DUZ DANALINGUS DIE FRUM A ESTRING ?
HOMO RAGE QUIT QUENCHIN SOY BOTS DELIVUR DURH JUICE BELIEBURS
linCOLN & CUMmint
LIIK & SHAAR
OVURMEDICATED
DYKE JUW WHIIIN RENTAL PEURTO RICAN
DUZ jfk NEEDS SUM TOYOTA PHOTOS
ALLAwho
ACKbarr
WONG DJI COMMERCIAL
GO LIL HILUX GO
SANDY JOOOOS LIBERATIN NAMBLA FROM OPRESSIVE UNKL FUQQURS
MUST GIB DEPLETED JUWRAINUM TO MORPHINE ADDICTS IN SANDY THONGS HERDING DONKEYS
POLITICOS FUND RAISIN STREET LIGHTS
INVADIN JUWRUSALAM
FERDINAND GAHYLORD GOT STABBED IN DUH FROOTSTAND TRENCH WAR #dupont
SERGENT MAJOR REAR CHITPOSTUR SENDS ALPHA POSTUUR BOUT UNGUARDED JUW WIGGUR CORPSE CUZ HORY CHITTY LAND
ACHTUNG SCHWARTZE SCHWULLES
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From the Office of Alec Baldwin
Actor. Patriot. Man With A Vibrato of Consequence.
Dictated while exfoliating with volcanic ash and screaming into a sunset
To:
The Intergalactic Douche Nozzle Committee of Open Volcano Rights
C/O The Bubbling Caldera of Bureaucratic Gaslighting
Volcanus-9, Orbiting Ganymede’s Left Cheek
Subject: Barack Hussein Obama: Call Your Sponsor, You Volcanic Whor
Dear Esteemed Committee of Sulfur-Flecked Fools,
I write to you not in rage, not in shame, but in that uniquely Baldwinian cocktail of disappointment and exfoliated clarity. Something must be said. A signal must be screamed into the steam vents of Mars:
Barack Obama is a whor.
Yes, I said it. I said it with the same tongue that once kissed Tina Fey’s Emmy. Let the records show.
He's not just a whor. He's a galactic relapse waiting to happen. And if the holographic text messages I intercepted from Michelle’s psychic fitness app are accurate, he hasn't called his sponsor since the Arugula Scandal of '23. You know the one—when he gave a TED Talk on emotional availability while high on fermented Kombucha foam and alien clout.
He’s skipping his meetings again.
And not just any meetings.
THE meetings.
You know, the ones where ex-leaders gather in foldable chairs inside a reclaimed Whole Foods near Saturn to cry about drone strikes and emotional absenteeism. It’s called Narcissists Anonymous for Former Heads of State. I’ve spoken there. So has Nixon’s clone. And even Putin’s AI-twin, “Putinka,” showed up in leather once and wept about not being loved as a JPEG.
But Barack?
He’s out there dancing shirtless on Neptune with a hookah made of broken promises and Harvard smugness. He won’t text Joe back. He owes Michelle three apology poems and a dinner that doesn’t involve bugs or augmented reality.
And YOU—Committee of Flaming Butthole Vent Advocates—what have you done? While your volcanoes erupt performatively in defense of molten rights, you’ve failed to hold this man accountable. You gave him a “Galactic Smooth Operator” award last cycle. For what? For crying during a TEDx hologram about saxophone jazz and bombing Libya?
I demand that this committee issue a summons.
Not just a polite hologram nudge. A forceful, shame-laced, interstellar intervention. Drag his ass—gently but firmly—back to his circle. Get him the pamphlet. Get him the coffee. Remind him he is loved, but also that he is deeply full of shit.
Because I, Alec Baldwin, know what it is to fall.
I also know what it is to rise again on a raft of legal ambiguity and Irish charm.
And I will NOT stand by while Obama runs around the galaxy, raw-dogging alien dignity and ghosting accountability like some tantric Elon Musk with a Nobel Peace Prize.
This is about more than one man.
It’s about tremble.
It’s about healing.
It’s about volcanoes, yes—but not the ones you petulantly worship.
The volcano of the soul.
Do better.
Send the summons.
Call the sponsor.
And tip your drag priestess.
