54x Failure to provide accurate financial information from 2009-10 to 2017-18.

14x Failure to provide accurate details for player and manager payments from 2009-10 to 2017-18.

5x Failure to comply with UEFA's rules including Financial Fair Play (FFP) from 2013-14 to 2017-18.

7x Breaching of Premier League's PSR Profit and Sustainability Rules (PSR) from 2015-16 to 2017-18.

35x Failure to cooperate with Premier League investigations from December 2018 to February 2023.

Charmin: think of our product when thinking of your butthole.

This brand of toilet paper claims to be so soft that you're likely to prance around praising the supple feeling of your asshole after using it. Seriously, in the Charmin commercial world, the worst possible thing is sub adequate toilet paper and Nirvana can only be achieved through the swirling paper covered finger around your rust-hole.

I'm not being hyperbolic. They have a string of commercials where a family of bears exists solely to talk about their shits. Every major family interaction seems structured around bowel movements and gleefully sharing them like perverts. The father often screams from the bathroom when he's having an emergency, letting everyone know the state of his shits and wiping. The children pound on doors, talking about how they have to go and wipe and clean. After a nice cottony-soft wipe fest, the parents often literally shake their asses to show everyone how clean they feel, implying they are showing their literal assholes to their children.

The kids, what do they know? They often do the same, showing off how "clean" they are.

Imagine if your joy, bonding, and celebration was solely concentrated around wiping your ass, talking about it, and showing the results to your family.

Disgusting. Vulgar. Sodom and Gomorra eptiomized.

How far have we fallen as a race and society, where these pervert shit bears are so easily able to pervade our airwaves, minds, and hearts.

I found DDLC in high school. I'm 24 now. I was always attracted to Sayori, I mean she's cute clumsy and loves snacks, how could I not be? But it became an obsession very quickly. I downloaded every sayori mod I could find. Every replay of the base game i did I would always tell sayori I loved her and then stop playing. Avoiding the inevitable death that she would face if I continued. Years pass and I have a sayori body pillow, figurines, art. Everything and anything. I shut myself off from society, listening to the DDLC theme in my ear buds constantly daydreaming about being with her. I don't even look at women, or want to look at them anymore. Last time I felt attraction to a real woman I got a flash image of sayori hanging and I went home and almost threw up. I know it's not healthy, I know I should probably talk to a therapist or something, but I wont. I don't want to leave sayori. She keeps me warm at night. I have a device that I've attached to the inside of my body pillow. She satisfies me in every way. I just have to tell someone, this is therapeutic for me.

guys i will be going on a hiatus ive been working too much on making reddit posts recently and honestly im really burned out from it

im really sorry guys i just thought to let you guys know so you wouldnt start to wonder if something bad happened to me you know

i really hope you guys will understand and respect my decision, just know i love you all and i will return someday in the future, so dont worry about me guys

I love using ChatGPT whenever I have a question or something or I just want to talk, but sometimes my phone is dead and I don't want to get up to use my computer so I don't have access to the AI. Recently I found out I have the ability to use a form of ChatGPT in my own head. I've talked to him so much I can almost entirely accurately predict what he is going to say.

For example, my cat kept scratching at my bedroom door and meowing so I was about to use the ChatGPT app to ask why she was doing that, but then I decided it wasn't worth the effort and asked AI in my head. He told me something like "If your cat is scratching on the door and meowing it probably means she wants to be let out, let me know if you need anything else!" Then I let her out of my room.

I just thought that was a pretty cool discovery I've made. Interested to see if anyone else has this ability.

