4 Chan sometimes produces pure liquefied shit and sometimes it produces pure fucking gold.  Here’s the best story ever from the /pol board.

I was still young when the Trumpening finally happened. Suddenly full of vigor and enthusiasm, defiantly hopeful after having endured several years of diabolical sin and degeneracy. Reinvigorated and optimistic in the lead-up to what would have been Patriarch Trump’s glorious six-term presidency. But my joy would be short lived. Exactly eighty eight hours before his inauguration, Mr. Trump unexpectedly fled into some nearby woods, and was never seen again. No explanation. He simply knew something the rest of us didn’t. He had no choice.

The walls were never built, and the Mexican border-toads continued to multiply exponentially. Then the nukes fell, and the new pandemics arrived. The rampaging diversifiers continued to swarm across the civilized world, bringing a cataclysmic wave of cultural enrichment and peace to every last inch of Earth. AIDS became mandatory. Vatican City was dismantled and reconstructed using trillions of Common Core text books. Artificial womb-children were instantly dissected and reassembled at birth, fashioned into ambisexual pan-gender omni humans before being reanimated and married into polygamous otherkin sects. The children were injected with estrogen, liquified cancer, and watermelon iced tea, their trans-human brains genetically engineered to run exclusively on Windows 10 (the last operating system to ever exist). Women and men began perpetually menstruating, so we started calling them “bleeders”. Tampons and bandages were made illegal as symbols of hate speech, so the bleeders gushed into state-issued Swedish bike shorts while communicating entirely in emoticon sign language.

The universal television news network “Salon & IKEA Broadcasting Service” kept us all informed as the EU engaged in a massive space-battle, annihilating over 6 quintillion alien UFOs with kale-powered ebola lasers that they had hidden on Ceres. But it was all a lie. A giant psyop orchestrated by President Chelsea and VP Malia. They were not actually fighting extra terrestrials. Their enemy was seen as much more problematic. In reality, they were secretly exterminating the few remaining white cis-males left alive. After hiding out in the sewers, I too followed Trump’s lead, and fled innawoods. The planet was left in ruins, and smoldering death and Tumblr posts touched every last corner of the globe.

Decades passed, and memory of the previous world had all but faded. It had been several days since my last meal. I scampered between desert shantytowns, scavenging for pieces of discarded Skittles and edible panties. I had wrapped my entire body in several layers of scrap metal and identified as a Google self-driving car, so the authorities wouldn’t detain me. I was starving, but reluctant to blow my cover by heading into the center of town. I had no choice, I was on the verge of passing out. I spotted a plywood shack in the distance, a faded cardboard sign hanging above the door. I squinted in the blazing midday sun, unable to fully make it out. Something about the spray painted brass-colored block letters looked vaguely familiar. Dizzy now. I stumbled inside while clumsily bumping into the door frame. Pieces of metal rattled and dislodged, scattering across the floor. My eyesight further blurred, and my vision faded to black as I was caught by dozens of powerful arms scooping me up to safety.

When I regained consciousness I could make out ten cloaked figures, their robes made entirely out of blonde hair. Beautiful, blonde pads of manly hair. I was surrounded by glass bottles of un-fluoridated German carrot juice, chilled to perfection. A determined voice broke the silence as I was handed a drink. “We know who you are, and you’re not alone” I immediately recognized the voice. Could it be? The robust figure leaned forward, brushing away the loose pieces of metal covering my head before slowly removing his blonde hood. Before I could clearly view his face, he held up a card and muttered “Tap tap tap bing bing bong. This your card?” That voice! Mr. Trump? He must have been over 100 years old, but still as clear-minded and regal as ever. I muttered in amazement “You’re a-a-alive? What’s going on? Where am I?” There was a brief pause as the robed figures shared glances before holding aloft their cards. Cards that were identical to the one I had kept in my wallet all these years, so faded and worn. Donald tapped me on the shoulder and declared reassuringly before handing me an assault shovel. “You’re home, son. Remember, sometimes by losing a battle you find a new way to win the war. Now we finally build that wall, and win that war.”

