>you larped a drumpf
>
>now you mad
>
>you mad you homo'd
>
>what's new homo
TLDR: OPPENHEIMER IS A FAGGOT CROSS DRESSER WITH A "GOD" COMPLEX
WE ALL HOPE THE GUBERMENT CAN SAVE US FROM DANIELFAGGOT'S UNREQUITED CLOSET HOMO FOR CHEEZUS
GEHYTRIOT DRUMPF LARPER #BUTTJOOS
WHO WOULD OF THUNK OF A TRIBUTE TO BAALZEBUBS TOWER OF BABEL IN THESE TRYING TIMES OF LUCIFERIAN SHEKELS GETTING BLAMED ON BAPHOMET
ERHMAHGURD
CORONAHOMO'D HAS SHUT DOWN OSGILIATH
ERHMAHGURD
TEH BLACK SPEECH OF TEH MORODOR
WHAT IF IVANKA IS A DANIELFAGGOT ?
NOW ALL WE HAVE TO DO IS GET TEH DANIELFAGGOT CARPENTER MARRIED TO TEH WALRUSJEW JOSH
IF ONLY WOULD GET THE DANIELFAGGOT CARPENTER AND TEH WALRUSJEW JOSH TO TOUCH TEHY LIL HOBBIT PECKERS IN HOLY MATRIMONY FOR SOME R.C. ROSENKRUTX ALCHEMICAL GAYESTSHOTGUNWEDDING #EVER
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A MUHJOOS SHILL AND A DANIELFAGGOT IS QUITE SIMPLE.
THE DANIELFAGGOT CHOOSE TO LARP YOUR DRUMPFS
MAYBE WE SHOULD JUST SHOOT THEM HUH
>>Need some help finding a good VPN service?
PRIVATETUNNEL IS COMPED AS FUCK BY HUMAN TRAFFICKERS
what if you funneled all the pensive homo into some art or a new hobby?
gosh
what is this jew nonsense that doxx's me and lies for shekels
FEAR
by: Rudyard Kipling
RE Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry,
Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer,
Through the Jungle very softly flits a Shadow and a sigh–
He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!
Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade,
And the whisper spreads and widens far and near;
And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now–
He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!
Ere the Moon has climbed the mountain, ere the rocks are ribbed with light,
When the downward-dipping tails are dank and drear;
Comes a breathing hard behind thee, snuffle-snuffle through the night–
It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!
On thy knees and draw the bow, bid the shrilling arrow go;
In the empty mocking thicket plunge the spear;
But thy hands are loosed and weak, and the blood has left thy cheek–
It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!
When the heat-cloud sucks the tempest, when the silvered pine trees fall,
When the blinding, blaring rain-squalls lash and veer;
Through the trumpets of the thunder rings a voice more loud than all–
It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!
Now the spates are banked and deep; now the footless boulders leap;
Now the lightning shows each littlest leaf-rib clear;
But thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against thy side
Hammers: Fear, O Little Hunter–this is Fear!