Sitting up late with little to do, deeply immersed in a THC induced intoxication, and enjoying some intelligent company, time drifted on into the small hours of the morning, the TV set waffling on in the background not being noticed much. Slowly, with all the subtlety of an unwelcome syringe in a nightclub bathroom, the sound of Gods Word According
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Find me a party that wants to give me weed, video games, high speed internet, and a job worth having, and Ill vote for them.
Until then, Im voting for the "I wouldnt trust any of these fucks with a TV remote, let alone a country." party.
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*sigh*
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{{{Before I say any more, I would like to make 2 points of note to anyone who would dare question me: 1: 99% of Tamaki's "diverse" congregation is imported from Samoa. Point blank fucking fact. 2: Samoan families are for the most part governed and policed through its resident matriarch - the eldest surviving woman in the brood. Anyone who wants to raise issue with either statement can do so ANOTHER TIME}}}
If we surgically purge the very old and the naive from his ranks, I guarantee he goes back to being a joke in less than a year.
(great how I have to fear reprisal from the other side of the coin on the same subject huh?)
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way back when I was living in a caravan park - his words were damn near enough to drive my had into a gas oven - wish I'd had one at the time - wouldve been a damn sight warmer... anyways...
heh
the better option was the bottom quarter of a plagon of best Mothers Cellar "All Black Port"
man I miss that shit...
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