That one day every person in this nation will control their OWN destiny. A land of the TRULY free, dammit! A nation of ACTION, not words, ruled by STRENGTH, not committee! Where the law changes to suit the individual, not the other way around. Where power and justice are back where they belong: in the hands of the people! Where every man is free to think -- to act -- for himself! [Armstrong beats Raiden to punctuate every statement.] ♥♥♥♥ all these limp-♥♥♥♥ lawyer and chicken-♥♥♥♥ bureaucrats. ♥♥♥♥ this 24/7 Internet spew of trivia and celebrity ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥. ♥♥♥♥ American pride. ♥♥♥♥ the media! ♥♥♥♥ all of it! America is diseased. Rotten to the core. There's no saving it -- we need to pull it out by the roots. Wipe the slate clean. BURN IT DOWN! And from the ashes a new America will be born. Evolved, but untamed! The weak will be purged and the strongest will thrive free to live as they see fit, they'll make America great again!

Hey guys I'm not sporty I ♥♥♥♥ dudes in the ass. I accidentally clicked this thread because I thought my mouse was hovered over the hot indian twink thread. Well, since I'm here I had a question let's say hypothetically I had football thoughts (lol yea right) and I found my local team attractive (ew gross) and one day we had football practice in the back of my car after prolapsing my anus (I would puke...the only thing I bang is dudes with big dad bods you know what I'm saying lol) but we didn't talk about the offside rule. Would that be sporty? We were wasted and while we were watching spurs we kept talking in mockney accents. It's almost like a parody of when we joke about jocks (remember this didn't happen). So that wouldn't make me sporty right? Just a ♥♥♥♥♥♥?

Hey guys I'm not gay, I play football. I accidentally clicked this thread because I thought my mouse was hovered over the hot girls thread. Well, since I'm here I had a question let's say hypothetically I had gay thoughts (lol yea right) and I found my close friend attractive (ew gross) and one day we had sex in the back of my car after football practice (I would puke...the only thing I bang is chicks with big tits you know what I'm saying lol) but we didn't kiss. Would that be gay? We were wasted and while we were banging we kept calling each other ♥♥♥♥. It's almost like a parody of when we bang chicks (remember this didn't happen). So that wouldn't make me gay right? Just a jokester?

BEEP

steam is giving me a sticker for peeping yo butt.

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“Follow me to our bed, melethron,” he beckoned.

Our bed, Picard repeated in his mind. The words surprised him but it also hearkened to a budding love growing stronger.

Elrond’s rain-cloud gray eyes watched Picard unblinkingly as if keeping him in a frozen moment of time that the captain would not escape from easily. Elrond began by unwrapping his tunic, baring his torso in the dim torchlight. He still straddled the captain on the divan, letting his bulging length still rub against Picard’s.

The elf could see Picard’s gaze take his half-naked form in, learning his contours by sight that he had mapped over clothing before. As soon as the green irises dropped to below his waistline, Elrond moved over Picard’s body like a serpent and sharply nibbled at a peeked nipple. A hiss of pleasure slipped through Picard’s lips when Elrond whispered into his ear.

Buttons quickly came undone as Elrond’s free hand removed Picard’s shirt. More fingers felt Picard’s heated skin over his stomach and chest, the healing hands that had once tended to his wounds now felt like tickling volts of pleasure in the same places. More kisses continued as Elrond’s lips headed down Picard’s neck and over his chest. An uncontrolled cry of Elrond’s name resounded in the room, bouncing off the walls as the elf smiled wickedly over his lover. Whimpered sounds that Picard hardly recognized as his own called upon Elrond to finish the task he had started, but he caught his breath as he watched the elf-lord disrobe on top of him.

Picard’s hips arched toward the elf as Elrond’s hand skillfully unlaced the captain’s pants in seconds and skipped underneath. The first stroke brought incredible heat flashing through Picard’s body, fingertips lightly toying against the sensitive flesh before taking Picard’s arousal completely in a tight grasp. Crying out into Elrond’s mouth, his ecstasy muffled by more plundering kisses, Picard bit tantalizingly onto Elrond’s bottom lip as each stroke sent his mind reeling out of control.

Another shudder involuntarily racked Picard as Elrond pressed against him. The telltale bulge in the elf’s leggings stood out between them, especially with the weight it had against Picard’s thigh. The realization Picard had in knowing Elrond’s amount of enjoyment also increased his mind’s lustful meanderings. He did not pull away as the elf rocked against him, but rather let himself fall under the spell Elrond was conjuring around them. It was when Elrond pressed his groin against Picard’s quickly hardening length that the captain expressed fully his want to not stop through a loud moan.