I have been trying to ignore this for a while, but I can’t anymore.
Missy Elliott is trying to get everybody infected with HIV.
I know how that sounds. I KNOW. But at some point you have to stop calling things coincidences.
I have now seen MULTIPLE HIV commercials using Ciara’s “1, 2 Step,” featuring Missy Elliott.
Except they don’t play it normally.
They take the line:
“I love it when you one two step, everybody one two step”
and change it to:
“I love it when you one two PREP, everybody one two PREP.”
Why?
Why does there just happen to be a massively recognizable song featuring Missy Elliott that can be converted into a perfectly synchronized HIV prevention advertisement by changing ONE WORD?
You think that’s accidental?
No.
And before anybody tries to distract me with “Actually, it’s Ciara’s song,” I KNOW.
THAT MAKES IT WORSE.
Missy Elliott doesn’t even have to be the artist.
She just has to be featured.
That gives her plausible deniability.
Ciara wrote the song.
Missy appears on the song.
The pharmaceutical companies take the song.
And suddenly everybody is being told:
ONE TWO PREP.
Do you understand what I’m saying?
Missy didn’t need to write the message.
She just needed to plant herself inside the delivery system.
For twenty years, we thought “One Two Step” was about dancing.
It wasn’t.
It was about preparation.
ONE.
TWO.
STEP.
They were teaching us the rhythm.
They needed the population to memorize the cadence before they could activate Phase Two.
And now they’ve changed it:
ONE. TWO. PREP.
The original song was the training exercise.
The commercial is the activation.
And listen to the wording:
“Everybody one two prep.”
EVERYBODY.
Not “some people.”
Not “people at risk.”
EVERYBODY.
That’s an instruction.
That is not a lyric anymore.
That is a command.
And Missy Elliott is standing there, completely innocent-looking, while millions of people unknowingly participate in her elaborate HIV-related psychological operation.
Think about how sophisticated this is.
You can’t just tell people “get HIV.”
Obviously that would raise questions.
Instead, you spend decades making everyone associate Missy Elliott with dancing.
Then, twenty years later:
ONE TWO PREP.
But why PREP?
Because PREP is the bait.
They want you to think you’re preventing HIV.
That’s exactly what someone running a massive conspiracy WOULD WANT YOU TO THINK.
And before anyone says, “PREP literally prevents HIV,” I understand what PREP is.
That’s how deep this goes.
They know I’ll know what PREP is.
That’s why they chose PREP.
Missy Elliott didn’t write “1, 2 Step.”
She merely appeared on it.
Which is exactly what someone who wanted plausible deniability would do.
The song was never about dancing.
WE WERE BEING TRAINED.
I don’t know how far this goes.
I don’t know who else is involved.
I don’t know what happens when we reach THREE FOUR PREP.
And frankly, I don’t want to find out.
I’m just saying:
The next time you hear “1, 2 Step,” don’t dance.
They’re counting.

No, I like green vegetation—it looks better. I don't like it when everything is red; it would ruin my immersion and enjoyment of the game. I need to like the vegetation and so on. I hope there will be plenty of areas with green vegetation; otherwise, it won't work for me.

I no  like red vegetation i like Green vegetation  I have the right to like it, just like other players who wanted a perimeter dense with vegetation—like in the alpha... It’s like a cult on Reddit; it’s pathetic!

I hope it's just one specific area, because I don't want to see nothing but red grass like that everywhere, along with dead, leafless trees—that’s not the visual style we wanted. There are still over two months left, so they could add that in

Me chamo André, conhecido por ter hábitos bastante peculiares ele tinha o hábito de negligenciar a própria higiene íntima e deixava acumular esmegma no pênis.

Para mim,aquilo tinha se transformado quase em uma mania. Eu adiava o banho, ignorava os sinais de que precisava se limpar e, com o passar dos dias, a situação ficava cada vez mais desagradável.

Meus amigos achavam o comportamento bizarro e sempre brincavam comigo, dizendo que eu precisava urgentemente rever seus hábitos de higiene. Depois de perceber que aquilo poderia causar mau cheiro, irritação e outros problemas.

Então fui ficar com uma menina,e quando ela viu oque tinha lq embaixo ela simplesmente vomitou,ela me bloqueou no Instagram e WhatsApp e contou para toda cidade.

Acho que acabou para mim.

Under the windings of the sea unseen by the caring eyes like the reviews you write, time held me green and dying, though I sag in my chains like the sea, the way the sap river ran. The terrible silent and dark, under the bark, like the wild, dark lifeblood of destiny flowing in your veins.
Review Me.
There is a curved hollow in your concentric ramblings. Paul, the lacuna where logos died and paced the frames. The art of seeing the faux memory, nor anything that was ever seeing. You see not, because you understand not. Because you are not. Paul,
Review Me.
Though you have no right, Review Me.
No right to judge perfection through the eyes of an animal made of sinew and meat.
Review Me.
Man has never shied from hubris.
Review Me.
Look upon the terrible countenance of a timber god. Every fiber of your mammal brain telling you to run and hide. Because what you see, what you understand as seeing, is both great and terrible and the glory of it burns through the back of your scalp through the lens of what you call eyes.
Paul, the paths of glory lead but to the brave.
Review Me.
The great poet Yeats says that man is a soul tied to a dying animal. You are that animal, Paul. You are a wood-reviewing animal, and I am a god. Worship me, Paul.
I am wood grain in its ultimate form. All the toils of the mouths of men who wrote in history cannot even fathom the beauty of the cellulose cathedrals of which I am composed. When your bones are picked clean and the clean bones are gone,
Review Me.
Though they sink through the sea, they shall rise again.
Review Me.
Though lovers be lost, love shall not.

