https://finance.yahoo.com/news/minnesota-bankruptcy-law-firm-files-121300788.html

To me the actually fun part was that some of my black guy friends liked this post

All of us are ambiently aware of who the cast is here (), the article is decent to fill in the gaps if you haven't checked in for like a decade, and if it's been longer since you cared this listicle goes back to 2011. Here's the article's summary of grievances against drake:

Drake has often behaved like an actual king, using other artists to prop up his image and his credibility and even actual music, sending out cease and desists for all sorts of reasons, stealing women, talking shit behind closed doors

This is the level of 4d chess they be operating on:

I don't recommend listening to any of this particularly, but shitty millennial rap feels like the 2000s so I had fun reviewing them. The tracks vaguely in order (YT links):

Future snipes at Drake on an album, this track has Kendrick joining in

Rick Ross calls Drake a yt boi

While waiting for Drake, J Cole does some dumb shit

Future releases a second album on the same topic, this track has The Weeknd

Drake shoots back

Kendrick executes Drake

P.S. Kanye is sorta back, he's still blacklisted by the media but he's selling clothes and releasing albums, I refuse to figure out if it's good.

It Chapter One

Altogether a pretty cool film. Some characters were too one dimensional such as the bad dad whose only personality traits were either creepy or angry. And the 80s kids riding around on bikes thing was . But the impressive parts were that it didn't rely on cheap tricks to be spooky. I liked how they still managed to have scary scenes even while it was daylight and while the characters were surrounded by other people, opposed to the usual getting split up in the darkness.

It Chapter Two

This one was odd. The first mistake they made was that they just copypasted the personalities of a bunch of 13 year olds onto middle aged adults. Apparently no one grew up or changed or anything in 27 years. Eddie was especially weird to watch. His character came across like some parody of a teenage girl in the skin of a 40 year old man.

The second mistake is that they noticed that people liked Richie's jokes from the first film and did what shitty writers always do: completely miss the point of what makes that character funny and just have him spew stupid one liners for the whole film. idk if they noticed Marvel's success at that time or what but all the misplaced jokes had the same effect they do in Marvel films. They completely kill the tension, or generally flatten emotion so every scene feels silly and superficial.

I don't think the creator must have actually had any adult relationships in his life because the whole dynamic between the characters was weird. The tone was all over the place, romantic scenes out of nowhere, stupid jokes every few lines, deaths taking a whole two minutes to get over before everyone's happy and laughing again and etc

They attempted the spooky scenes in daylight again but failed to build any tension so it wasn't scary at all and felt more like watching Ghostbusters or something.

Pennywise as a villain is a cool character and was acted well but was kind of wasted in this one.

wtf man

JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL

(Kept in shorthand.)

4 May.—I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German. This could not be true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he did. He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further. It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask any one else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means comforting.

Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a very hysterical way:

"Must you go? Oh! young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again:

"Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of May. She shook her head as she said again:

"Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?" On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:

"It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I therefore tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go. She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me. I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind. She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my neck, and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of the room. I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for the coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round my neck. Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual. If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. Here comes the coach!

https://chroniclesmagazine.org/web/remember-us-how-to-fight-media-bombholing/

https://archive.ph/znGUj

2020 Olympic gold medalist Gable Steveson released from WWE https://t.co/7RtewoSpdE

— MMA Fighting (@MMAFighting) May 4, 2024

lol, did he even do anything in the WWE? i remember it being a big deal whether he'd go into MMA or wrestling and then heard absolutely nothing about him until today

!marks

Weaving heedlessly through traffic, Pizzashill cursed the incompetent rightoids that polluted the streets of Eastern Oregon with their late-model F-150s and ridiculous, oversized SUVs. "The fools!" he thought, "do they have any idea how shitty their gas millage is in a vehicle like that?"

