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🔞The Emperor's (Horny) Crusader🔞
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🔞The Emperor's (Horny) Crusader🔞
@emperor_servant
NSFW, Mainly replies and retweets of lewds. Seriously, run away now and don't follow if you have issues with barely clad or total naked 2d,3d, real life babes.
Holy Terra, Imperium of man Katılım Ocak 2020
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5/6(水)12:00〜10thDVDリリイベ
チケットこちら↓🎟️
passmarket.yahoo.co.jp/event/show/det…
2着目の衣装はDVDで実際着用したこの変形水着着るよ🫶このきわどさ超えることは今後ないレベルだけど🥹10thだし?!みんな来てね〜!!

日本語
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@annhybri People were passing out just from standing still.
English
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That bag has a name. It's a bindle. And in the 1930s, about 250,000 American teenagers actually packed one and walked out the door to ride freight trains, looking for work after the crash wiped out their families' savings.
They were called boxcar boys and girls. Many were just 16 or 17. They left because there was no food at home, or because they didn't want to be another mouth their parents couldn't feed. One boy left home with the 72 cents his mother pulled from her purse, the last of her money. About 4 million Americans were on the road in those years.
The cartoon image we know traces back to two artists. Charlie Chaplin's Tramp character, the little guy in baggy pants with a stick, debuted in 1914. He became a global icon. Walt Disney later said Chaplin was one of the inspirations for Mickey Mouse. Then in 1958, Norman Rockwell painted a runaway boy carrying a bindle for the Saturday Evening Post cover. That picture is the one that stuck in our heads.
The actual life behind the bag was hard. People who lived it called themselves hobos, and they were strict about the word. A hobo was a worker who traveled. A tramp only worked when he had to. A bum didn't work at all. Hobos hated being mixed up with the other two.
They followed the harvests. Strawberries in spring, hops in summer, apples in fall, potatoes in winter. Pay was a few dollars a day, sometimes less.
Riding freight trains was illegal and could kill you. Railroad police, who they called bulls, beat them off the cars. You could slip and get crushed between cars. Or freeze to death sleeping in a boxcar in winter. A British poet named W.H. Davies, who wrote a memoir called The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp, lost his foot trying to jump onto a moving train.
So they built their own world. Their camps near rail yards were called jungles. They shared a stew called Mulligan, where everyone threw in a potato, or a piece of meat, or whatever they had. They left messages for each other on water tanks: a nickname, a date, and the direction they were heading, so the next person passing through could see who had been there. They had a phrase for someone who died on the road. He caught the Westbound.
In 1900, a town in Iowa called Britt, with about 2,000 people, decided to host them. Every August since, hobos and rail riders show up to crown a Hobo King and Queen, with crowns made from coffee cans. The convention is still running. There's a Hobo Memorial Cemetery in Britt for the ones who caught the Westbound.
The cartoon turned it into a childhood dream. For a quarter-million American kids in the 1930s, it was just the bag you grabbed before walking out the door.
⊹ ࣪ pam ˖✦@pamvonhadder
The childhood dream to pull one of these and leave the house mysteriously
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