When I was 17 I dated this ex-con on and off for a few months. He was very adamant about only doing anal, and upon further reflection, i’m convinced the complex that instilled within my sexually retarted adolescent brain is the sole reason I fucked up that case.
Sure, but. Credit where it’s due. Dust to dust. Say what you want about national security, but— You know.
It’s an honestly impressive feat for an authority to drastically affect the temperature of a nation in what has been more or less a life time.
You get in front of a camera, you’re bob fosse and every show-girl he ever directed.
Getting limp-dicked for the false-pleasures of the past is something I fingered the younger demographic for.
Some jack ass in press at DoD is pushing abnormally hard to make me national security’s new uncle sam so everyone can get a new round of aspirational skells to dump paperwork, and liability, and conspiracy on. Because immigration’s done fine rounding up
the predication that I’d be complicit in this for any reason, but instead the undercurrent of the intent to make me a political agent via podcast interviews, and gauche photoshoot advertisement, and sex appeal aimed at suboptimal, if not lamentable demographic’s.
ERT make’s 50 year’s ago look like the stone age. Would’ve loved to hound back then. Make a desk jockey handle the five slips of paper for every case and retire early.
Still a pretty weak pipe dream for the spank bank, though. Considering reality.





