Man gets 10 years in prison after attempting to assassinate japanese prime Minister fumio kishida
- Thread starter hypeshot
- Start date
ultra_pedroj234
Pizza kick fried chicken ass
Yep
globekun
Ediot
>be me
>18, awkward as hell
>insist i'm straight, even though i spend 90% of my time on 4chan and obscure internet forums
>mfw i unironically defend power rangers lore
>one day, mom asks me to clean my room
>groan internally, but comply because she threatened to throw out my limited edition kamen rider figure
>start sorting through my…stuff
>realize the sheer volume of kpop i own is…concerning
>it started innocently enough, a single bts album because 'dna' was catchy
>now? hundreds of albums. photocard binders thicker than the bible
>i have signed posters, lightsticks for groups i only vaguely know, and enough merch to fill a small warehouse
>my room legit looks like a shrine to various korean boy bands
>i even imported that weird milk carton phone case everyone had for 3 weeks
>start tallying the financial damage
>easily over 5 grand. just…gone. into kpop.
>try to rationalize it. 'it's an investment!' i tell myself. 'the photocards will be worth something someday!'
>but deep down, i know i'm lying
>begin organizing the photocards
>i have them sorted by group, then by member, then by era, then by…hair color?
>why do i even know their hair colors from 2018?
>stare at a photocard of jake (???) from enhypen
>he's…really…pretty?
>suddenly, a wave of realization washes over me
>it hits me harder than when i realized santa wasn't real
>oh. oh no.
>i'm not just a fan. i'm a… stan. a very… invested stan.
>and maybe…just maybe…i'm not as straight as i thought
>panic.
>delete my browser history (again)
>try to convince myself it's just 'appreciation of art'
>but then i find my collection of fanfiction i wrote… about… two members of stray kids… doing… laundry… together… affectionately
>facepalm so hard i see stars
>i'm doomed
>try to hide the evidence. shove everything under the bed
>too late. mom walks in.
>she surveys the room, a knowing smile on her face
>"so…you like kpop?" she asks, innocently
>i stammer, trying to deny everything
>"it"s… research! for a… sociology project! yeah, that"s it!"
>she raises an eyebrow
>"right... and all those posters of half-naked korean boys are for… scientific purposes?"
>defeated, i slump onto my bed, surrounded by my kpop hoard
>"i… i think i might be gay"
>mom just laughs and says, "honey... i knew this whole time..."
>wait, what?
>stare at my kpop collection. it stares back.
>maybe this isn't so bad?
>at least i have good taste in music…and…men?
>still awkward though. and still obsessed with tokusatsu. guess i'm just a gay, awkward, tokusatsu-loving kpop stan now
>the future is bright. and probably filled with more photocards.
>18, awkward as hell
>insist i'm straight, even though i spend 90% of my time on 4chan and obscure internet forums
>mfw i unironically defend power rangers lore
>one day, mom asks me to clean my room
>groan internally, but comply because she threatened to throw out my limited edition kamen rider figure
>start sorting through my…stuff
>realize the sheer volume of kpop i own is…concerning
>it started innocently enough, a single bts album because 'dna' was catchy
>now? hundreds of albums. photocard binders thicker than the bible
>i have signed posters, lightsticks for groups i only vaguely know, and enough merch to fill a small warehouse
>my room legit looks like a shrine to various korean boy bands
>i even imported that weird milk carton phone case everyone had for 3 weeks
>start tallying the financial damage
>easily over 5 grand. just…gone. into kpop.
>try to rationalize it. 'it's an investment!' i tell myself. 'the photocards will be worth something someday!'
>but deep down, i know i'm lying
>begin organizing the photocards
>i have them sorted by group, then by member, then by era, then by…hair color?
>why do i even know their hair colors from 2018?
>stare at a photocard of jake (???) from enhypen
>he's…really…pretty?
>suddenly, a wave of realization washes over me
>it hits me harder than when i realized santa wasn't real
>oh. oh no.
>i'm not just a fan. i'm a… stan. a very… invested stan.
>and maybe…just maybe…i'm not as straight as i thought
>panic.
>delete my browser history (again)
>try to convince myself it's just 'appreciation of art'
>but then i find my collection of fanfiction i wrote… about… two members of stray kids… doing… laundry… together… affectionately
>facepalm so hard i see stars
>i'm doomed
>try to hide the evidence. shove everything under the bed
>too late. mom walks in.
