Disdain not thy mother, who provideth thy tendies, nor thy weakly father, who drave thee not from thy pit! 'Tis thy shame, o failson!
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I see a rider in a white garment! He carrieth in one hand a job application, and in the other a phone with texts from a GF!
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His eyne are burnished bronze, and his feet are made of snow! O failson, O incel! thou shalt not escape his burning wrath!
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Thou shalt labor for thy wage, and thou shalt find a gf, or else the pain of gout shall cramp thy toes!
End of conversation
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