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Yea, for the Denver Broncos are Football Now and Forever


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rules of denver.png
The Denver Broncos
John Elway
Moderator
No.1
1415
This is a board for the discussion of Football, the Denver Broncos, and John Elway.

The Denver Broncos are themselves Football, and John Elway is The Denver Broncos. This Divine Trinity is at the center of our faith. Do not forget the words of the Prophet Elway, conceived by Dan Reeves, born of the Lady Dash, the alpha and the omega, the first and the last:

Know thee that I am Elway. Look upon my glory and know that none of thee are worthy of Football. However, the Denver Broncos are merciful, and Football is Love and Life itself. And so, unworthy as thou art, Football has nonetheless chosen to shine its countenance upon thee. Heed now the Word and Commandments of the almighty Elway:

>Thou shalt have no other gods before Football
>Blasphemy against the Denver Broncos shall not be tolerated
>Honor thy Elway and thy Football
>Thou shalt not bear false testimony against football
>The name of the Oakland Raiders shall not be mentioned here
>Football is Love
>Football is Life

Fluffy Pony Game .png
Fluffy Pony Nuuu Give Owies!.png
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Fluffy Pony Cycwops.png
Fluffy Pony House Fire.png
Fluffy Pony Abuse Thread
Anonymous
No.534
535 536 538 593 11946 152516
Seeing a fluffy pony thread on /mlp/ that didn't include these stupid fucking little ponies being tortured to death really triggered me.

Please help me feel better.
178 replies and 102 files omitted.
Anonymous
No.23521
23522
>>23520

I don’t know how these creatures manage to do it, but somehow their bodies can hold easily ten times their own mass in feces, and Faggot launched all of his at once. The explosion from his butt had the effect of a rocket booster, and propelled the screeching foal from one end of the bathtub to the other. He collided nose-first with the wall of the tub with a soft thud, and the ricochet combined with his still-firing “scaredy poopies” sent him into a spin. He was now gurgling his own shit in addition to the scalding hot bathwater, and though his screams were mostly incoherent noise now, I was pretty sure I could make out phrases like “poopy wawa nu smew pwetty” and “smew pwace haf biggest huwties.” By now I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to make “poopies” myself. Will Heather miss one of these things if it suddenly “disappears?” I wondered to myself. My guess was probably yes; she was pretty devoted to her fluffies. However, if I wasn’t going to get laid for the foreseeable future one way or the other, I may as well get some enjoyment out of this thing. First, though, I was going to need to do something about the constant shitting, or else this was going to turn into a pretty messy business.

Leaving the foal to flail around in the now-filthy water, I went to the kitchen and pulled open the utility drawer. We had quite a few things in here that looked like they might be fun for working out aggression on a fluffy, but in the end I settled on a pair of needle-nose pliers and a tube of Krazy-Glue.

Back in the bathtub, Faggot was still flailing around trying to swim. He had stopped shitting, but the water looked like it was mostly shit now anyway. He was starting to look weak, and I realized if I didn’t get him out of there in the next 60 seconds or so he would probably drown. Sighing, I reached my hand into the filthy water and grabbed the struggling foal.

“Whew, you’re fucking filthy!” I exclaimed, revolted by the slimy feel of the creature’s matted fluff. I tossed it into the sink. By now it had stopped talking, and had reverted to a series of peeps and chirps that I guess these things make when they get pushed past a certain stress level. I ignored the noises it made, and flipped on the faucet. Ice cold this time.

“SCREEEEEEEEEE!!!” cried the foal as the “wawa” splashed on him. He tried to run away from the stream, but I grabbed him and held him under, turning him over and over until most of the shit was rinsed out of his fluff. I did my best to clean my hands too. Fortunately, he seemed to have expelled most of the shit from his own body, because I didn’t see any more “scaredy poopies.” However, I wasn’t about to take any more chances.

“Alright, Faggot!” I said, picking up the shivering foal. It looked up at me with an unforgettable expression of hurt and bewilderment.

