God, I fucking love the settings app. I can't stop fucking changing the text size and checking for the new system update. God, the little slider icon turns me on so much. Whenever there is a system update I cry because I can't go on settings again. My screen time shows 107 hours of settings a day, which isn't even fucking possible.
What happened to this ad? :(
More Copypastas
Secret Puerto Rican lover
twitchquotes:
Hola, Kripp, this is Antonio, Rania's secret Puerto Rican lover. I mistakenly left a package of my Magnum XXL Heavy-Duty Condoms at your place last night while you were complaining about a children's card game. I was hoping I could swing by tonight and pick them up. I'll just go in through the backdoor just like how I do with Rania, the dirty girl! Thanks, and good luck with your funny little computer game!
twitch chat
Kripp
Classic
Perfect Pharaoh Pyramid
McAfee didn't kill himself
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩☆۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
☆★☆ 𝐌𝐂𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 ☆★☆
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩☆۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Ben Shapiro ordering pizza
Hello, is this Pizza Hut?
Excellent. My name is Ben Shapiro. Conservative thought leader. Prominent white YouTuber. The Muggsy Bogues of the intellectual dark Web. And—look, it’s just a fact—I would like to order some pizza pie. If you are triggered by that request, I do not care. I truly do not.
Now let’s discuss conditions. First, thank you for agreeing to debate me. Typically, in fora such as this, I am met with ad-hominem mudslinging, anything from “You racist creep” or “Is that your real voice?” to raucous schoolyard laughter and threats of the dreaded “toilet swirly.” However, your willingness to engage with me over the phone on the subject of pizza shows an intellectual fortitude and openness to dangerous ideas which reflects highly on your character. Huzzah, good sir. Huzzah.
Second, any pizza I order will be male. None of this “Our pizza identifies as trans-fluid-pan-poly”—no. Pizza is a boy. With a penis. It’s that simple. It’s been true for all of human history, from Plato to Socrates to Mr. Mistoffelees, and any attempt to rewrite the pillars of Western thought will be met with a hearty “Fuh!” by yours truly. And, trust me, that is not a fate you wish to meet.
Now. With regard to my topping preference. I have eaten from your pizzeria in times past, and it must be said: your pepperoni is embarrassingly spicy. Frankly, it boggles the mind. I mean, what kind of drugs are you inhaling over there? Pot?! One bite of that stuff and I had to take a shower. So tread lightly when it comes to spice, my good man. You do not want to see me at my most epic. Like the great white hero of Zack Snyder’s classic film “300,” I will kick you.
Onions, peppers—no, thank you. If I wanted veggies, I’d go to a salad bar. I’m not some sort of vegan, Cory Booker weirdo. And your efforts to Michelle Obama-ize the great American pizza pie are, frankly, hilarious. Though not as funny as the impressively named P’Zone—when I finally figured out that genuinely creative pun, I laughed until I cried and peed. A true Spartan admits defeat, and I must admit that, in this instance, your Hut humor slayed me, Dennis Miller style.
And, with that, you have earned my order. Congratulations. Ahem. Without further ado, I would like your smallest child pizza, no sauce, extra cheese. Hello? Aha. A hang-up. Another triggered lib, bested by logic. Damn it. I’m fucking starving.
Ben Shapiro
Dreaming about forsen
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢸⢟⣛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣶⣶⣶⡆⠄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢸⡿⡽⠿⠾⣿⣿⡿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠻⡇⠄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⢸⣧⣤⢴⡦⣽⣿⠃⢀⣀⡒⠯⠄⢀⢀⠄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢸⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣧⠄⠚⢿⣧⣅⣀⣤⣔⡄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣷⢸⣿⡿⣻⠿⠟⠁⠄⠄⠄⠹⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣄⣀⣸⣿⢸⣿⣿⣅⣤⡦⠦⣄⠄⠄⠄⠙⣿⡉⠄⠄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⡯⢸⣿⠿⢿⣿⣏⣉⢙⣒⣿⣿⢿⡿⠃⠛⠁
⣿⣿⣿⢋⣭⠍⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠸⠋⠄⠄⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠃⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⡿⣛⡭⠌⠁⠊⢠⣿⣟⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣦⣄⣤⣤⣤⣀⣤⣠⣤⣤⣤⣶
⡇⢿⣰⠏⢀⣾⢆⣽⣛⣼⣦⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⡘⢿⣤⣿⣵⡟⣸⣿⠿⠃⠄⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣛
⣿⣧⢺⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⠄⠄⣠⡔⣘⡻⠿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠄⠉⠉⠉⠛⠒⠿⠿
⣿⣿⣧⢿⣿⣿⣧⠄⢴⡿⢋⣴⣿⣿⡟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⠿⣛⣩⣶⣿⣿⡿⠟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠈⠛⠿⣿⣿⠿⠘⣿⣿⢿⣿⠟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
Forsen