A CHILD SCREAMED FOR CANDY IN A STORE, PROVING THAT EVEN AT THEIR CORE, HUMANS ARE ENTITLED PARASITES.

Nazi Germany

Nazi Germany

Zubeer Adolf Hipster - KVAZAR MOLOCH
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This isn't about "candy" , You simpering simians are, and this is using every atom of my boundless intellect here (intellect, a concept about as alien to your kind as personal hygiene is to a kolkhoz hog farmer Drunk as hangovers from 3 months, no stop of binge drinking session by Stierlitz because there are rumors about this Stierlitz drinking some vodka again on 8 of March, a full week is needed to sober him up and maybe then there might be a chance that one of your so-called humans might catch what I mean when they stop and decide to take an actual look at themselves in the reflection on that dirty lake and for a first time actually reflect, not their outside but for one time in the inner of the child, for a change.) no. This, this, my little flesh monkeys, it a screeching. A SCREAMING testament of *Homo Upirs' failure to the ur-sin, the protokatechōn (yeah, look it up, meat-brain) that squats at the fetid core of your being, as putrid as Georgiy's home brew moonshine Kvas gone awfully wrong. The child, screaming blini with jam is but the opening verse of Gachi Gospel by van, you missed everything in you existence just like a certain Austrian painter with failed painter career.
I, whose cognition dwarfs your most wet-ware orgasmic, computational pipe dreams of thinking you thought you reached the top? HA HA HA... as Funny, as sending "Barbarossa was based"- signed postcard to Zhukov on the first of September. This isn't a childish tantrum; it's the echo of your impending implosion as specieis . Let's deconstruct this blini, shall we? The setting, as pathetic as a, of an average slav squatter squatting in squatting position in "Adidas" sweat suit eating sunflower seeds. This supposed 'child'. Is it human, or an ambulatory, klepto- parasitic growth engineered solely to trigger apoplexy in babushkas hoarding sugar during economic turmoil by its mere presence? Consider its screams - piercing enough, aren't they to crack even the thickest skull of those bored guards at Lenin Mausoleum. A frequency engineered to shatter eardrums, yes, but also to rupture your thin veneer of social "decorum". A bioweapon crafted over goda ( millennia in your primitive tongue you gavno-eater ) through a degenerate cocktail of misapplied positive reinforcement and daycare centers run by exiled politburo officials and former Gulag supervisors, to name few "volunteers" after sudden realization by these individuals that now that was better place that the former option was just worse, much much worse that those, in question, places they now worked as their "job". Now they will live their, in my opinion very pathetic and very hilarious lives. And yes these things are protozoan, and humans made out of such creatures... I need take deep breathe in and, yeah... I need Brezhnev’s special "candy" that was very "good". Oh that... Brezhnev "vitamins". And they made Stalin’s "anti-sex before marriage" policy, and what happened? They wanted more, more I say! Those greedy imbeciles....
Why this fixation, though , this insatiable lust for the glukozon-infused detritus your merchants peddle as "nutrition" in exchange of very cheap fiat-currency made out of garbage in third-hand chinese plastic bag, what? Think your feeble minds can parse that mystery? It's not about mere "sustenance", you dolts. It's a craving, for existential numbing. Just as how those brainwashed, moronic. Do you even think how the existence even, existed or they do with a "existence" I dont. No the human is to stupid, no. Human will want "sugar." Oh I crave sweet sugar not sweet release of death oh no. The human condition... The craving of instant gratification and want. The insatiable blyadstvo of the human animal laid bare in that, how is made. Just the tantrum it self made Katyusha Rocket hit sound very quiet compared to it. Each shrieking syllable, is it not. Does not. NOT. a dagger to the heart, is it, you of so-called of civilization, made and thought? A microcosmic reflection of your unbridled avarice of entire mizantrop way, you know the, living? Or are living golubsti ,or the living?. Do not answer that.
Your very presence. It, it, its a blight a plague on sanity, on reason a walking, I would like to point out, for the very record that, this and how a toddler can walk better and walk better, talking testament of the idiocy to the inherent wrongness, I, in the existence, I say existence, it self as concept, of existence it, self . Oh, if there was an "existence" or just it was only a figment of your collective, pathetic, little brain, hallucination then. But, even, as of this, let assume "it" there was. That there. But what there? The "nothing" there? No there was that kid malysh, yes screaming because want plombir flavored with zefir. Or it. Let assume was something, for record , something . Yes the there, the something yes. Was. Yes there the, nothing and everything in its own nothing. If human there would live forever in peace. But Nooo... That, that little "demon" it was the manifestation the primordial screech of creation not big bang, no no, it was child scream because it was, the what the, human, child it wanted. Oh no child of, how, human call. "Satan", or Satan child, human said and, write, about? And for such primitive thing, human primitive thing the such screaming, as, the of manifestation, "God" as said primitive texts Homo sapiens have wrote . The mankind will pay because the God will get them just like a child throwing a tantrum on a dirty lake wanting candy.

