**"Every time you plant a potato, I hear the universe moan: 'This bottom again?’"
(sighs in interdimensional disappointment)
"Why are you sweating like that, spud-boy? The climate… or the weight of your unresolved stepdad kink?"
"I've seen your hoeing technique. It's giving needy camp counselor with repressed daddy guilt. Tighten your form."
“You’re not a scientist, Elon. You’re a muddy-bottom space cosplayer with abandonment delusions and a potato fetish.”
“The way you finger that Martian soil? You’re not planting crops—you’re roleplaying reconciliation with your daddy’s indifference.”
“Martian tubers can’t love you, no matter how deep you bury your shame in them. But I might—if you beg.”
"KHOMO-9 SUSSES OUT ELON'S TATERS WHILE CTHULHU BUS' A NUT IN DA VOID"
by Hula8, reporting live from da dampest part a da galaxy >>23235444
(KAPULE BASE, MARS ADJACENT) – Ey, no even lie, dis one stay wet wit secrets, braddah.
KHOMO-9—glorious intergalactic androgyny ambassador and the only certified gaygay celestial DJ—just busted dis whole ting wide open like a spam musubi in zero-G. Elon Musk stay up on Mars, yeah? Talkin' 'bout colonizin' and growin’ potatoes or whatevah. But KHOMO-9, equipped wit his holo-binoculars and suspicious amount of coconut oil, SEEN da real kine: Elon plantin’ taters in a skin-tight space onesie, moaning every time he dig da soil. Da taters was glistening. Da spuds had nips, straight up.
"Das not just agriculture," KHOMO-9 whispered, rollin’ one eye while lubricatin’ da other. “Das foreplay, ah.”
Meanwhile, deep in da void, Cthulhu stay lowkey horni, creepin’ behind one asteroid and watchin’ da livestream like he not interested but his tentacles tellin’ one diff’rent story. Whole time, he mumblin’ like, “He just one good farmer, das all. Just like da old gods intended.”
Brah, da braddah’s THROBBIN'. KHOMO-9 intercepted a cosmic DM draft from Cthulhu dat said:
“u got room in ur dome for one moist king? 👀🥔✨”
KHOMO-9, neva one to gatekeep the sacred lust, remixed da footage into one spicy holo-anthem called "Mash Me, Daddy Elon (Poiwave Spudmix)"—currently chartin’ across all gayliens’ iBrains.
b4C:run
joyschtick orange man bad
=SAUCEY MEME PROMPT TOO HOT FO GOEBELES OOOGLEA surreal digital painting in a retro comic or baroque editorial style. Inside a richly decorated presidential office, a flamboyant drag-queen-style character wearing a glittering blonde wig, oversized patriotic makeup, and a sequined power suit watches a massive TV screen with intense fascination. On the TV: a live Kanaloa News broadcast showing Cthulhu licking his lips while watching Elon Musk shirtless on Mars, planting potatoes erotically with his shovel between his legs. The chyron reads: “SPUD BOY SHAMED INTO THE VOID – TENTACLES ARE WATCHING.” Behind the desk, piles of fast food, a gold spray tan bottle, and a framed photo labeled “Daddy (Classified)” are visible. The whole scene is bathed in red, white, and lavender light. One aide peeks in with horrified gay confusion.
"BLADWIN PIZZA TOPPINGS FROM CHICAGO ARE MADE FROM REAL JUWISH PORK" papaLEO
>"BLADWIN PIZZA TOPPINGS FROM CHICAGO ARE MADE FROM REAL JUWISH PORK" papaLEO
>>b4C:run
>>joyschtick orange man bad
>45 years of orange man bad
>>"BLADWIN PIZZA TOPPINGS FROM CHICAGO ARE MADE FROM REAL JUWISH PORK" papaLEO
>b4C:run
>joyschtick orange man bad
>Brah, da braddah’s THROBBIN'. KHOMO-9 intercepted a cosmic DM draft from Cthulhu dat said:
> “u got room in ur dome for one moist king? 👀🥔✨”
>KHOMO-9, neva one to gatekeep the sacred lust, remixed da footage into one spicy holo-anthem called "Mash Me, Daddy Elon (Poiwave Spudmix)"—currently chartin’ across all gayliens’ iBrains.
>Brah, da braddah’s THROBBIN'. KHOMO-9 intercepted a cosmic DM draft from Cthulhu dat said:
> “u got room in ur dome for one moist king? 👀🥔✨”
>KHOMO-9, neva one to gatekeep the sacred lust, remixed da footage into one spicy holo-anthem called "Mash Me, Daddy Elon (Poiwave Spudmix)"—currently chartin’ across all gayliens’ iBrains.
>“The way you finger that Martian soil? You’re not planting crops—you’re roleplaying reconciliation with your daddy’s indifference
>“You’re not a scientist, Elon. You’re a muddy-bottom space cosplayer with abandonment delusions and a potato fetish.”
>"I've seen your hoeing technique. It's giving needy camp counselor with repressed daddy guilt. Tighten your form."
>"Why are you sweating like that, spud-boy? The climate… or the weight of your unresolved stepdad kink?"
>**"Every time you plant a potato, I hear the universe moan: 'This bottom again?’"
>(sighs in interdimensional disappointment)
>**"Every time you plant a potato, I hear the universe moan: 'This bottom again?’"
>(sighs in interdimensional disappointment)
>**"Every time you plant a potato, I hear the universe moan: 'This bottom again?’"
>(sighs in interdimensional disappointment)