>she surveys the room, a knowing smile on her face
>"so…you like kpop?" she asks, innocently
>i stammer, trying to deny everything
>"it"s… research! for a… sociology project! yeah, that"s it!"
>she raises an eyebrow
>"right... and all those posters of half-naked korean boys are for… scientific purposes?"
>defeated, i slump onto my bed, surrounded by my kpop hoard
>"i… i think i might be gay"
>mom just laughs and says, "honey... i knew this whole time..."
>wait, what?
>stare at my kpop collection. it stares back.
>maybe this isn't so bad?
>at least i have good taste in music…and…men?
>still awkward though. and still obsessed with tokusatsu. guess i'm just a gay, awkward, tokusatsu-loving kpop stan now
>the future is bright. and probably filled with more photocards.
MurderGuaranteed
retard
Marv Cuntberg drove his Tesla Model 3 through the Lincoln Tunnel and merged into the eastbound traffic on W42nd St. He had to muscle his way in front of a MT bus cutting it off and getting the finger and horn blast from the morbidly obese sheboon nigger bus driver. Marv mumbled to himself, "fuckin schwartza!" as he made a quick right turn onto 10th Ave. That brought him to a red stoplight on 41st. No sooner did Marv's car come to a stop when the driver's side window exploded inward and a large bluegum nigger fresh out of Rikers started beating Marv in the face with a tire iron.
The three scantily clad and diseased-looking streetwalkers at the corner of that intersection had a ringside seat to Marv's brutal beating. Startled at first by the loud whack of the car window breaking, then when they realized it was just a garden variety beat down of a cracker, they loudly began to shout unintelligible ebonics words of encouragement to the savage nigger now in the animalistic throes of bloodthirsty mayhem as Marv's skull was crushed and battered into a flat crimson blob of glop. The musclebound ape from 15 years of relentless prison weightlifting had little trouble pulling Marv's lifeless body out through the car window and dragging him into the trash-strewn alley next to a boarded-up abandoned flophouse. There amongst the filth and trash, with a few mangy rats watching, the nigger violently sodomized the already dead jew.
NYPD officers, Hector Perez and Agnes Rivera were one block away sitting in their squad car as they watched this horrific crime unfold. A discrete glance at each other, then Perez slowly drove around the corner out of sight of the crime scene and said to his partner, "I got a 2-for-one coupon at Blimpie's, you hungry?" She nodded, yes.
Meanwhile behind the closed newsstand on the opposite corner, a filthy ragged 40-something Clarence Jenkins, still wearing his plastic Bellview hospital bracelet, loudly argued with Jesus that it wasn't his fault, and that he would be a good soldier only if the gate would open and his legs worked again and his teeth grew back. A pudgy Puerto Rican bypasser on an electric scooter wearing garish gang tats on his face barked at him, "Will you shut the fuck up!". Clarence took this to be a sign, and he went into a catatonic state staring fixated at a crack in the sidewalk.
Rats, roaches, bed bugs and pigeons are the only other living things in the city. All scavengers, just like the mouth breathing humans who operate solely on primitive instinct and base motive. It's dog eat dog here. Survival of not necessarily the fittest, but of the sneakiest and the most heartless. Fighting over crumbs to sustain a miserable pathetic existence while at the same time imagining oneself to be God's chosen. Yes, we're referring to those hooknosed bastards. They proudly reign over their various cesspools and the troglodyte goyem subjects they routinely buttfuck. NYC is the quintessential shithole. A jewish paradise. Look at it long enough, and see hell on earth.
In a urine-soaked alleyway, Eric Thomlin, a 30-something from Harrison New Jersey sits on the ground leaning on an overflowing trash dumpster. With eyes sunken back in their sockets and slack-jawed he pulls at the scabs on his emaciated arm. Eric is a hopeless degenerate fenytal addict. He has burnt every bridge and it's only a matter of a few days before the meat wagon picks up his cold stiff corpse to be added to the landfill of Potter's Field. A place where future archeologists will marvel at the colossal mountain of death remains of the unloved. New York City has always been known as a meat grinder, however since this first quarter of this century the death rate has taken a quantum leap spike that rivals the wholesale slaughter of the Holodomor of Eastern Europe of the 1930s. Certain areas of the city smell like a mortuary only when they don't smell like the rancid and decaying contents of the trash cans out behind every fashionable restaurant. Many obese people lumber past Eric and ignore his dirty cardboard sign crudely scribbled with a plea for help.
Every species of living organism rearranges it's environment to suit it's lifestyle. And NYC is a wholly jewish construct.