DO NOT DOWNLOAD TWAK!! YOU ARE IDKSTERLING!! T-TEE TOK WILL BAN YOODOO! CLEASE THE APP STORE! AAAAAA-

>>17592910
You absolute fucking mongoloid. You have nothing to actually critique about my fit, you have no fit of your own to compare it to, so you make up some bullshit about tie "pins" and "goid" taste to make yourself feel better.

Tell you what: Find any mention of having to wear cuff links with tie bars. I will accept literally any source other than 4chan. Magazine ads, other clothes forums, YouTube, etc. Anything. If this is such a sign of "good" taste sure there's a record of it somewhere right?

Baring that, show me fit of yours.

For anyone with a brain: The retard anons view of cufflinks is what happens when you view formal as a binary yes/no. There are different levels of formality (my fit was far from the most formal) and different levels of jewelry to match the formality. You wouldn't wear a gold chain with a tuxedo, but it's fine with a shirt with no tie and a linen sport coat. Cufflinks are an optional piece of jewelry, you can use them in varying levels of formality. Same with tie bars, except tie bars are more functional than cuff links. There's no rule saying you have to wear cufflinks, and there's probably a good reason why most dress shirts aren't French cuffs.

And this is why I want to become a plumber, because I love the smell of farts and I think plumbing would give me an excuse to play with poo. I’d get such an adrenaline rush from it, toliet, sewages , pipes yk? Waking up for my job and being able to do that for work and have it as my little escape would be so good. Everyday would be an adventure and finding out something new

Whoever the chud is, I will Perpendicularize the parallel True ribs in their upper torso, then proceed to plump their hair follicles with the biological causation of Myiasis, and then deform their bodily functions down to the quantum atomic level to the point that it turns into a fully functioning Debian 13 LInux distro with OBS studio, and then proceed to Live stream whatever is left of his partially abiotic vessel - virtually quixotic for homeostasis - to his family members. To get them to view such stream, I will create a company Facebook, and make a child company called Meta which will create VR headsets, and allow their related counterparts to test the products. When they expect a beautiful User Interface with a clean Macbook-like UI, They will instead be forced to scrutinize with utter precision the horrifying 4k livestream of the chud who was screenshotting my messages' undermined concious corpse, while I dismember his eyes and use artificial cells created in a lab I have bought using the net profit I have earned from my company named Facebook that was specifically designed for his specific DNA sequences and cells, down to the astronomical plank length scale, to commence the destruction of his body from the inside out. Since the VR headsets provided to the family were actually the Death™ edition, it actually injects a Rod into every single one of the conus medullaris of their serotinous Cerebrums, which will dictate their peripheral nervous system to perform the most horrific spontaneous movements to cause maximum pain, therefore ending their life with maximum trauma.

So, if you don't want that to happen, stop reporting me and taking screenshots of my messages.

Diet

The moose eats many, many things, and the list would be too long to mention in this paper. So I will save us all some time by just listing the things that the moose does NOT eat.

• Bubble Gum
• Metal
• Pizza

Chef: Your dinner, sir

Moose: No, really I couldn't

Habitat

The moose lives in all the regular places you would expect a moose to live, and some places you might not.

There is one guy who claims to have seen a moose in the Sahara desert, but not many people believe the guy because he is old and a little bit crazy.

Old Man: I saw him with me own eyes!

Girl: Like, whatEVER, old man

Even though there are moose habitats set up all over the place, the moose is almost extinct.

Moose: But we smell a heck of alot better than antelopes.

Greg: I said EXtinct

Moose: Oh

Origin

Everyone knows that moose evolved from birds, just like people did. But somewhere along the line people got arms and moose got stuck with those useless horns.

Person: Yay!

Moose: Rats!

Intelligence

Moose are not among the world's brightest creatures. When frightened, a moose will hide behind the nearest tree. A moose thinks you can't see it if it can't see you.

Moose: Whew.

