Infinite Null

@BGatesIsaPyscho Start making tick traps. Attract tbe ticks, burn them enmass. Get Guineas. Burn any corpses you find covered in ticks. Spray this stuff regularly on your property.

Sick of people choosing a side between muslim and jews. Take the easy option and hate both, they both hate you.

Nope. I’m good.

Should You Always Press The Handbrake Button

It means that when unworthy or mediocre people start gaining huge influence and attention, it often means a society, organization, business, or civilization is entering decline

@Jason731499 Absolutely perfect music choice.

This is the real reason we all have to pay such absurdly high taxes! 👇👇👇

In Texas my phone screamed in capital letters. A hurricane was coming. I set my sword by the door. I have read what happens to nations when the sky falls, and I intended to be on the correct side of my own door when it did. My neighbor Travis was loading a cooler into his truck. Beer, mostly, and one enormous bag of ice, and a folding chair, which struck me as a strange arsenal. "You good, man? We're doing a cookout at the church after." After. He was planning the party on the far side of the storm. I asked who would guard the food when the shelves went empty. "H-E-B's got it." I assumed H-E-B was a general. I was not certain — the name had the shape of initials, the way important men sign documents — but Travis said it the way you say a general's name, so that is what I wrote in my notebook. The next morning I saw the convoy, and I want to be clear that I was right. Red trucks. I tried to count them and lost count somewhere past thirty, which shames me, but they kept coming. A kitchen on wheels. A pharmacy on wheels, which I refused to believe until I watched a man in an apron hand a woman her heart medication next to a pallet of bread. I asked Travis which branch of the army this was. "That's the grocery store, man." In my land, a merchant's duty ends at the register. Here the grocery store has a disaster division, and it arrives before the government, and nobody finds this remarkable except me. I later learned what H-E-B stands for. Howard E. Butt. A man's name. I want it recorded that I did not laugh. By then I had seen what the man's store could do, and you do not laugh at a general. At the church a woman in a red shirt handed me a hot meal. I reached for my wallet and she looked at me the way you look at a man being rude. "Put that away, sugar. We're neighbors." So I joined the line instead, passing cases of water, and a stranger handed me gloves and called me brother, and somewhere in that line I stopped taking notes. I remembered 2011. When the sea came for my country, ships crossed an ocean flying your flag, and your sailors dug through our rubble, and your government gave the operation a Japanese name. Tomodachi. Friend. I used to think it was a small word for such a large ship. The storm was strong. Storms are always strong. But the storm came alone. Texas did not.

😎

To a Roman, drinking milk was the mark of a savage. A proper Roman ate his grain, pressed his olives, watered his wine. The tribes to the north drank milk by the mugful and ate their butter and curds, and that alone settled it. Barbarians. The dairy was the proof. They wrote it down. Caesar was appalled at how much milk the Britons put away. Strabo sneered at the Celts for the same. Tacitus called the German diet crude and singled out their taste for curdled milk. Pliny dismissed butter as the choicest food among barbarian tribes, a thing Rome kept about the house as a salve for burns rather than a food. Eating animal fat instead of grain was, to Rome, close to the definition of a lesser people. Now set that beside what those milk-drinkers actually were. The same barbarians dwarfed the Romans who mocked them. Tacitus, mid-sneer, stops to describe their enormous frames. They had sacked Rome once already and would come back to do it again. They worked gold and metal the Mediterranean could not match. And in the end it was the butter-eaters and the milk-drinkers who walked through the gates and finished the empire that had called their food primitive. The civilised men ate their grain and lost. The savages drank their milk and won. We are running the script again. Milk is primitive. Butter clogs your arteries. Educated modern people know better than to eat like that, said with the exact confidence of a Roman explaining why only savages would touch the stuff. Rome is not here to tell us how that confidence aged.

Once his voice kicks in though 😎

Ladies, I know we’re annoying or whatever, but when we start talking like this just listen All will become clear shortly

And then I saw the bun. 😂 Well played, QT! 👏👏

THE VIDEO GOT TO PRESIDENT TRUMP!!! He just reposted it! The beginning of BYE BYE FAKE NEWS!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸💥💥💥🥳🥳 well done Elly!

This American guy moved in with a Japanese host family and accidentally turned their house into a non-stop drinking party! He thought he had to finish every pour (because that’s polite, right?), so the whole family kept drinking with him — beer for breakfast and lunch, sake all night, until everyone was sloppy. He was even lit at Hiroshima Peace Park. Turns out the real etiquette is to leave a little in your glass to signal you’re done. The moment he finally did it, the whole family cheered like he’d just saved them. The language barrier was strong… but the drinking was stronger. Have you ever had a hilarious cultural misunderstanding like this?

@daveatherton This is how I want all Pakistani rapists sent back to Pakistani. I want them all interviewed on TV thanking the UK government for removing their testicles and sparing their lives.