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Yup, if thou do'est I may. Of sun which shines on hexagonial moons of yesteryear to and fro. Of lust and light which shines exponentially in the myriad of absurdness that bellows from the loins of the dragon beast. Is thou a purist of thine own kind? Is fate but e taf of irony? Proudest of the west wing flowing from the locks on a blonde dame, I beckon and chime with the lighting rods of our culture. Do'est though agree with those that falter in the sheer presense of tigers? Or the owls that perch beneath the sea of guilt that harkens one's soul to depth of disparity in wisdom and truth from beyond the grave? Do not hesistate for time is of the essense. Free yourselves of the shackles of distrust. Manage thine stable and do unto as unto do'eth unto you and yours. I rest now, we shall commence once again in twelve and a half moons when buffalos kick pig skins and cowboys flirt with red faced people.
Who are you again?
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Yup, if thou do'est I may. Of sun which shines on hexagonial moons of yesteryear to and fro. Of lust and light which shines exponentially in the myriad of absurdness that bellows from the loins of the dragon beast. Is thou a purist of thine own kind? Is fate but e taf of irony? Proudest of the west wing flowing from the locks on a blonde dame, I beckon and chime with the lighting rods of our culture. Do'est though agree with those that falter in the sheer presense of tigers? Or the owls that perch beneath the sea of guilt that harkens one's soul to depth of disparity in wisdom and truth from beyond the grave? Do not hesistate for time is of the essense. Free yourselves of the shackles of distrust. Manage thine stable and do unto as unto do'eth unto you and yours. I rest now, we shall commence once again in twelve and a half moons when buffalos kick pig skins and cowboys flirt with red faced people.
I have more posts than you.
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Yup, if thou do'est I may. Of sun which shines on hexagonial moons of yesteryear to and fro. Of lust and light which shines exponentially in the myriad of absurdness that bellows from the loins of the dragon beast. Is thou a purist of thine own kind? Is fate but e taf of irony? Proudest of the west wing flowing from the locks on a blonde dame, I beckon and chime with the lighting rods of our culture. Do'est though agree with those that falter in the sheer presense of tigers? Or the owls that perch beneath the sea of guilt that harkens one's soul to depth of disparity in wisdom and truth from beyond the grave? Do not hesistate for time is of the essense. Free yourselves of the shackles of distrust. Manage thine stable and do unto as unto do'eth unto you and yours. I rest now, we shall commence once again in twelve and a half moons when buffalos kick pig skins and cowboys flirt with red faced people.
Representing the entire FCP community, I have to say this: OK, we give. What's up?
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