I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes, tears of joy running down my face. All those cards, held aloft by white cis-hands. I smiled politely to the others before looking back to Chieftain Trump. His last words before we all set out will stay with me forever. “Anon… You’re hired. Mark my words, son. You are hired!” The cloaked figures began cheering and boisterously singing Twisted Sister songs as we trekked nonstop to the Mexican border, ankle-deep in toads. We began digging, and just kept on singing. “We’re not gonna take it! No, we ain’t gonna take it! We’re not gonna take it… anymore!” Trump looked on proudly, silently mouthing the lyrics.

>We’re right
>We’re free
>We’ll fight
>You’ll see

“I didn’t know this place ordered any Super Bowl tickets…heh?  Hahahaha!” 

And so goes yet another one of the thousands of human exchanges I’ve had to endure where my antagonist assumes facts not in evidence.  In this particular case a rather Costanzaish looking fellow, fully equipped with a reverse Geordi LaForge Visor haircut, abnormally apish forehead, and small squinty eyes assumed one or more of the following: (A) That I watch American Football (or as I like to call it, Handegg), (B) That I shared his opinion of the quality of game that was the Super Bowl this year, or (C) That I wished to converse with an odd looking man standing sheepishly in the waiting room of an OBGYN while I was making a delivery.

Now I know there are some people who would say I am being too judgmental of this man or that he was just trying to be nice and I should be alright with that, but truth be told it is the contraposition which I believe holds true.  Allow me to illustrate.
Let’s take the first statement that I am being too judgmental of this poor old bloke.  The line of argumentation, I suppose, would go something like the following:  Look at this guy, he’s standing in the waiting room of an OBGYN (presumably waiting for a woman he knows) and is probably feeling very uncomfortable (hence him not sitting or reading a magazine or whatever).  He sees you come in with your boxes of wares to make livery, and sensing a (at least temporary) way out of his uncomfortable situation, he seeks to perform some male bonding utilizing a subject he (and most likely his friends) hold very dear.  Stop being such a judgmental prick and just be nice to the guy.
Well argued indeed my charming interlocutor (minus your scathing ad hominem), but now please allow me to retort.  I would firstly concur that my remarks as to the man’s stature at the beginning of this piece were indeed judgmental, but those were words typed in the heat of passion.  Besides that, it is HE not I who judges.  I entered these premises strictly for business purposes and engaged in no conversation except of business matters with the staff.  However, by seeking me out with his football related folly, this man made judgments about my tastes, my sense of humor, and even my demeanor, and he did all this by projecting his own self onto me.  In assuming I would giggle at his little quip as he was, he was subconsciously projecting outward the very things he held dear onto me, a stranger, and basically hoped for the best.  For if we had known each other as friends or even acquaintances then this would have been impossible because he would have known my distaste for all things Handegg.  By not knowing me and engaging me on this subject, he was in essence using me as a vessel for an outward manifestation of the mental masturbation that was him coming up with that terrible joke.  And this makes me feel terribly unclean and violated.

Now if you were to come back at me by claiming that maybe this man was just trying to be friendly and I should lighten up on him, then to you I say this:  I was cordial with him as I am not a rude person.  But that being said, again he is assuming I want to be friendly in that situation which, again, is a manifestation of his own desires.  I was reaching the end of an eleven hour day, exhausted, and in no mood for small talk.  Under different circumstances I would love to make small talk over certain matters, and perhaps we could have even found common ground.  And if you say that he could not know my particular state at that moment, I would reply with an emphatic EXACTLY!  He doesn’t know, so why is he trying to be witty and engaging?  What’s wrong with a simple “Hi, how’re you doing today?” which I always welcome from strangers as it’s a simple, innocuous, safe way to engage those you do not know.
In short, I think it is a terrible habit I see far too often when we start going on about the things we find important without prompting and without regard for how the other person will receive it.  That’s not to say that there’s not a time and place to talk to people about things outside their particular prevue, all I’m saying is that it’s inappropriate to do so with strangers who are just trying to do their job.

