

Remember Death cigarettes?


Remember Death cigarettes?


I’d wake up and say “You’ve got the wrong room, mate.”


Otherwise “it was just a prank bro” would be an okay excuse for any form of acting shitty.
If this implies that arsehole prankster influencers should be arrested and fined in this manner: yes, please.


Some people just can’t take a joke.


Send that person to McConnell, if he’s even alive anymore.
I’m in a small English city and it’s the proverbial 15-minute city. It’s very walkable (with a few glaring exceptions) and there’s very little need to drive. I only keep the car to go on European road trips and to visit country pubs where the buses don’t run often enough.
Vancouver’s definitely nice, though affordability is a major problem.
Yep, American-style suburbs are a cancer. If you want to create car dependency, anomie, isolation and despair, well, suburbs are very effective.
I worked as an ER orderly for a while. Evening shift on weekends. It was a town with a fair amount of gang violence, so I’d see my old high-school fellow students and my neighbors coming in with stab and gunshot wounds. If they were conscious, we’d chat: “How’s your sister, Phuta?” “Good, Manny. Is your brother out of Chino yet?” “Nah, he got extra time for a fight.” “Sounds like him.”
But it was the car accidents and industrial accidents that were the most gruesome.