“Let yourself be mine,” Elrond whispered huskily in his ear. “And I, yours.”

Finding his wits, Picard eased back and began his own ministrations to please Elrond. His dark locks felt like strands of Tholian silk flowing between Picard’s fingers. Unexpectedly Elrond’s hands roved over Picard’s body, their dancing touches electrified Picard’s senses as Elrond wandered from Picard’s neck to his chest. A sharp intake of breath from the captain brought a pleased moan from Elrond as one of his wandering palms cupped underneath Picard’s backside.

The reaction was more shock than an intrusion to Picard. The boundaries they both had kept and occasionally ventured close to had been broken completely with the brazen move Elrond had made. Having received no act of disapproval or reprimand, Elrond went further by clutching Picard with his fingers, pulling at the fabric of his slacks to feel what was underneath.

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Step 1: Highlight all numbers.
Step 2: Click ctrl F.
Step 3: Click 8 once.
Step 4: You'll see what it says.

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/　ﾉ⌒＿⌒ゝーく　 ＼　／
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　　 `ヽ `ー-‘人`ーﾉ /
　　　 丶 ￣ _人’彡ﾉ
　　　／｀ヽ _/\__' \

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You've been visited by the fedora of mystery and autism! Tip yours to a friend or you'll be haunted by the spirit of fashionable wear.

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: : : : : : :, : : : : :/ . . Arms. . . \: : : : : :,: : : : : :

Honesty is the recognition of the fact that the unreal is unreal and can have no value, that neither love nor fame nor cash is a value if obtained by fraud-that an attempt to gain a value by deceiving the mind of others is an act of raising your victims to a position higher than reality, where you become a pawn of their blindness, a slave of their non-thinking and their evasions, while their intelligence, their rationality, their perceptiveness become the enemies you have to dread and flee-that you do not care to live as a dependent, least of all a dependent on the stupidity of others, or as a fool whose source of values is the fools he succeeds in fooling-that honesty is not a social duty, not a sacrifice for the sake of others, but the most profoundly selfish virtue man can practice: his refusal to sacrifice the reality of his own existence to the deluded consciousness of others.

An animal is equipped for sustaining its life; its senses provide it with an automatic code of action, an automatic knowledge of what is good for it or evil. It has no power to extend its knowledge or to evade it. In conditions where its knowledge proves inadequate, it dies. But so long as it lives, it acts on its knowledge, with automatic safety and no power of choice, it is unable to ignore its own good, unable to decide to choose the evil and act as its own destroyer.

No, you do not have to live as a man; it is an act of moral choice. But you cannot live as anything else-and the alternative is that state of living death which you now see within you and around you, the state of a thing unfit for existence, no longer human and less than animal, a thing that knows nothing but pain and drags itself through its span of years in the agony of unthinking self-destruction.

Man's mind is his basic tool of survival. Life is given to him, survival is not. His body is given to him, its sustenance is not. His mind is given to him, its content is not. To remain alive, he must act, and before he can act he must know the nature and purpose of his action. He cannot obtain his food without a knowledge of food and of the way to obtain it. He cannot dig a ditch-or build a cyclotron-without a knowledge of his aim and of the means to achieve it. To remain alive, he must think.

Yes, this is an age of moral crisis. Yes, you are bearing punishment for your evil. But it is not man who is now on trial and it is not human nature that will take the blame. It is your moral code that's through, this time. Your moral code has reached its climax, the blind alley at the end of its course. And if you wish to go on living, what you now need is not to return to morality-you who have never known any-but to discover it.

"All the men who have vanished, the men you hated, yet dreaded to lose, it is I who have taken them away from you. Do not attempt to find us. We do not choose to be found. Do not cry that it is our duty to serve you. We do not recognize such duty. Do not cry that you need us. We do not consider need a claim. Do not cry that you own us. You don't. Do not beg us to return. We are on strike, we, the men of the mind.

"For twelve years, you have been asking: Who is John Galt? This is John Galt speaking. I am the man who loves his life. I am the man who does not sacrifice his love or his values. I am the man who has deprived you of victims and thus has destroyed your world, and if you wish to know why you are perishing-you who dread knowledge-I am the man who will now tell you." The chief engineer was the only one able to move; he ran to a television set and struggled frantically with its dials. But the screen remained empty; the speaker had not chosen to be seen. Only his voice filled the airways of the country-of the world, thought the chief engineer-sounding as if he were speaking here, in this room, not to a group, but to one man; it was not the tone of addressing a meeting, but the tone of addressing a mind.

Hy_C End your ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ turn.

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