ExtremeDullard

It seems obvious to you and me that human qualities other than wealth come into play in a relationship.

But OP’s question is valid, because he’s asking about a generally psychopathic group of people dating regular human beings, and psychopaths don’t feel anything for anyone, and always do things with an angle. And that angle in the case of rich people usually is getting richer, which they can’t do if they date poor people. Hence the question.

When I came back home from the hospital after my amputation, my wife of 30 years told me she didn’t sign up for this, packed up her things and left.

Proton is on my shit list because of this.

I know it was Proton’s CEO and not Proton-the-company that said this, but there has to be consequences for shit like that, so maybe the next cretinous CEO will think twice before siding with fascists. Andy Yen lost his company this customer forever, and they can thank him for that.

I use Runbox. It’s non-nonsense, cheap and privacy-focused. My family and I have been using it for many years.

Trump doesn’t butcher kids, he rapes them.

I don’t know the actual percentage, but I know my company genuinely cares for its workforce, and richly rewards creativity and good work - and not just in the form of money.

It’s also one of the rare companies that cares about the community it operates in. It’s the only company I’ve worked for where one of the points in the annual presentation about the state of the company is how much the company contributed to the community in the form of taxes. Like, it genuinely cares about giving back. For real!

That’s one of the many reason why I hope to retire there.

When the rich billionaire fuckers who will have moved there need someone to clean their martian mansions or mow their space lawn.

Same reason my Dad didn’t want me to marry my wife I guess: Mommy didn’t like her.

The royal family is like all families: it’s fucked up. It’s just that this one is royally fucked up.

A religion is what its believers call it, and what non-believers call it because it has believers.

A religion becomes mythology when it stops being popular, nobody believes its particular set of nonsense anymore and it and slip into history.

What they are at the end of the day is living or dead cults.

I tried to write a SF novel decades ago. I stopped 300 pages in because I re-read what I wrote and it was awful.

Some people are talented at writing. I’m not one of them. The key to realizing whether you are or not is to let a good amount of time pass after you wrote something, then re-read it critically as if you were reading someone you never read before: if you find it boring, you can be 100% certain it’ll be boring to everybody else.

And you have to be willing to acknowledge that you suck at writing too, which is not terribly pleasant.

But I take comfort in knowing that in this day and age, when people can’t read anything without being told how many minutes it will take until their ADD kicks in beforehand, and AI debasing the arts everywhere, I’d be even sadder to be a good writer who can’t make a living out of it anymore.

1. is so you don’t piss all over the seat
2. is so you watch the game and shut the fuck up
3. Why do you look in her closet?

Jungkook of BTS

I have no idea who Jungkook or BTS are. It’s either a cultural thing or an age thing. Probably both 🙂

This one I sorta get. Let it grow all the way out or shave it daily

I believe this old funny post is on point:

WARNING!!!
Don’t Shave That Hair!!!

I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to you, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble shitting.

No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique. It seems my ass-hair had grown to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. It led to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling. Eventually I would have to do two things: either reach down with some paper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached its Can’t-Be-Flushed threshold.

was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea. “Hey! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don’t I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!” I said to myself. It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements. “How many Indians could there be?” said by General Custer. “Looks like a good day for a drive!” by JFK. “There! America On-Line now has complete Usenet access!” by some idiot system tech. Such was my anal shaving idea.

I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my ass of hair. Occassionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which I did by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravine began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby. Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My ass was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over.

Little did I know.

I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry.

Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic shit- molecules lingering around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky shit/sweat combination. As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. God-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm.

Unfortunately again, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my ass off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room. Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all, as the ripe aroma of festering shit/sweat went into the fan and blew back into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my ass cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own shit blowing right into my face, I had only one thought: “It will be like this until the hair grows back. Weeks.”

Later on, trying to deal as best I could, wiping my ass at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks. Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil.

As if that wasn’t enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble. Imagine your ass having the texture of a brillo pad. Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn’t just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony.

Friends, DON’T SHAVE YOUR ASS-HAIR!

Women celebs are human. Shocker…

Somebody just discovered why older standalone games were better…

I don’t drive anymore. Problem solved 🙂

The bus’ maintenance is not my problem, and the over cost of a season pass compared to the TCO of a car is a bargain.

The ballroom will not add any protection to the orange utan: the White House correspondents’ dinner incident was not even close to be anything like a close call: the dude was stopped immediately and didn’t threaten anybody in any way whatsoever. Trump was quite safe.

All mechanics I know disconnect the onboard camera, which made me super-suspicious: if they have nothing to hide, why do they do that?

So I started taking a picture of the odometer whenever I drop off my key at any garage. And sure enough, a couple of times, I found they drove my minivan quite a lot more than a test drive would require. When I confronted them, they became agitated and combative.

In one instance, I actually deducted the cost of the fuel: they had driven the minivan almost 70 miles. They said I had to pay the repairs and I’m not leaving until the bill is paid in full, blah-blah-blah. So I asked them if they wanted me to call the cops and if they wanted their day in court. They relented, I paid the repairs minus the fuel and left. Needless to say, I never went back and reported them to the BBB.

Iran lets Iranian ships and ships from Iran-friendly countries through and nothing else.
The US lets all ships through apart from Iranian and friends’ ships.

If you’re into electronics, think of it as a band-pass filter followed by a notch filter. And it’s just as fucking stupid.

I wish ratemypoo.com still existed. I bet a photo of Donald Trump would have scored high.