Flying, and travel in general, is stressful. And want to know one of the best stress relievers? That's right, masturbation. So what if a person wants to relieve some of that tension by spanking the monkey or flicking the bean? There's nothing wrong with paddling the pink canoe or Jackin' the beanstalk. It's totally natural to give yourself a nice little under the pants handshake. We all need to visit the purple headed soldier from time to time. It's not hurting anyone so if it's not your forte, just put on your headphones and ignore the man next to you playing a solo on his skin flute. Society should be way more accepting of masturbation on airplanes.
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The Airport Security Test!
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(▀̿Ĺ̯▀̿ ̿) This is the Hygiene Police, we have reason to suspect you didn't wash your hands after exiting the bathroom. Please prepare for a full body cavity search. (▀̿Ĺ̯▀̿ ̿)
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Among Us concerned father
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Bear King Burry vs TSLA
Bear King Michael Burry in the ring, slappin TSLA with a metal chair. His glass eye open wide with rage as he batters TSLA relentlessly.
"The valuation..." crunch "makes...." crunch "NO.... " crunch "SENSE!" he roars with maniacal autistic glee.
TSLA struggles for the edge of the ring, but coughs blood as each hit lands, and eventually stops moving. Bear King Burry drops the chair.
Bear King Burry turns to the crowd
"Was this your champion!? Was TSLA supposed to be your chosen one!?"
A child in the crowd turns his face into his mother's side and cries.
On the side of the ring WSB can barely move. TSLA was supposed to tag them in, but couldn't make it to the side in time.
"Get up TSLA" WSB whimpers hopelessly, a single tear rolling down their cheek. "Get up..."
Bear King Burry turns to WSB
"Now it is your portfolio's turn. Get in here you little bitch."
"Excuse me." Someone replies from behind BKB. "I believe I can give you the fight you want."
A robed figure is administering smelling salts to TSLA. The figure puts TSLA on its shoulder and carries TSLA gently out of the ring.
"And just who the fuck do you think you are?" BKB rumbles ominously.
BKB's fingers squeeze so tightly on the chair that metal bends.
"Who am I?" the robed figure inquires.
The robed figure stands straight and stretches to their full height. They must be at least 7' tall.
The crowd stops crying and watches in stunned silence.
"Who am I?" The figure repeats menacingly.
The figure turns around to face BKB, ripping off his robe. A gleaming light fills the stadium. Before us stands a Golden deity, rippling with muscle. If there is an ounce of body fat it is currently in hiding, only to make way for seemingly endless coiled golden musculature.
The figure looks directly into Bear King Burry's eyes.
"I'm Goldman Sachs, and i'm here to kill you."