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Tell An Outrageous Lie About The User Above You


Notso
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Alan's all into the canal for making such banal accusations of contreaneal spaces and if the conch is to be believed, the living parts of a dead immortal is actually used in-place of warp drive thrusters, and thus becoming pancaked into gravitous mementos of momentum.

Jamie didn't try to look dumb from posting nonsense.

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RevivedEdgeLord understands the theoretical concept of an event horizon stretching obtuse particles causing immense amounts of static friction in a fashion similar to the way a resonance cascade is able to replicate the isotope combustion mechanic found in conventional twin ion engines while also being able to unanimously bypass it's half-life despite the severe lack of presence of negative ions within it's atomic structure that would normally be a profound prerequisite were such a spontaneous energetic fusion of matter to ever occur within the limited array of technological instruments at our disposal to produce and reproduce such volatile but highly intriguing results to further our already stupendous advances in astrology, rocket science, engineering, and of course contemporary theoretical physics and sciences.

 

What a smart fellow, I tip my fedora to you my good Lord of Edge.

 

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Sovamorne went down in an airplane, got fried getting suntanned, fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand, met a shark underwater, fell and no one caught him, dried up in the desert, drowned in a hot tub, danced to death at an east side night club and he is still DYING to understand why women go in groups to the bathroom

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RevivedEdgeLord can feel the rage born from these run on sentences boiling within him, unaware that giving into his base anger will make him stronger, but he does not, for he his driven by a misguided sense of morality not to give into the monster within, knowing that it takes monsters to kill monsters he does not wish to become one himself in the process due to his troubled past in the ricefields that taught him how to fend for himself, but at a cost, the cost of a piece of his humanity, having had to fight, bleed and kill just to get his next grain of nourishing rice to give him enough strength to push him just a little further each day, enough to cross the threshold from hunted into hunter, he knows deep down that killing is not just a means of survival for him, no it is his life, he cannot live without crushing his enemies, seeing them driven before him, and hearing the lamentation of their women, down inside of him he knows that this is what drives him, to hear the screams of his victims as they die in pain while he laughs, knowing that he has won, he has taken another life, and is already thinking about who shall be his next sacrificial lamb, it is all he has ever known since he was sent into the jungles of Liberia at the age of 7, armed with nothing but a combat knife, told by his mentor to kill the first person he sees, with nothing but gunpowder for food and blood as his motivation, it wasn't easy for him at first but soon he grew to enjoy the senseless murder of farmers, merchants, and passerby as he pounced on them from the jungle brush like a tiger, his victims never having even the slightest chance of escape or opportunity for retaliation, not before he drove his blade deep into their necks and watched as their lifeblood drained from the gaping wound, wide eyed and vicious, satisfied to see the vitality of his kill ebb away before him as he watched their souls dissipate from their iris's, completely content with mindless murder being his meta having known no other way to survive or entertain himself, it wouldn't be until many years later that he could finally control his violent nature enough to walk among normal people, but knowing that deep inside, in the part of him where the jungle leaves of Liberia are still stained red with blood, the war still rages within,  and he knows not for how long his animalistic cruelty can be kept under lock and key before it bursts from it's cage, hungry for blood and eager to kill en masse again.

 

 

Looking back, wow, that is really edgy, even for you EdgeLord, here's a bandage in case you cut yourself on that edginess.

 

elastic-bandage-travel-400x400.jpg

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RevivedEdgeLord can feel the rage born from these run on sentences boiling within him, unaware that giving into his base anger will make him stronger, but he does not, for he his driven by a misguided sense of morality not to give into the monster within, knowing that it takes monsters to kill monsters he does not wish to become one himself in the process due to his troubled past in the ricefields that taught him how to fend for himself, but at a cost, the cost of a piece of his humanity, having had to fight, bleed and kill just to get his next grain of nourishing rice to give him enough strength to push him just a little further each day, enough to cross the threshold from hunted into hunter, he knows deep down that killing is not just a means of survival for him, no it is his life, he cannot live without crushing his enemies, seeing them driven before him, and hearing the lamentation of their women, down inside of him he knows that this is what drives him, to hear the screams of his victims as they die in pain while he laughs, knowing that he has won, he has taken another life, and is already thinking about who shall be his next sacrificial lamb, it is all he has ever known since he was sent into the jungles of Liberia at the age of 7, armed with nothing but a combat knife, told by his mentor to kill the first person he sees, with nothing but gunpowder for food and blood as his motivation, it wasn't easy for him at first but soon he grew to enjoy the senseless murder of farmers, merchants, and passerby as he pounced on them from the jungle brush like a tiger, his victims never having even the slightest chance of escape or opportunity for retaliation, not before he drove his blade deep into their necks and watched as their lifeblood drained from the gaping wound, wide eyed and vicious, satisfied to see the vitality of his kill ebb away before him as he watched their souls dissipate from their iris's, completely content with mindless murder being his meta having known no other way to survive or entertain himself, it wouldn't be until many years later that he could finally control his violent nature enough to walk among normal people, but knowing that deep inside, in the part of him where the jungle leaves of Liberia are still stained red with blood, the war still rages within,  and he knows not for how long his animalistic cruelty can be kept under lock and key before it bursts from it's cage, hungry for blood and eager to kill en masse again.

 

 

Looking back, wow, that is really edgy, even for you EdgeLord, here's a bandage in case you cut yourself on that edginess.

 

elastic-bandage-travel-400x400.jpg

Good job. No really, nice try, said Sovamorne.
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