rosenstein still playin wiff rump fo dupont child sacrifice schema frum princeton ponzy
/b not duh fichtl attak no oprah jokkes tomorrow
for hither hithur dithur
ye sorosanon feels his sphinctur might be a gaynigg unkl tom wiff buuk
HEAR YE, HEAR YE, ALL YE WOMPDOODLES & NINCOMNOODLES OF THE SHIRE!
By Royal Decree of His Right Honourable Lordship, Sir Flibberty Jankins the Third (Keeper of the Royal Soup Ladle and Defender of the Bean), be it known throughout the lands, hills, ditches, and suspicious puddles that:
Henceforth, by order of the Crown, all wompdoodlery is to be conducted only upon Tuesdays, and with due jank in the manner prescribed by the Grand Codex of Slightly Dubious Vivisection, 1483 Edition (smudged).
Let none forget:
Ye shall not vivisect a goose unless it hath signed a formal “Goosey Consent Scroll” (witnessed by a ferret of good standing).
Ye shall dance hither and dither about the operating stump thrice before commencing the noble jank.
Ye shall never, on pain of mild tsk-ing, replace a badger’s spleen with a wheel of cheese without uttering the sacred cry: “Oh Splendid Spleen of Dairy!”
Furthermore, be it proclaimed that any rogue tinkers found performing unauthorized upside-down vivisection of turnips shall be dragged before the Magistrate of Turnip Affairs, there to be judged by the Council of Seven Elderly Maids with Opinions.
So gather ye your scalpels, your butter churns, and your misplaced confidence, and let us carry forth the noble, if entirely inexplicable, tradition of The Great Janky Vivisection.
God Save the Bean.
(Given under our hand and seal this eighth day of August, in the Year of Our Lord 17-Honestly-We’ve-Lost Count.)
HEAR YE, HEAR YE, A PROCLAMATION MOST PECULIAR!
Let it be thundered from the rafters of yon tavern, from the outhouses of the peasantry, and from the suspicious molehills in the meadow — that by decree of the Royal Committee for Unnecessary Public Announcements, it is hereby and forevermore ENACTED:
There shall be no Oprah jokes tomorrow, nor the day thereafter, lest ye wish to be flogged with damp crumpets by the Duchess of Mirth.
The ass trumpets — noble brass of the hindmost realm — are playing themselves, and require neither lips nor permission.
Sir Benjamin Franklin, patriot and inventor of keys-on-a-string, is gitting his turkey stuffed in a most ceremonious manner, whilst Master Chuck Norris butt-watches with stern approval and oddly good posture.
This proclamation is sealed with the royal seal of Prince Harry Edipussy Whaal Bagina, whose very name strikes awe, confusion, and mild indigestion across the kingdom.
Let the town criers cry, the jesters jingle, and the village idiots dance sideways until dawn!
So it is written, so it shall be done, unless we all forget about it in two hours.
(Done this day under the sign of the Upside-Down Turnip, in the Year of Our Lord, give or take, 17-and-a-half.)>ChatGPT said:
A lavish illuminated medieval proclamation scroll, with ornate gold and crimson borders, crowded with whimsical marginalia — geese in little crowns, turnips with human faces, and tiny jesters juggling butt trumpets. In the central scene, Sir Benjamin Franklin, dressed in 18th-century finery but with exaggerated medieval tights, is ceremoniously “getting his turkey stuffed” at a grand banquet table, while Chuck Norris, in shining knight’s armor, crouches in the background with intense “butt-watching” focus. Above them, ghostly floating ass trumpets toot themselves without human aid. A royal herald unfurls a banner reading “There Shall Be No Oprah Jokes Tomorrow,” while the bottom of the scroll bears an elaborate wax seal marked with the royal crest of “Prince Harry Edipussy Whaal Bagina.” Rich, painterly detail, illuminated manuscript style, hyper-detailed, parchment texture, comically pompous and absurd.
