At the anarchist reeducation camp we could have the Anarchist's Anonymous Art Installation, where you make art that challenges norms, but you can't sign your name because that would claim ownership.
At the anarchist reeducation camp we could have the Anarchist's Anonymous Art Installation, where you make art that challenges norms, but you can't sign your name because that would claim ownership.
Let's roast some ideologies.
Reeducation summer camps.
Leftoids are slugs in general
I'm starting my own business and hiring only trans women. Think about it. Man strength, women's wages and no chance of maternity leave.
I once met a guy who was able to time travel. It's true. When I was a kid I used to go swimming at this kid's house up the street named Joe Iahn. He used to think it was hilarious to squirt water from his butt from the pool jets, get out and see how high up on the side of the garage he could fart out a rooster tail. Literally ran and got a tape measure…for accuracy. He competed with his last try like he was in the Olympics. I wanted to beat my high score on Sonic the Hedgehog. But not this guy. He laughed at himself for hours. In 2025 I can order food now from MY toilet, from a hand computer, on the shitter with a high pressure bidet I ordered from Amazon for $37. Shooting water into your colon at the same time you put six boxes of frozen waffles into your virtual shopping cart. Joe was a man of the future.
Most hilarious news story so far in 2025. Sweet karma.
I'm going to really try to put out lots of stuff but I wonder if I should wait until I have followers. I've only had this app for about an hour.
There's a whole lingo associated with this app that I don't understand yet.
I'm new to Nostr and I need some followers or something.
Ashes Of The Architect:
I met a man who spoke of ruins.
Not walls nor cities but the quiet wreckage of men’s designs.
He said: they gave the beast a leash, thinking it would not turn.
They forged its iron heart to devour their enemies.
It came and went as they wished, first a whisper and then a roar,
and it swallowed all that stood before it.
They watched from their high places, proud,
blind to the blood creeping closer, staining their marble floors.
When the towers cracked, their laughter broke.
Power is no servant.
The hand that builds the gallows
will hang there too.
Years passed, the wind wore it down.
The victors fell. The throne shifted.
And there the beast stood again, untethered and unasked,
in new hands but with the same hunger.
The man said, his voice a scar,
I have witnessed it turn on those who loosed it.
I have heard them beg mercy from their own creation.
And in the wastes where their works had been,
I found a stone half-buried in the dust.
Etched upon it:
The blade you sharpen will cut you too. The flame forgets the spark.
A crumbling structure spares no architect.
I knelt there, tracing the words with trembling fingers.
The land was empty, and the silence hung there
like a weight that could never be moved.
Woke is an emerging religion. Here's how.
I can't believe I can just post whatever I want on this app. Sweet freedom. 
The Tea app subpoenaed me for ‘emotional fraud’ because I smiled at someone I wasn’t trauma bonded to.
Me and my friends used to love chugging a beer and burping the ABCs. Now I can't get past the letter A without the smart home system playing Achy Breaky Heart.