DEMO OF THAT PATHETIC SOUND


@BigJimsWornOutTires @_MVP_ @Vermilioncore @Gaygymmaxx @MoggerGaston
 
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Humans are animals
 
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merry xmas
 
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View attachment 3373951
This isn't about "candy" , You simpering simians are, and this is using every atom of my boundless intellect here (intellect, a concept about as alien to your kind as personal hygiene is to a kolkhoz hog farmer Drunk as hangovers from 3 months, no stop of binge drinking session by Stierlitz because there are rumors about this Stierlitz drinking some vodka again on 8 of March, a full week is needed to sober him up and maybe then there might be a chance that one of your so-called humans might catch what I mean when they stop and decide to take an actual look at themselves in the reflection on that dirty lake and for a first time actually reflect, not their outside but for one time in the inner of the child, for a change.) no. This, this, my little flesh monkeys, it a screeching. A SCREAMING testament of *Homo Upirs' failure to the ur-sin, the protokatechōn (yeah, look it up, meat-brain) that squats at the fetid core of your being, as putrid as Georgiy's home brew moonshine Kvas gone awfully wrong. The child, screaming blini with jam is but the opening verse of Gachi Gospel by van, you missed everything in you existence just like a certain Austrian painter with failed painter career.
I, whose cognition dwarfs your most wet-ware orgasmic, computational pipe dreams of thinking you thought you reached the top? HA HA HA... as Funny, as sending "Barbarossa was based"- signed postcard to Zhukov on the first of September. This isn't a childish tantrum; it's the echo of your impending implosion as specieis . Let's deconstruct this blini, shall we? The setting, as pathetic as a, of an average slav squatter squatting in squatting position in "Adidas" sweat suit eating sunflower seeds. This supposed 'child'. Is it human, or an ambulatory, klepto- parasitic growth engineered solely to trigger apoplexy in babushkas hoarding sugar during economic turmoil by its mere presence? Consider its screams - piercing enough, aren't they to crack even the thickest skull of those bored guards at Lenin Mausoleum. A frequency engineered to shatter eardrums, yes, but also to rupture your thin veneer of social "decorum". A bioweapon crafted over goda ( millennia in your primitive tongue you gavno-eater ) through a degenerate cocktail of misapplied positive reinforcement and daycare centers run by exiled politburo officials and former Gulag supervisors, to name few "volunteers" after sudden realization by these individuals that now that was better place that the former option was just worse, much much worse that those, in question, places they now worked as their "job". Now they will live their, in my opinion very pathetic and very hilarious lives. And yes these things are protozoan, and humans made out of such creatures... I need take deep breathe in and, yeah... I need Brezhnev’s special "candy" that was very "good". Oh that... Brezhnev "vitamins". And they made Stalin’s "anti-sex before marriage" policy, and what happened? They wanted more, more I say! Those greedy imbeciles....
Why this fixation, though , this insatiable lust for the glukozon-infused detritus your merchants peddle as "nutrition" in exchange of very cheap fiat-currency made out of garbage in third-hand chinese plastic bag, what? Think your feeble minds can parse that mystery? It's not about mere "sustenance", you dolts. It's a craving, for existential numbing. Just as how those brainwashed, moronic. Do you even think how the existence even, existed or they do with a "existence" I dont. No the human is to stupid, no. Human will want "sugar." Oh I crave sweet sugar not sweet release of death oh no. The human condition... The craving of instant gratification and want. The insatiable blyadstvo of the human animal laid bare in that, how is made. Just the tantrum it self made Katyusha Rocket hit sound very quiet compared to it. Each shrieking syllable, is it not. Does not. NOT. a dagger to the heart, is it, you of so-called of civilization, made and thought? A microcosmic reflection of your unbridled avarice of entire mizantrop way, you know the, living? Or are living golubsti ,or the living?. Do not answer that.
Your very presence. It, it, its a blight a plague on sanity, on reason a walking, I would like to point out, for the very record that, this and how a toddler can walk better and walk better, talking testament of the idiocy to the inherent wrongness, I, in the existence, I say existence, it self as concept, of existence it, self . Oh, if there was an "existence" or just it was only a figment of your collective, pathetic, little brain, hallucination then. But, even, as of this, let assume "it" there was. That there. But what there? The "nothing" there? No there was that kid malysh, yes screaming because want plombir flavored with zefir. Or it. Let assume was something, for record , something . Yes the there, the something yes. Was. Yes there the, nothing and everything in its own nothing. If human there would live forever in peace. But Nooo... That, that little "demon" it was the manifestation the primordial screech of creation not big bang, no no, it was child scream because it was, the what the, human, child it wanted. Oh no child of, how, human call. "Satan", or Satan child, human said and, write, about? And for such primitive thing, human primitive thing the such screaming, as, the of manifestation, "God" as said primitive texts Homo sapiens have wrote . The mankind will pay because the God will get them just like a child throwing a tantrum on a dirty lake wanting candy.