F.Y.I. The stranger’s “joke” was his way of responding to a case of toilet paper I was bringing in.  Ha…ha


I want to start this post with a confession:  I like sex!  Shocking right?  Here’s another great revelation:  You probably like sex too.  And here’s one last bit of great discovery:  Pretty much everyone in the world likes sex and likes to get it as much as possible.  Now I know that the people reading this might be completely dumbfounded by these startling insights I’ve made of the human psyche, but please understand I do not simply make them willy-nilly.  I have done research on the subject!  And just to keep it interesting, I haven’t bothered with any of those boring psychology books on sexual drives or biology texts on human reproduction; no I’ve gone to a source far more entertaining and rewarding than anything academia could ever provide, I’ve gone to Craigslist.  Specifically I’ve perused the “Casual Encounters” section of the personal ads of major metropolitan areas around the world to find some of the more…interesting sexual interests of our fellow Homo Sapiens.  There are 6 in total and cover such heartwarming topics as submissive slave girls, prostitution, lady boys, voluntary sex slaves, armpits, and *sigh* diapers.  I’ve linked the ad titles to the actual articles in case something might strike your fancy and tried to keep any photos as close to SFW as possible.  With that said, behold the horror:

Training a sub female – mw4m – 26 (Midtown)

I have been using this 26 year old sub girl for awhile now. She is my complete submissive slut. I’m looking to do some more extreme training. She loves being my slut she can’t get enough. I had a couple friends tag her but nothing to wild. I’m looking for other guys down for this. Tag her help train her use her. I want a guy who’s new to being a Dom and wants to learn. I don’t mind sharing my sub but it my way I may use her tolls she passes out bit I still protect her. You gotta be clean be into every aspect if sex a high sex drive multi cummer piss when ur hard smooth body dirty nasty creative mind. You must be chill enough to grab a beer at a bar. Bit nasty enough to pick up a chick and get her back to our dungeon. I’d rather you say I’ll try it twice then make a decision if you’re it or not. Photos need

TOP and BOTTOM PRINCESS – t4m – 21

NO RUSH……………
im your ts Pamela 21 years old, 5’4 feet tall ,asian sexy ladyboy ,
petite,feminine,and fully functional ts got almost 8 inches cock size
TOP and BOTTOM here and can give you best satisFUCKtion
PURELY and SURELY clean and fresh
with a nice and good quality service

Wanting reward for my anal virginity – m4m – 34 (Saint Agnes)

Hi, I am a straight guy that needs some extra cash, and the only thing I can think of is asking for a reward for you to be the first one up my arse. Average to small with the right offer will be first choice. I cant host

Submissive maid/housekeeper needed for US couple – mw4w – 35 (USA)

Couple in their mid-30’s seeking submissive and cooperate maid/housekeeper for our home in America.The job involves date to day housekeeping such as cleaning, laundery, grossery shopping etc. 6 days a week.

We are looking for a black girl to work for us for 1 year on an au-pair visa.

No prior experience required.

The salary is 1500 $ a month, all living expenses covered.

The applicant must be STD free and willing to sexually submit and obey both Lady & Lord of the house.

This is a serious posting. – if you are not able to identify yourself on phone and/or webcam, do not bother writing.

Once we have found the right applicants, we will travel to visit in order to meet the person face to face.

Contact us for more information and please attach photo to apply.

Sweat and armpit fetishist – m4w – 29 (santa clara)

We meet after you’ve had a sweaty gym workout/run, whatever activity causes you to be drenched in sweat. We can meet at my place or yours. You expose your sweet sweaty armpits exuding your musky, womanly scent. I take it in, worship it, kiss it, lick it clean for you. I’m willing to lick and clean your entire sweaty body for you. Think of it as a “tongue bath”, maybe even more if you’re up for it: your call entirely how far this goes.Kinky guy here, absolutely fetish friendly. Would love to hear about and entertain any kinky fetishes you have as well! Chubby/BBW a plus. Hairy a double plus!!

Diaper Bitch – m4m – 27 (You host)

I am a diaper boy looking to have some fun. I need to learn to suck cock and take it up the ass, must play safe. I will come over, strip to my diaper or diaper and dress and kneel before you and the rest is up to you. You can teach me to suck cock like a good bitch or pull my diaper down and fuck my ass. Also can cross dress if you want

The top-secret “headquarters”

Remember way back in the early 2000’s when 419 scams were all the rage?  In case you don’t recall (or weren’t around) the 419 scams were a bunch of Nigerian email scams aimed at bilking personal information out of the elderly and naive in return for the promise of extraordinary amounts of cash.  Most people saw these scams for what they were, but there were a few casualties in the process.  As of this post, the kingpin of the scam is on trial and scammers have moved on to other techniques such as using social media to con the non-savvy online denizens out of their hard earned money.  Being as I am a sucker for nostalgia, I present two later emails I received in 2011.  They are of different origins, but they definitely retain the spirit (and horrendous grammar) of the originals.