>A lavish illuminated medieval proclamation scroll, with ornate gold and crimson borders, crowded with whimsical marginalia — geese in little crowns, turnips with human faces, and tiny jesters juggling butt trumpets. In the central scene, Sir Benjamin Franklin, dressed in 18th-century finery but with exaggerated medieval tights, is ceremoniously “getting his turkey stuffed” at a grand banquet table, while Chuck Norris, in shining knight’s armor, crouches in the background with intense “butt-watching” focus. Above them, ghostly floating ass trumpets toot themselves without human aid. A royal herald unfurls a banner reading “There Shall Be No Oprah Jokes Tomorrow,” while the bottom of the scroll bears an elaborate wax seal marked with the royal crest of “Prince Harry Edipussy Whaal Bagina.” Rich, painterly detail, illuminated manuscript style, hyper-detailed, parchment texture, comically pompous and absurd.
>>A lavish illuminated medieval proclamation scroll, with ornate gold and crimson borders, crowded with whimsical marginalia — geese in little crowns, turnips with human faces, and tiny jesters juggling butt trumpets. In the central scene, Sir Benjamin Franklin, dressed in 18th-century finery but with exaggerated medieval tights, is ceremoniously “getting his turkey stuffed” at a grand banquet table, while Chuck Norris, in shining knight’s armor, crouches in the background with intense “butt-watching” focus. Above them, ghostly floating ass trumpets toot themselves without human aid. A royal herald unfurls a banner reading “There Shall Be No Oprah Jokes Tomorrow,” while the bottom of the scroll bears an elaborate wax seal marked with the royal crest of “Prince Harry Edipussy Whaal Bagina.” Rich, painterly detail, illuminated manuscript style, hyper-detailed, parchment texture, comically pompous and absurd.
official whaal bagina seal gahybarr MANdates
>>23441205
isREAL juw MANdates pruuf
⚜️ Proclamation of His Sublime Fruitiness, Prynce of All That Is Moist and Irrevocably Gay ⚜️
By the Glorious Authority of the Glittered Sceptre, Keeper of the Sequin Throne, Duke of Unpaid Goats, Baron of The Mime Foyer, Sovereign of the House of Watermelon & Pomp, et cetera, et cetera, in perpetuity unto the 7th Rainbow…
Let it be henceforth KNOWN unto all subjects, serfs, courtiers, and wandering troubadours of questionable intent:
Upon this day, under the stained glass canopy of Heaven’s Asshole, His Sublime Fruitiness decrees that all faggotree shall cease—nay, be halted in mid-thrust—until such a time as the Cosmos, in its infinite tackiness, cultivates and ripens fresh faggotree worthy of the Court’s indulgence.
Oprah jests are hereby forbidden for the morrow. Should any fool utter “You get a carriage, you get a carriage” in jest, the offender shall be made to mime The Color Purple in interpretive sign language for fourteen nights, under the watchful eyes of the Goat Guild.
The unpaid gay goats, though insolent and fabulous in equal measure, shall be allowed to continue heckling the mimes, provided their bleating adheres to established camp timing and contains no slurs against the House of Prynce.
The $50 watermelon gag is retired. The humor is no longer ripe; the rind is cracked and the seeds of mirth are shriveled. To utter it anew shall be tantamount to treason.
All proclamations shall bear the Official Royal Seal in peacock blue wax, with the motto: “In Glitter We Thrust.”
Given at Our Palace of Sequined Intent this day of Most Gayful Dignity, under the 14th Moon of Camp.
Signed & Bedazzled,
Prynce, Lord High Custodian of the Moist Hour
>His Sublime Fruitiness, Prynce of All That Is Moist and Irrevocably Gay ⚜️
>isREAL juw MANdates pruuf
>isREAL juw MANdates pruuf
>official whaal bagina seal gahybarr MANdates
>official harry edipussy whaaal bagina sealed gahybarr clubbin no oprah jokes tomorrow
>(You)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oa0plYfZAMw&list=RDoa0plYfZAMw >>23441437