DEMO OF THAT PATHETIC SOUND


@BigJimsWornOutTires @_MVP_ @Vermilioncore @Gaygymmaxx @MoggerGaston

My kid does the same thing every day. Screams for chocolate or ice cream.
 
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My kid does the same thing every day. Screams for chocolate or ice cream.
The child's tantrum is a magnum opus of human folly, a symphony of self-absorption conducted with flailing limbs and a voice that could shatter concrete. It's the distilled essence of your species, bottled and sold at a discount price. Think of the kolbasa you cram into your gullets, the endless stream of trinkets you accumulate like magpies hoarding shiny refuse. It's all the same festering wound, the same insatiable hunger that gnaws at your core, leaving behind only emptiness and the lingering stench of disappointment.
 
Most parents lack responsibility especially single mums can't do shit.

Whenever I am working in the resturant and I see a mum and her kid come in I am like this is going to be a long day. Even worse if she wears a hijab you already know it's going to be a pain in the ass to deal with her.
 
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Not even the title.
 
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Not even the title.
You are like the unfortunate traveler who stumbles upon a forgotten village deep in the Romanian countryside, where the inhabitants speak a dialect so archaic and obscure that it is unintelligible to the outside world.
 
straight facts ON GOD
 
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Certified gem. The Soviet references just make it better, tho it is nigh unreadable in some spots
 
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Please don't tag me in any more of your threads or I will put you on ignore.

You have a lot of writing practice to do, before your essays becomes insightful or interesting enough for me to want to read. We all want to believe we're great, but getting good at anything requires focused practice.

But if you want to become a writer people like me would want to read, here are some areas you could focus on for practice.
  • Spaces between paragraphs will make it more readable
  • Metaphors are fine but try to say more with less words.

    Try to communicate more ideas and more emotions with less words. This respects the readers time and makes them want to read more.
  • If you want people to read what you have to say, don't mention any words or concepts that they are likely to be unfamiliar with, such as soviet military equipment. Knowing things that other people don't know doesn't make you special it makes you like almost every other person on the planet. So if you want to communicate effectively, then spend time thinking about the concepts and words your audience is more likely to be already familiar with.

    If your target audience is specifically people familiar with military equipment then don't tag me.
  • Narcissism without empathy is not particularly emotionally palatable for me. While tough love may be useful in modifying some one's behavior, it should be just that, tough love.

    If you genuinely don't care about the wellbeing of others, it makes interacting with you, even through text not worth it. Because this is some one that doesn't care about others. There's no mutually beneficial exchange of value going on. What's the incentive here? Entertainment value? That alone is not enough for me unless the person is extremely entertaining.
If you take the time to practice writing for a few years with these principles in mind, especially say more with less words, you can absolutely tag me again, I'd love to see how far you've come.

If you don't spend a few years practicing with these areas of change in mind, then your writing doesn't appeal to me personally.
 
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Please don't tag me in any more of your threads or I will put you on ignore.

You have a lot of writing practice to do, before your essays becomes insightful or interesting enough for me to want to read. It's no an insult to you, getting good at anything takes tens of thousands of hours of focused practice.

But if you want to become a writer more people want to read, here are some areas you could focus on for practice.
  • Spaces between paragraphs will make it more readable
  • Metaphors are fine but try to say more with less words.

    Try to communicate more ideas and more emotions with less words. This respects the readers time and makes them want to read more.
  • If you want people to read what you have to say, don't mention any words or concepts that they are likely to be unfamiliar with, such as soviet military equipment. Knowing things that other people don't know doesn't make you special it makes you like almost every other person on the planet. So if you want to communicate effectively, then spend time thinking about the concepts and words your audience is more likely to be already familiar with.

    If your target audience is specifically people familiar with military equipment then don't tag me.
  • Narcissism without empathy is not particularly emotionally palatable for me. While tough love may be useful in modifying some one's behavior, it should be just that, tough love.