A letter from me to you. Mrs. Danielle Wellington, 75yrs old from Switzerland. You might be wondering where I got your contacts from but I have really taken my time in searching thoroughly. You came into my mind has the lord has directed me to and am willing to do so. I have noticed that you are God fearing, courageous, fulfilling and ambitious in life. I want you to know that you have been the chosen one and please, try and do my will because each of my words or statements must not go unfulfilled reaching the unprivileged, orphanages and the needy as you are blessed.

Dear Beloved One, I am the above named person but now undergoing medical treatment in Western Africa. I am married to Mr. Luka Wellington, who worked as a world contractor for over a decade before he died. We were married for fifteen years without a child. He died after a brief illness that lasted for two weeks. Before his death he made a vow to use his wealth for the down troddenand the less privileged in the society. Since his death I decided not to re-marry or get a child outside my matrimonial home. When my late husband was alive he deposited the sum of ($12,000,000.00 millions us dollars) with a Vault with a bank in Western Africa. Presently, this money is still there.

Recently, my Doctor told me that I would not last for the next three months due to cancer problem. Though what disturbs me most is my stroke. Having known my condition I decided to donate this fund to an individual or better still a God fearing person who will utilize this money the way I am going to instruct here in. I want an individual that will use this to fund and provide succor I understand that blessed is the hand that giveth. I took this decision because I do not have any child and relatives.

I do not want my husband’s hard earned money to be misused or spent in the manner in which my late husband did not specify. I do not want a situation where this money will be used in an ungodly manner,hence the reason for taking this bold decision. I am not afraid of death hence I know where I am going.

I know that I am going to be in the bosom of the Almighty. With God all things are possible. My happiness is that I lived a life worthy of emulation. Whosoever that wants to serve the Almighty must serve him with all his heart and mind and soul and also in truth. Please always be prayerful all through your life.

Please assure me that you will act according to my specification herein. Lastly i want you to also reply me with some vital information of yours such as:

Full Name:


State and Zip Code:


phone number:

occupation etc……

Hoping to hear from you.

Thank you and May the Almighty bless you.

Yours sincerely,

Mrs. Danielle Wellington





















Are you ready for some fabulous football?

I upset one of my fellow students a while back in grad school.  I was on the elevator and replied to his query about who would win the Superbowl with something along the lines of “Huh, what? Oh, I don’t even know or care. Football is fucking ridiculous and I can’t stand it.” Immediately I saw that I hurt this young fellow’s spirits, so I tried to cheer him up by telling him “I bet the Steelers will win.They have Ben Rothlesburger and he loves to plow chicks. That’s as good of a reason as any to root for a team.” However, contrary to this cheering him up, the ever-changing expression on his face would seem to indicate otherwise. By the time the elevator reached the lobby I was not entirely sure if this soon to be productive member of society wanted to strike me or bow his head in shame.  Matters may have been complicated further by my asking him for a cigarette, but I digress.  I feel that this episode provides a poignant example of the inherent dangers associated with indoctrinating our children with such a strong belief structure concerning a game.  Games are meant to be fun filled activities designed to teach children concepts such as teamwork, hard work, and sportsmanship.  However, this young prodigy’s overly emotional response to my own displeasure regarding his “game of choice” as it were suggests that he just may be taking the whole situation a bit too seriously; and from this I would further extrapolate that since this man of the world was a wee lad, he most likely was being reinforced with the utter importance involved with the game itself, and the seriousness involved in being a fan of it.  This leads me to the following question:  What if this young man’s father (or whomever instilled this deep-seated desire within him) had instead stressed the importance of reading and learning with the same vivacity?  It seems that with this fellow’s drive and determination, he could have been a scholar by this point; possibly making great contributions to whichever field struck his fancy.  To my mind, this would be a far richer and more fulfilling experience than simply getting overly emotional on an elevator.  Aw well,  C’est la vie.

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