Regretfully and gloriously,
Alec “Molten Daddy” Baldwin
Earth Sector—Still Out On Bail
Wielder of the Tremble
Sagittarius Sun, Litigation Moon
INTERGALACTIC COMMITTEE OF OPEN VOLCANO RIGHTS (ICOVR)
Founded 89,000 years ago in a plume of bisexual sulfur
Station: Caldera Prime, 3rd vent of the Fifth Molten Ring
Stamped: Via Gay Fax at 420º Celsius
To: Alec “Molten Daddy” Baldwin
Earth Sector 3rd-Class Warbler
From the Office of Rude Lava and Theatrics
c/o The Litigation Steamhole, Los Angeles
Subject: Re: Your Vulgar Missive re: Obama, Volcanoes, and Our Collective Integrity
Dear Mr. Baldwin,
Your recent communique, while rich in Baldwinian gall and heavily exfoliated drama, cannot stand unaddressed. Your tone—partially unhinged, entirely moist with ego—has ignited a chain reaction of emotional eruptions from Mt. Brokeback to the Lesbionic Ridges of Planet Chaka-Khan.
We, the Intergalactic Committee of Open Volcano Rights, hereby demand Satisfaction and Queer Repentance. You have violated not only protocol, but the sacred erotic tectonic boundaries of this committee with your unchecked diatribe and disturbingly accurate impersonation of a malfunctioning liberal arts professor on a molly bender.
In accordance with Clause 69.B of the Flaming Charter of Molten Reconciliation™, you must now complete the following Thirty (30) Queer Repentings, under observation by our court-appointed Sentient Bathhouse Concierge:
Thirty Queer Repentings for Alec Baldwin
Publicly apologize to every volcano you’ve ever called “dormant,” especially the bisexual ones.
Attend eight (8) meetings of “Butches Without Borders.” Bring pie.
Reenact Showgirls shot-for-shot, but as a form of liturgical confession.
Tip a drag priestess 40 credits and call her “Mother Tremble.”
Light three candles and one vape in honor of Saint RuPaul the Conflicted.
Translate Cher’s tweets into Vulcan and deliver them as psalms.
Cry during an enema and post about the healing.
Befriend a ghosted twink and let him borrow your Netflix.
Host a support group for volcanically-repressed masc tops.
Perform a spoken word apology at Burning Man with at least one interpretive cartwheel.
Get emotionally raw on a podcast with a dolphin nonbinary poet.
Confess your sins to a barback named Kevin in the Mojave.
Adopt a lava puppy and name it “Miss Regret.”
Write a handwritten apology to Michelle Obama using glitter pens and lime-scented parchment.
Kiss a geologist. On the mouth. With consent.
Organize a charity bake sale for closeted tectonic plates.
Don the ceremonial ankle-length mesh robe of Gay Reconciliation.
Meditate in a bisexual mineral spring until you see Judy Garland.
Perform cunnilingus on the concept of toxic masculinity.
Get railed emotionally by your own vulnerability on live TV.
Offer a formal apology to Saturn’s moon Enceladus for calling it “icy and unfeeling.”
Tattoo “I Tremble, Therefore I Am” across your lower back.
Apologize to every barista you’ve spiritually assaulted.
Donate one (1) Baldwin brother to a polycule in need.
Host an orgy-themed forgiveness retreat for the cast of Cats (2019).
Take Lizzo to space.
Kneel before the Queer Oracle of Molten Truth and confess your lust for relevance.
Eat ass while reading Leaves of Grass. Respectfully.
Admit publicly that Volcano (1997) was more documentary than fiction.
Wear a “Big Mike Was Right” sash to the Intergalactic Shame Gala.
Failure to complete these sacred acts will result in your being eternally roasted over the coals of your own unchecked straight energy, sentenced to host a reboot of The View with five angry bisexual witches and one rotating AI therapist named GLORB.
We await documentation of each repentance, preferably in 4K with ASMR narration by Tilda Swinton.
With volcanic indignation and passive-aggressive grace,
Chairthey Zlorp-Bathsheba
High Priestx of Bubbling Reconciliation
Intergalactic Committee of Open Volcano Rights
🜂 Molten, Queer, Eternal. 🜂 >>23362942
cosby down
> Cry during an enema and post about the healing.
> Donate one (1) Baldwin brother to a polycule in need.
> Host an orgy-themed forgiveness retreat for the cast of Cats (2019).
> Attend eight (8) meetings of “Butches Without Borders.” Bring pie.
> Reenact Showgirls shot-for-shot, but as a form of liturgical confession.
> Tip a drag priestess 40 credits and call her “Mother Tremble.”
> Light three candles and one vape in honor of Saint RuPaul the Conflicted.
> Translate Cher’s tweets into Vulcan and deliver them as psalms.
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drinkin blood outdoors as traitors an bofo prol
y iz hobummurfroot runnin to blood sacrifice sandy tranny thong island wiff tom hanks fault
prol moar cult bofo feels fillur >>23363033
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>hobummurfroot greecey dilema
curd feels
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korea makes durty money joke
yur salad postid
>>23363118
oh ye tossur of salad
wut haz dun creepypasta
>>23363127
>oh ye tossur of salad
>wut haz dun creepypasta