The sandwich community must have been outraged.
You know you're a POS when you have zero doubt in your mind that invading another country is okay, and you refuse to hear out anyone that believes it may have been a very poor/internationally immoral choice. Or you are when you are so rife with corruption you don't want to accept responsibility for stealing millions from your country to build yourself a nicer mansion.
I would rather have been a terrible storm, a great wave to crush a coastline, a rampaging tornado, or a furious volcano.
Someone needs to write a story about the Headless Horseman as an undead superhero who always forgets he's missing his head. He'll keep trying to head butt people or whistle for his horse, only to remember that he doesn't have a head. It'd start off with him writing a book about the inconvenience of being headless and follow his misadventures on his quest to find out where it went. All the while, he's battling people who want to take over the world or steal his head. He'll have great, heroic monologues in sign language that only get translated when someone else or the villain happen to know sign language. He also has to hide from everyday people because of the stigma created by the events in the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, which he swears (in sign language) to the authorities are terribly misinterpreted. People try to re-kill him, exorcise him, and capture him, etc. Demons and other undead try to take him back to the underworld. Aliens and super villains keep trying to destroy the planet. All he wants is to find his head and be able to enjoy a beer or two at the bar down the street from his apartment.
Whoever wrote this has no idea how right they are.
Valuable lesson perhaps…
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Friend of mine put this on my Facebook a long time ago and tagged me as the guy walking as a joke. Funny thing is he may have been right about something I never noticed until now. Everything I see is ruin, and I walk alone. Not for want of trying otherwise; just every time I put myself out there and look to change from this picture, my life falls apart, and I begin to lose my identity. Maybe it's karma. Maybe I just can't break from myself. Maybe somewhere in those barren visions is the answer I'm looking for.
The only thing you should be worried about is this question I'm about to ask you: Who wants a taco?
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