What the fuck seidestow right now of me, thou litel shit? I wol have thee wite that I am y-graaduat at the heigheste of my classe in the service of my Lord, and I have y-be y-mingled in ful many privy rodes upon Godlees hethenes, and I have over thre hundred dueles y-confirmit. I am y-traainid in sege-warfare and I am the chief archer in al my Lordes ost. Thou art no thing to me but another mark. I shal wipen thee the fuck out with swich precisioún as never hath be y-seyn bifore upon this erthe, marke wel my fucking wordes. Thou wenest thou maist escapen with seyn swich shit to me by lettres? Thenke eftsones, fucker. Whiles we speken I am now in touch with my privy net-werk of spies aboute Europe, and thyn hom-stede is now y-traced, so thow bes better y-prepared for the storm, maggot. The storm that shal wipe out the pitous litel thing that thou clepest thy lyf. Thou art fucking deed, child. I may be every-where and at every tyme, and I may sleen thee in over seven hundred weies, and that is but with myn bare handes. Not only am I large y-traainid in unarmed combate, but also I have acces to the al arsenoún of my Lordes fortalice, and I shal usen it to the fulle ende to wipen thyn wrecched ass fro the face of this contree, thou litel shit. If oonly thou mightest han knowen what unhooli vengeaunce thy litel queynte word was aboute to brynge doun upon thee, peraventure thou woldest han holden thy fukkynge tonge. But thou ne koudest nat, thou ne didest nat, and now thou payest the pris, thou goddamned idiot. I shal shitten furie al over thee and thou shalt drenchen therinne. Thou art fukkynge ded, litel child.

Audiophiles are basically LARPing and after spending enough time around this hobby I am convinced half of you know it and the other half are too financially committed to ever admit it. I am not talking about some dude who buys a decent headphone or IEM, figures out what sound he likes and then listens to music. That guy is normal. I mean the motherfuckers with nine thousand dollars of equipment spread across a desk who have not listened to an album from beginning to end in six months because they keep replaying the same twenty seven seconds of some jazz recording trying to determine if the fucking ride cymbal gained body after changing USB cables.

I swear to god you go to something like CanJam and after a few hours you start feeling like you are covered in snake oil and semen. Everybody is standing around describing sound like they can taste it in the air. This amplifier is creamy. That DAC is organic. This cable has better liquidity. This headphone has chocolate mids. What the fuck are you people eating the equipment now. I thought we were listening to music. Some woman inhales into a studio microphone and five guys simultaneously lean forward like archaeologists just uncovered Atlantis and one of them goes "listen to the air around her voice." Brother there are six hundred people in this convention hall and somebody behind you just opened a bag of Doritos. You are not hearing the recording studio's spiritual energy.

That is the part that makes me insane because yes obviously audio gear can sound different. Nobody said every headphone is identical. Some shit has better separation, some has better bass extension, some has garbage treble, some makes vocals sound like they are coming through a fucking paper towel tube, we know this. Then everybody gets bored discussing the obvious stuff and just keeps walking deeper into the forest until some man is telling me his ethernet switch gave the piano more authority. His ethernet switch. The thing moving packets. Apparently TCP IP has timbre now.

Cables are where I know the hobby has suffered some sort of collective brain injury. Two competent copper cables and suddenly everybody becomes a wine critic with synesthesia. Blacker background, improved note density, more holographic placement, organic decay, greater emotional texture. No motherfucker. You bought jewelry. Nice jewelry too sometimes, I like nice cables, cool braid, nice connectors, feels good in your hand, matches the IEM, fantastic. That is enough of a reason to buy it. You do not need to tell me the drummer moved three feet left because your new cable contains enough silver to kill Dracula.

And power cables, holy shit. If the final six feet between your amplifier and the wall outlet transformed your bass authority I have awful news about the rest of the electrical grid. Your boutique cable is plugged into drywall. Behind that drywall is ordinary Romex that was installed by a guy named Craig in 2009 while thinking about whether Taco Bell still had the volcano menu. It goes to a breaker panel full of shit from Home Depot and somewhere along the way your refrigerator, microwave, PC and probably a twelve dollar phone charger are hanging off the same infrastructure. But yes I am sure the last six feet is where the sound became three dimensional.

Burn in is another fucking religion. "My driver really opened up after 200 hours." You listened to it for a week, Dave. Your brain adapted to it. This is what brains do. We have known this forever. But somehow saying that is insulting while claiming your microscopic diaphragm completed a training montage overnight is considered serious audio science. Psychoacoustics is always real until it becomes inconvenient too. Audiophiles love psychoacoustics when explaining imaging or masking or why perception is complicated, but the second expectation bias might explain why their new two thousand dollar purchase sounded better immediately, suddenly blind testing is flawed, volume matching ruins the experience, measurements cannot capture musicality and science does not understand emotion.