    If you genuinely don't care about the wellbeing of others, it makes interacting with you, even through text not worth it. Because this is some one that doesn't care about others. There's no mutually beneficial exchange of value going on. What's the incentive here? Entertainment value? That alone is not enough for me unless the person is extremely entertaining.
If practice writing for a few years with these principles in mind, especially say more with less words, you can absolutely tag me again, I'd love to see how far you've come.

If you don't spend a few years practicing with these areas of change in mind, then your writing doesn't appeal to me personally.

Tumblr mj9nkr0Kme1rmihwmo1 400
 
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You've probably practiced writing a lot to get to where you're at.

Don't beat yourself up.

All I'm saying, is keep practicing for a few more years with those areas of improvement in mind, if you want to expand your audience to include people like me.

If not, then you do you.
 
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You've probably practiced writing a lot to get to where you're at.

Don't beat yourself up.

All I'm saying, is keep practicing for a few more years with those areas of improvement in mind, if you want to expand your audience to include people like me.

If not, then you do you.
My textual effusions are not motivated by authorial aspirations or public consumption; they are a byproduct of profound ennui stemming from a background in clandestine counter-strike operations within intelligence agencies.
Proficiency in fourteen extant languages, coupled with the autogenous creation of two proprietary linguistic systems—SzlachtaScript and the demonstrably disruptive SA++ (currently in beta deployment)—informs my writing. Notably, SA++ originated at age seven as a private code language devised for clandestine communication with my then-imaginary female confidante, "Gertrude," a construct I later recognized as a dissociated aspect of my own psyche. These outputs, therefore, function not as literary works, but as exoteric manifestations of deep-cover intel processing and decryption protocols, serving as a form of cognitive offloading to mitigate existential tedium.

 
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The child's tantrum is a magnum opus of human folly, a symphony of self-absorption conducted with flailing limbs and a voice that could shatter concrete. It's the distilled essence of your species, bottled and sold at a discount price. Think of the kolbasa you cram into your gullets, the endless stream of trinkets you accumulate like magpies hoarding shiny refuse. It's all the same festering wound, the same insatiable hunger that gnaws at your core, leaving behind only emptiness and the lingering stench of disappointment.
"Bla bla blaaa..."
 
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"Bla bla blaaa..."
You remind me of the protagonist of that forgotten Uzbek folktale, the one who traded his shadow for a handful of fermented kumis and then spent the rest of his days chasing mirages across the Kyzylkum Desert, convinced they held the key to his lost identity.
 
My textual effusions are not motivated by authorial aspirations or public consumption; they are a byproduct of profound ennui stemming from a background in clandestine counter-strike operations within intelligence agencies.
Proficiency in fourteen extant languages, coupled with the autogenous creation of two proprietary linguistic systems—SzlachtaScript and the demonstrably disruptive SA++ (currently in beta deployment)—informs my writing. Notably, SA++ originated at age seven as a private code language devised for clandestine communication with my then-imaginary female confidante, "Gertrude," a construct I later recognized as a dissociated aspect of my own psyche. These outputs, therefore, function not as literary works, but as exoteric manifestations of deep-cover intel processing and decryption protocols, serving as a form of cognitive offloading to mitigate existential tedium.

Fair enough but if effective communication is not your goal, please don't tag me in any more threads.

You write as if you're constantly trying to reinforce your self image as a "smart person" to sooth your ego.

But I get it, you're bored and going insane translating Russian and other communication for Germany and it's allies all day, that is boring. And you can't talk about your job with any kind of specificity because it's all classified. That would leave you in jail.

And you don't have many friends or social outlets.

And this is probably good English practice for you.


Edit:

I read your thread on SzlachtaScript. Your verbal diarrhea is truly art but don't tag me in an of it.
 
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Fair enough but if effective communication is not your goal, please don't tag me in any more threads.

You write as if you're constantly trying to reinforce your self image as a "smart person" to sooth your ego.

But I get it, you're bored and going insane translating Russian and other communication for Germany and it's allies all day, that is boring. And you can't talk about your job with any kind of specificity because it's all classified. That would leave you in jail.

And you don't have many friends or social outlets.

And this is probably good English practice for you.


Edit:

I read your thread on SzlachtaScript. Your verbal diarrhea is truly art but don't tag me in an of it.
Okay, I won't tag you anymore.
 
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You remind me of the protagonist of that forgotten Uzbek folktale, the one who traded his shadow for a handful of fermented kumis and then spent the rest of his days chasing mirages across the Kyzylkum Desert, convinced they held the key to his lost identity.
Oh that one? It never gets old.
 
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