Loken
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Kosh, you have no right; this is spam, and therefore, nothing is true, everything is permitted.
And there's no need to impose elven totalitarianism. 66% of the popular content in this section is elves; racism is evil.
...but honestly, I don't care. Do whatever you want. After all, who am I? An aggressive, simple country boy who, contrary to popular belief, doesn't live in a cottage?
Who else, if not you, should rise above ordinary mortals? That's right, there are no other candidates. Well, except for an archlich or a manticore. But they haven't even gotten their passports yet. A champion of power without a passport – that's a joke.
However, when you realize that everything you say will be used against you in a banana republic, where I've already had the pleasure of serving time, it's upsetting. Or when you feel that words are losing their meaning and are drowned out by the voice of a good comrade, a champion of purity against veiled profanity, you start to view the person differently.
You gradually become imbued with Tam's ideas about the absolute dominance of the state. But if a "man with sloping shoulders," as our Chosen One is called by our anarchist friend, does this for global power and money, then what is it all for? Will it bring happiness? Yes, some people need so little to be happy in life. And I don't judge them; I envy them.
And it's so funny, it's all just trivial, but somehow it's annoying. A little annoying. Just a bit. Well, yes, yes, I'll go back to my cottage. I still need to walk the bear and give it some moonshine. Maybe that will bring it some pleasure. Oh, me. I worry about silly things. But what can I do? My mentality desperately resists. I want to do at least something, don't I? To contribute something to the world. Great deeds begin with trivial things, right? Like demonetization or circumcision?
It can definitely be noted that kittens support asocialism in their heads. Kittens? I meant catenki. It's a heavy song, but somehow it fits perfectly into this whole day, from my point of view, from my chair, from my facet of the poisonous cup. You know, those faceted cups, they pour wine into them, and then add poison to poison the king. Sometimes they mix gold with copper to pocket some of it and then sell it on the black market. Don't you find that funny? That someone spared gold for the cup of fate and sold it? Could it have saved someone's life? Or did it go to vodka? Or to cocaine? Or maybe to help the poor.
Isn't it funny that I'm sitting here, doing Tzeentch knows what, and writing all sorts of nonsense? And you're probably reading it? Nevertheless, it seems logical to me – to ramble if I'm in the mood. Maybe I should write a story? But I'm already writing one. I'll have to write two at once – it's sad, but it's a fact. Come on, representatives of the Inquisition, inspire me. Just inspire me with some theses, not by deleting everything I've written.
...and yet, all I dreamed of when I imagined myself as a moderator was to delete a link once and write "censored by Ordo Linkus." It's a rather ambitious dream, don't you think? I don't think so.
And there's no need to impose elven totalitarianism. 66% of the popular content in this section is elves; racism is evil.
...but honestly, I don't care. Do whatever you want. After all, who am I? An aggressive, simple country boy who, contrary to popular belief, doesn't live in a cottage?
Who else, if not you, should rise above ordinary mortals? That's right, there are no other candidates. Well, except for an archlich or a manticore. But they haven't even gotten their passports yet. A champion of power without a passport – that's a joke.
However, when you realize that everything you say will be used against you in a banana republic, where I've already had the pleasure of serving time, it's upsetting. Or when you feel that words are losing their meaning and are drowned out by the voice of a good comrade, a champion of purity against veiled profanity, you start to view the person differently.
You gradually become imbued with Tam's ideas about the absolute dominance of the state. But if a "man with sloping shoulders," as our Chosen One is called by our anarchist friend, does this for global power and money, then what is it all for? Will it bring happiness? Yes, some people need so little to be happy in life. And I don't judge them; I envy them.
And it's so funny, it's all just trivial, but somehow it's annoying. A little annoying. Just a bit. Well, yes, yes, I'll go back to my cottage. I still need to walk the bear and give it some moonshine. Maybe that will bring it some pleasure. Oh, me. I worry about silly things. But what can I do? My mentality desperately resists. I want to do at least something, don't I? To contribute something to the world. Great deeds begin with trivial things, right? Like demonetization or circumcision?
It can definitely be noted that kittens support asocialism in their heads. Kittens? I meant catenki. It's a heavy song, but somehow it fits perfectly into this whole day, from my point of view, from my chair, from my facet of the poisonous cup. You know, those faceted cups, they pour wine into them, and then add poison to poison the king. Sometimes they mix gold with copper to pocket some of it and then sell it on the black market. Don't you find that funny? That someone spared gold for the cup of fate and sold it? Could it have saved someone's life? Or did it go to vodka? Or to cocaine? Or maybe to help the poor.
Isn't it funny that I'm sitting here, doing Tzeentch knows what, and writing all sorts of nonsense? And you're probably reading it? Nevertheless, it seems logical to me – to ramble if I'm in the mood. Maybe I should write a story? But I'm already writing one. I'll have to write two at once – it's sad, but it's a fact. Come on, representatives of the Inquisition, inspire me. Just inspire me with some theses, not by deleting everything I've written.
...and yet, all I dreamed of when I imagined myself as a moderator was to delete a link once and write "censored by Ordo Linkus." It's a rather ambitious dream, don't you think? I don't think so.
Первый, кто был забанен за Правду.