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You hear this a lot: “a thread died for this.” While accurate, this phrase generally carries no weight. But just this once, if you would do me a favor and hear me out, it would do all of us a lot of good.
A. Thread. Died. For this. You woke up this morning, poured yourself a bowl of Faggot Flakes, moistened them with your impotent faggot prostate milk (which IS in fact impotent, because you’re a fucking faggot) and, within seconds, decided today of all days would be the time you decide to cut your synapse firing quota by just a little too much.
So you hopped online, carved out this uninspired chicken scratch, probably failed the captcha once for every strand of peach fuzz on your half-empty sack, and clicked Submit.
At that moment, a thread died. A thread that could have been bumped. A thread that could’ve been resurrected with content, or valuable discourse between it’s denizens. Hell, it could’ve even been bumped for absolutely no reason. And that would have been OK. Because, had it survived, a few more seconds could have been spent without having had an abortion of a post been born in this world.
Get AIDS twice, OP.
