<The hopes and dreams of anons
>Maybe they can come to the Anon party/barbecue( after the storm) that we have discussed before
>( will have a room for autistic anons who do not like crowds, kek)
>Imagine 100k autists all trying to have a bbq together…
>Imagine the reeeeee
<Following the chain…Reee the first
>I believe the number of actual anons who work on the boards is def under 5k . Any given time there is only around 100 to 200 or so people on( and several of those are shills). Some anons have been on all day or long shifts. Also some anons may only work on weekends, depending on their work schedule.
>You add in Q people on twitter then you prob have 100k.
>When talking about barbecue party before, it was for anons who work on Q research, kek >Not twitterfags who dont lurk here and just go by Q posts from qanon.pub or other sources.
And anons have spun off from there, where who knows, and truly (accept for each individual anon's own pet thang) who gives a fuck.
The real interesting dynamic, that one can really feel deep within ones bones, when in such a habbitat, is the seemingly pleasant and almost friendly snorts of anons, as the morning light breaks across the savanah, rapidly curdling, like cheap, day old cream kept warm by the fire all night; the sour waft of curdled butter milk assaulting the sinuses of an aethsmatic anon, while microwave chimes ding to all that chicken tendies have reached an appropriate temperature.
Alas, sensitive sinuses, close quarters, curdled cream, and several large anons, having secured rather more than a fair share of tendies, pontificating about the make, manufacturer, size, fuel source, smoking capacity, and aerodymanics of the grill required for the festivities, became oblivious to the increasing agitation of smaller yet fiestier anons.
Anons, armed with recipe books, meat skewers, charcoal accelerant, beer cans, matches, compressed flamable gas, 120/240V AC electrical outlets, and good old fashioned determination, erected battle lines that the Kaiser could only dream of. Watching anons turn Chlorine Bleach into back yard trench weapons, bathroom supplies like isopropyl alcohol and hydrogen peroxide into rocket propelled artillery…the insanity.
Fortunately for the neighborhood, as the weapons race rapidly sped towards heavy water experimentation, and bicycle powered Uranium238 centrifuging, tendies, drinks, weed, booze, beer, and literal tonnes of snack chips arrived. Hostilities averted as if they had never existed with anons discussing war wounds, medical procedures that repaired damage, novel ways to use 3Ft sewer pipe as a long range canon barrel for large barrel charges, and the fucking new fags logging onto half/pol.
It could happen