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August 2018

Classic

I used to be a real ad
More Classic Copypastas

NaM octopus

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣵⠟⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⡀⠄⠄⠙⢾⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢸⡏⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣶⣿⣿⣇⡀⠄⠄⠩⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠋⠄⠄⠄⠄⠠⠭⣿⣿⣿⣯⠭⣄⠄⠄⠄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣐⣀⡘⠹⣿⣐⣤⣼⡄⠈⠄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠄⠄⠄⠰⣿⣿⠃⢨⣏⣻⣿⣿⡇⠄⠄⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⠄⡄⣿⠛⠄⠠⢥⠛⢿⣿⡇⢼⣣⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⣣⡶⠬⡛⠛⠃⠙⠉⠄⡀⣤⣳⣶⢘⡡⠴⣾⣶⡦⠬⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠄⠄⣠⡄⠄⠄⣀⣤⡶⠶⣶⣦⢤⣿⣿⢷⠃⡀⠄⠄⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠈⠙⠻⢾⢿⣬⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠉⠉⠁⠄⠈⠙⢷⡄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⠄⠄⠁⠈⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⣷⣶⣄⢂⠄⠄⠄⣼⠇ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣀⣴⡿⠟⢫⣿⡟⠞⣿⣿⡇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⠻⣷⣍⠛⠛⠉⠄ ⠄⠄⣀⣀⣠⣠⣾⣟⣉⣤⣶⡿⠋⠄⠄⠘⢿⣷⣄⣀⣀⣀⡀⠄⠘⢿⣆⠄⠄⠄ ⢀⣾⠛⢛⡋⠉⠉⠉⠋⠉⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⢷⣾⡉⠄⠄⠄ ⠘⢿⣤⡟⠁⠄⠐⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡴⠄⠁⢻⣷⠄⠄⠄ ⢐⢀⠟⠒⠘⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢳⣄⣠⡾⠃⠄⠄⠄ ⠈⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⠉⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
July 2019

Classic

I sexually identify as an Attack Helicopter

I sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People say to me that a person being a helicopter is Impossible and I'm *** retarded but I don't care, I'm beautiful. I'm having a plastic surgeon install rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles on my body. From now on I want you guys to call me "Apache" and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can't accept me you're a heliphobe and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.
November 2014

Classic

I sexually Identify as

When spam, my text automatically go to the smallest size

twitchquotes: ʷʰᵉᶰ ˢᵖᵃᵐ, ᵐʸ ᵗᵉˣᵗ ᵃᵘᵗᵒᵐᵃᵗᶦᶜᵃᶫᶫʸ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵐᵃᶫᶫᵉˢᵗ ˢᶦᶻᵉ⋅ ᶦ ᶜᵃᶰ ᵐᵃˣᶦᵐᶦᶻᵉ ˢᵖᵃᵐ ᵖᵉʳ ᵖᶦˣᵉᶫ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶦᶰᶜʳᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᶦᶠᶠᶦᶜᵘᶫᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ˢᵃᶦᵈ ˢᵖᵃᵐ ᶜᵃᵘˢᶦᶰᵍ ᶠʳᵘˢᵗʳᵃᵗᶦᵒᶰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᶦᵉʷᵉʳ⋅ ᵃᶫᶫ ᵇᵉᶜᵒᵐᶦᶰᵍ ᵐᵃˣᶦᵐᵘᵐ ᵉᶠᶠᶦᶜᶦᵉᶰᶜʸ
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November 2014

Classic

Natalie Portman is the reason I work out

Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink. "Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave. Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette. "Got a spare?" she asks. "What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles. "Conversation with me, duh." I laugh. "What's so funny?" she protests. "Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?" "You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter. "What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask. "Teaching, I think." "And if I was your student, what would I be learning?" "Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?" "Bermuda," I say. "Oh wow. That's lovely." "It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking." "What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires. "I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
January 2021

Classic

Why is six afraid of seven? Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam

Why is six afraid of seven? Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. He can seldom close his eyes without opening them again at fear of Charlies lurking in the jungle trees. Not that you could ever see the bastards, mind you. They were swift, and they knew their way around the jungle like nothing else. He remembers the looks on the boys' faces as he walked into that village and... oh, Jesus. The memories seldom left him, either. Sometimes he'd reminisce - even hear - Tex's southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes like nothing else. He always kept a pack of Lucky's with him. The boys are gone, now. He knows that; it's just that he forgets, sometimes. And, every now and then, the way that seven looks at him with avid concern in his eyes... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. Makes him feel like he's back there... in the jungle.
August 2021

Classic

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