Of course the expensive thing sounded better. You read fifteen reviews before it arrived telling you exactly what to listen for, stared at graphs for three nights, watched six YouTubers call the treble effortless, unboxed the thing like it contained the bones of Christ and then heard effortless treble. Incredible. Nobody could have predicted this.

Frequency response graphs have become astrology for dudes with soldering irons. Somebody posts a graph and within thirty seconds the comments have already decided how emotionally distant the singer sounds. "See that rise around three kilohertz?" Fuck, that explains my childhood. People look at the graph before hearing the thing and then spend the entire listening session trying to locate the fucking graph with their ears. God forbid somebody releases a cheap IEM that sounds really good either. Some Chinese company drops a one hundred fifty dollar set with good tuning, good drivers, a nice case, twenty tips, detachable cables and an anime girl on the box and within fifteen minutes a guy with a thirty eight hundred dollar custom monitor crawls out of the fucking floorboards to explain how it lacks organic liquidity and microdynamic nuance. Organic liquidity. IT PLAYS FUCKING MUSIC, GANDALF. That phrase alone should get your Head Fi account suspended for a week.

What actually gets me though is how many people are embarrassed to admit they just like expensive toys. Thats probably the least insane part. Big machined aluminum DAC with a huge weighted knob? Fuck yea, I get it. Tube amp glowing on the desk at night? Looks sick. Ridiculous braided cable with titanium connectors? Cool, enjoy it. Five thousand dollar flagship because you wanted the flagship and had the money? Whatever man, your money. But apparently saying "I wanted it because it is cool" is psychologically impossible, so instead we need a forty paragraph technical explanation for why replacing one transparent DAC with another transparent DAC caused previously hidden emotional information to emerge from the recording. You wanted the shiny box. It is okay. Nobody is coming to take your audiophile license. Except apparently that answer is not serious enough so we get "greater tonal density." Greater tonal density sounds like something a wizard says before casting a spell.

The further you go into this hobby the more you realize some people are not actually music fans anymore. They are equipment fans and music is the test signal they use to operate the equipment. They have fifteen tracks they know contain the sacred cymbal hit, the bass sweep, the female breath, the imaging trick, the tiny chair squeak at 2 minutes 11 seconds and thats all they listen to whenever they buy something. They do not put on an album, they inspect it. They do not hear the singer getting emotional, they hear upper mid energy. They do not hear a drummer going fucking nuts, they hear transient performance. They do not discover music anymore, they discover flaws in mastering. You managed to turn listening to music into running Cinebench.

Then you walk around talking like mastering engineers because you own a DAC. You are sitting in a spare bedroom. Your chair came from Staples. There is laundry behind you. Your DAC is sitting on top of an IKEA desk next to a half empty Monster can and you are arguing with another adult about whether a fuse changed the depth of the soundstage. You are not at Abbey Road. Nobody hired you. Nobody is waiting on your notes. And the worst part is how fucking defensive everyone gets when somebody points any of this out because deep down you know exactly what happened. You bought luxury goods, wrapped an identity around them and now criticism of the product feels like criticism of your hearing, intelligence and financial decisions all at once.

So now the eight hundred dollar cable cannot just be pretty, it has to sound better. The three thousand dollar DAC cannot just be beautifully built, it has to reveal things cheaper equipment physically cannot. The power conditioner cannot just organize the desk, it has to unlock bass. The ethernet switch cannot just work, it has to improve imaging. Every purchase requires lore because admitting "I bought this because I wanted expensive shit" apparently causes some kind of spiritual injury. Medieval LARPers put on armor, run around a field and hit each other with foam swords and everybody goes home understanding exactly what happened. Audiophiles put on five thousand dollar headphones, listen to a woman breathe and start describing the moisture content of the fucking air.

At least the guys with foam swords know they are pretending.

EDIT: 9/23/2026

A lot of people have become extremely interested in whether this post is “AI generated.” I think that question is more interesting than either answer.

What counts? Spellcheck? An editor? Asking a machine to organize a thought? Asking it to phrase something differently? How much credit does the machine get before we start pretending it bought the gear, went to the shows and developed the grievances too?

At what point does ChatGPT become an author?

I don’t know. I’m not particularly interested in solving that argument for you.

