And here we all are at Twitter. Or, as I call it, these days, "oh what the fuck has he said now??"
About this card: industrialist fat catsI'd protest this holiday. And on the burning barricades I'd chant at police and hurl Molotovs. And then? I'd fall beneath the bejeweled jackboots of St. Valentines Day thugs, wielding their guilt trips and demanding their chocolate boxes and heart-shaped cards. So if anyone needs me I'll be at the florists. Muttering to myself.
RT @mental_floss: Elva Zona Heaster: The Ghost Who Helped Solve Her Own Murder — https://t.co/xFcQtepVUv https://t.co/GReBjBersH
I like to reminisce about the days when we could talk about the 1%. These days, we DREAM of that sort of wealth distribution...
Puzzlingly, the one thing Google has never learned about me is that I block, disable and ignore all advertisements.