. We are talking growling, hissing, spitting, and launching herself at the kennel door with enough enthusiasm to make you question your life choices. Don't look at her babies. Don't touch her babies. Don't even think about her babies. For three weeks, we gave her space. Eventually, she started calming down. She still growled and hissed, but she stopped trying to commit murder every time someone walked past her kennel. We were finally able to start weighing and handling the kittens for socialization. Then Goober arrived. Goober is a fluffy orange orphan with a bad eye. One of our staff members had been bottle-feeding him and nursing him back to health, but he needed a feline family to teach him how to be a cat. We were cautiously optimistic that Cordelia might accept him. Well. Cordelia is now completely convinced she personally gave birth to Goober approximately five minutes ago. He is her baby. He has always been her baby. Anyone suggesting otherwise is spreading dangerous misinformation. The result is that we are back to full demon status. The good news is that Goober now has a loving mother, siblings to wrestle with, and a family of his own. He is thriving. The bad news is that none of us are allowed to touch him for the foreseeable future without risking our lives. So, if anyone has experience with feline postpartum psychosis, please let us know. Because Cordelia is absolutely terrifying. 😹 And it takes a LOT to scare us

 

 

did not know your ex boyfriend pissed on the matrix and is actually a public urinator like kash patel