In the shadow of the George Washington Bridge, Ellie Stockleman arrogantly strolled down the street in Washington Heights, an area of Manhattan's upper west side with a significant Hasidic jewish community. He was coming from K'hal Adath Jeshurun community center where he just gave his 3 year old daughter to Rabbi Snotstein for ritual butt reaming. This ancient custom guarantees a productive year of swindling for the Stockleman family as well as a properly conditioned anus for the daughter. The theory goes that the rabbi's savage rape of the jewish child psychologically conditions the child for a life of victimhood and pathological scapegoating which unto itself is a survival strategy for the tribe, a group naturally at odds with the rest of humanity.
The three scantily clad and diseased-looking streetwalkers at the corner of that intersection had a ringside seat to Marv's brutal beating. Startled at first by the loud whack of the car window breaking, then when they realized it was just a garden variety beat down of a cracker, they loudly began to shout unintelligible ebonics words of encouragement to the savage nigger now in the animalistic throes of bloodthirsty mayhem as Marv's skull was crushed and battered into a flat crimson blob of glop. The musclebound ape from 15 years of relentless prison weightlifting had little trouble pulling Marv's lifeless body out through the car window and dragging him into the trash-strewn alley next to a boarded-up abandoned flophouse. There amongst the filth and trash, with a few mangy rats watching, the nigger violently sodomized the already dead jew.
NYPD officers, Hector Perez and Agnes Rivera were one block away sitting in their squad car as they watched this horrific crime unfold. A discrete glance at each other, then Perez slowly drove around the corner out of sight of the crime scene and said to his partner, "I got a 2-for-one coupon at Blimpie's, you hungry?" She nodded, yes.
Meanwhile behind the closed newsstand on the opposite corner, a filthy ragged 40-something Clarence Jenkins, still wearing his plastic Bellview hospital bracelet, loudly argued with Jesus that it wasn't his fault, and that he would be a good soldier only if the gate would open and his legs worked again and his teeth grew back. A pudgy Puerto Rican bypasser on an electric scooter wearing garish gang tats on his face barked at him, "Will you shut the fuck up!". Clarence took this to be a sign, and he went into a catatonic state staring fixated at a crack in the sidewalk.
Rats, roaches, bed bugs and pigeons are the only other living things in the city. All scavengers, just like the mouth breathing humans who operate solely on primitive instinct and base motive. It's dog eat dog here. Survival of not necessarily the fittest, but of the sneakiest and the most heartless. Fighting over crumbs to sustain a miserable pathetic existence while at the same time imagining oneself to be God's chosen. Yes, we're referring to those hooknosed bastards. They proudly reign over their various cesspools and the troglodyte goyem subjects they routinely buttfuck. NYC is the quintessential shithole. A jewish paradise. Look at it long enough, and see hell on earth.
In a urine-soaked alleyway, Eric Thomlin, a 30-something from Harrison New Jersey sits on the ground leaning on an overflowing trash dumpster. With eyes sunken back in their sockets and slack-jawed he pulls at the scabs on his emaciated arm. Eric is a hopeless degenerate fenytal addict. He has burnt every bridge and it's only a matter of a few days before the meat wagon picks up his cold stiff corpse to be added to the landfill of Potter's Field. A place where future archeologists will marvel at the colossal mountain of death remains of the unloved. New York City has always been known as a meat grinder, however since this first quarter of this century the death rate has taken a quantum leap spike that rivals the wholesale slaughter of the Holodomor of Eastern Europe of the 1930s. Certain areas of the city smell like a mortuary only when they don't smell like the rancid and decaying contents of the trash cans out behind every fashionable restaurant. Many obese people lumber past Eric and ignore his dirty cardboard sign crudely scribbled with a plea for help.
Every species of living organism rearranges it's environment to suit it's lifestyle. And NYC is a wholly jewish construct.
In the shadow of the George Washington Bridge, Ellie Stockleman arrogantly strolled down the street in Washington Heights, an area of Manhattan's upper west side with a significant Hasidic jewish community. He was coming from K'hal Adath Jeshurun community center where he just gave his 3 year old daughter to Rabbi Snotstein for ritual butt reaming. This ancient custom guarantees a productive year of swindling for the Stockleman family as well as a properly conditioned anus for the daughter. The theory goes that the rabbi's savage rape of the jewish child psychologically conditions the child for a life of victimhood and pathological scapegoating which unto itself is a survival strategy for the tribe, a group naturally at odds with the rest of humanity.