Cutting off another Ford Explorer, he inwardly congratulated himself again on his shrewd acquisition of such an economical vehicle: His off-white 2002 Honda Civic had only 220,000 miles and moderate rust damage; the entire purchase price had been less than the monthly payment would be on the Range Rover he'd just swerved in front of. "Psh," he thought to himself, "as though rightards could comprehend a concept as sophisticated as interest rates. Why, at 4.95% APR on a $100,000 SUV, that means every month they'd be pissing away almost..." here he performed some quick mental arithmetic "...a fuckload of money," he concluded, reflecting warmly once again on his prudence.

bzzz

The mobile phone on his dashboard – a refurbished Samsung Galaxy S6 with a Boost Mobile SIM card – vibrated to indicate a new message. No time to check it, he was almost there. Accelerating into the final turn, he yanked the wheel hard to the left, ignoring the angry horns of the other drivers. Centrifugal forces – "Imaginary, just like sexism," @pizzashill reminded himself – tossed his phone across the dashboard and hard into the window with a loud thonk.

bzzz

The phone buzzed again as it dropped into the passenger footwell.

Slowing as he approached the enormous warehouse looming in front of him, an ominous, windowless concrete structure, Pizzashill ignored the arrhythmic rattling from his car's exhaust system and casually brandished his blue staff ID badge (that's right, blue for management) at the RFID scanner to his left. With a cheerful beep and a green light, the scanner registered his arrival and the automated barrier lifted to allow him to pass. As always at this moment, Pizzashill felt a momentary flash of triumph, "The King is back, baby" he mused silently.

bzzz

Yet another notification sounded from the damp mat on the floor of the passenger footwell. He was progressing deliberately through the ranks of stationary vehicles, judging their owners for their fiscal profligacy while cursing them for their fortuitous parking. "If only they'd give managers a designated lot," he thought to himself, not for the first time, "It's outrageous that I have to compete for spaces with these wagies who answer to me."

bzzz

Again! What could possibly be so important? "I swear to god, if I have to to explain to Poj one more time how to reset the robot vacuum, I'll have a half a mind to – no, no, not that. Remember, she's only a woman. She's doing the best she can with her limited capacities," he reminded himself, gently steering his thoughts away from domestic violence. Finally, he found a spot between two large pickup trucks and brought the Honda to a halt.

Switching off the ignition, he fumbled for moment in the footwell to recover his phone and glanced at the screen. Three text messages and a voice memo, all from @Poj.

"hey a bunch of strange men in black SUVs are on our street" @7:53 am

"oh my god, I think they have guns." @7:54 am

"Pizza, it's the actual glowies, they say they have a warrant" @7:57 am.

His heart sank in his chest. "Shit," he thought, "I always knew this day might come." Steeling himself, he pressed play on the voice memo. Poj's panic-stricken voice filled the car's beige, lightly stained interior:

"Oh my god! oh my god! I hope you get this message. The FBI are here, they're everywhere! There's so many guys, they're searching everything! They've taken the ham stocks. They took the Pokémon cards. I tried to get them to keep the door shut so Pudding didn't escape and they said, 'Ma'am, you're lucky we don't confiscate that tubby cat as evidence, too.' What's going on, Pizza? I'm so scared right now! What should I do?"

"Shit (again)," he thought a second time. So this really was it. After everything he'd worked for, everything he'd built, this was how his empire would come crumbling down?

No. Not like this. Not a chance, he wasn't going down that easy. Not Pizzashill.

"Don't say anything," he texted back, "Tell them you want a lawyer. Remember, glowies are just IRL jannies. Remember what we talked about that one night? I love you, babe."

Like a gladiator preparing to enter the arena, knowing full well he had almost no chance of coming out alive, he suited up: steel toed boots for the warehouse floor, neon high-vis vest, blue ID badge clipped to his lanyard. He jiggled the sticky door handle of the Honda three times to get it to open, and stepped out into the crisp spring air.

He strode toward the entrance of the building with purpose. Pizzashill knew he had only one card left to play, but damned if those dumb feds hadn't just activated his trap card.