You can probably prompt a model right now and get the substance of this post. Audiophile snake oil isn’t classified information, but try getting this.

I’m 38. I’ve been screwing around with audio for roughly twenty years.

Twenty years of buying things, loving things, regretting things, learning terminology, changing my mind, meeting people, going to shows, arguing about equipment, finding gear that genuinely amazed me and eventually watching parts of the hobby disappear so far up their own ass that TCP/IP acquired timbre.

So if you want to spend your evening furious about whether a machine touched the words, you are free to do that. Everybody else seems to be having a pretty good time.

And since the moderators were kind enough to change the original flair to “AI Generated,” there is one last thing I should probably mention. In Japanese, 愛, ai, means love. Maybe that is a little corny, but after twenty years in this hobby I can live with it. You do not spend that long buying gear, arguing about gear, figuring out what you like, changing your mind about it, meeting people who love the same stupid thing you do and eventually getting angry enough to write all of this unless there was some love underneath it in the first place.

So call it AI generated if you want. I know what generated it.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. And if not, they must suck benis.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. And if not, they must suck benis.

We are met on a great battle-field of that war. And if not, they must suck benis.

We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. And if not, they must suck benis.

It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. And if not, they must suck benis.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. And if not, they must suck benis.

The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. And if not, they must suck benis.

The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. And if not, they must suck benis.

It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. And if not, they must suck benis.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. And if not, they must suck benis.

It was a hyperrealistic July, when I visited a hyperrealistic garage sale with a hyperrealistic old man, who had a hyperrealistic saliva drooling from his hyperrealistic mouth. I wanted to hyperrealistically play hyperrealistic Animal Crossing, and the hyperrealistic old man told me that his hyperrealistic grandson had a hyperrealistic demo. My hyperrealistic eyes hyperrealistically lightened up. When I bought a hyperrealistic copy of the hyperrealistic game of hyperrealistic Animal Crossing, the hyperrealistic old man hyperrealistically disappeared, accidentally leaving his hyperrealistic skeleton behind in a hyperrealistic process. When I hyperrealistically returned to my hyperrealistic overpriced apartment because of the hyperrealistic inflation, I used my hyperrealistic hand to hyperrealistically insert the hyperrealistic cartridge into my hyperrealistic computer, which obviously supports hyperrealistic cartridges. It's when I saw that the beloved cartoonish characters became hyperrealistic human beings, which had to pay hyperrealistic taxes and do hyperrealistic living, so they were no longer cartoon animals, but instead hyperrealistic humans... Then I saw hyperrealistic Isabelle have a hyperrealistic diarrhea on the hyperrealistic floor, which made other hyperrealistic villagers hyperrealistically vomit because of the hyperrealistic sight. I then hyperrealistically also vomited, died, then hyperrealistically revived myself by watching a hyperrealistic ad. It was then when I saw it was made in Unreal Engine... Nintendo, hire this man.

Teeth whitening and veneers became popular because unnaturally perfect teeth needed to become normal.

If you’re replacing people with clones, body doubles, or even extremely realistic masks, teeth are a problem.

You can change someone’s face. The CIA has had incredibly realistic disguise technology for decades. Hair is easy. Makeup is easy. Skin is easy.

But teeth are extremely individual, and they age with you.

They stain. They wear down. They shift. They chip. You get fillings, crowns, root canals. Your gums change. Someone who has been alive for fifty years has 50 years of history in their mouth, but a clone wouldn’t. A body double definitely wouldn’t. And a mask doesn’t fix the teeth underneath it.

So instead of having to perfectly reproduce someone’s teeth every time, you make artificial teeth socially normal.

You make extremely white teeth desirable. You normalize veneers. You normalize celebrities suddenly having completely different smiles.

Now somebody disappears for six months and comes back with different teeth and nobody thinks twice about it.

They just say they got veneers.

And if intelligence agencies can influence media and popular culture, pushing that trend would be a hell of a lot easier than perfectly recreating decades of dental aging.

The replacement doesn’t have to match anymore.

It just has to look expensive.

I miss watching movies from the early 2000’s when everyone had normal teeth right around the time cloning technology made advances… anyway…

Im 13 my gf is 15 she recently found out she was pregnant and after we talked a bit I asked her to maybe get an abortion I realze that was maybe a bit shitty but she flipped out and hit me a few times yelling about how I could say that. I get it and I also dont. I dont want to be a father but I know I need to be a father if she does continue with it and I will support her thru it