“W-why Daddeh huwt babbeh?” it said in a trembling voice. “Faggot wuv Daddeh!”

“Hey now,” I said, pretending to be upset. “I thought you said you WANTED to be in the Fluffy Aeronautics and Space Administration. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now?”

“Fwuffy nu wike dis game…” the foal said, its eyes turning downward.

“Well, I’m afraid it’s too late,” I said cheerfully. “You already signed a contract! FASA has invested too much money into your training for you to just up and quit!”

“Fwuffy nee mummah…”

“Sorry, ‘fwuffy’, but in space, your ‘mummah’ can’t hear you shit. Oh yeah, speaking of shit…”

I turned the foal upside down and grabbed the Krazy-Glue. Faggot once again began to wriggle and chirp in protest, but I held him firm. He let out a loud “screeeee” again as I squirted a generous glob of glue into his anus. Ignoring his protest, I continued drizzling the entire region until his asshole was sealed with the quick-drying substance. While I had him, I noticed that he also had a comically tiny little cock and balls. On impulse, I picked up the needle-nose pliers I’d also brought. Fuck you, fluffy, I thought to myself. If I’m not getting laid, you sure as shit won’t be either.

Without warning, I clamped the pliers down on his genitals. The look of terror followed by another “screeeeee” as the pincers closed was priceless. Even more priceless was the way his eyes seemed to bug out of their sockets when I gave a hard jerk of my wrist, and tore his fluffhood off with one deft movement.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

“Yeah, sorry about that, little buddy,” I said, casually flicking his tiny little wang and balls down the sink drain. There was a little ribbon of blood oozing out of the open wound, so I rinsed it off with another full-power blast from the faucet and closed it up with more Krazy-Glue. The foal was borderline-catatonic, but it looked at me when I began to speak again. There were tears in its eyes, and the expression of utter betrayal on its face almost made me physically erect.

“I didn’t want to have to castrate you,” I said pleasantly, drying the little shitrat off with a nearby towel. I made sure it was Heather’s towel; it was her fluffy, after all. “I begged the top brass to just let it slide this one time, but I’m afraid they were quite adamant about it. ‘No more dicks on our astronauts,’ they said; I guess it’s the new slogan. Wouldn’t have been my choice, but there you have it. It’s part of FASA policy now: only eunuchs and pregnant women are allowed to pilot spacecraft. New regulations; you can thank the Democrats for that one.”
Anonymous
No.23522
23523
>>23521

I was walking back down the hall. The still-damp, shivering foal was in my hand, staring fearfully up at me, softly hu-hu-hu-ing but otherwise quiet. I went into the kitchen.

“Anyway,” I continued, “The next portion of your training involves survival in sub-zero temperatures. You’re going to need a lot of stamina to survive in the freezing depths of outer space. Here’s your isolation chamber.”

I yanked open the door of the freezer and threw the foal inside. It chirped and peeped in alarm before colliding face-first with the wall and landing in the ice bucket. I could still hear it rattling around in the ice cubes as I slammed the door shut.

Whistling pleasantly, I grabbed a bucket of warm water, some soap, and a scrub brush, and got to work cleaning up the mess the little shitrat had left in the hallway. It was pretty disgusting work, but somehow I didn’t mind. Playing with Faggot had blown off a lot of steam; maybe there was something to this “fluff therapy” that my wife was reading about after all. These things were great stress relievers! I hadn’t felt this relaxed in years.

After the carpet and bathroom had been taken care of, I went and grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sat down to watch some television. I watched an episode or two of Sanford and Son on some high-number satellite channel that shows long-forgotten reruns, and pretty soon I’d forgotten all about my wife’s fluffy collection.

It was only when I stood up to get another beer that I noticed an odd sound coming from the refrigerator. I was half-buzzed, and for a moment I was a little confused.

“The fuck is wrong with this thing?” I muttered, and in a moment I realized it was coming from the freezer. A second after that, I realized it was the sound of ice cubes rattling around in the bucket. I yanked open the door.

“Holy shit, is this thing still alive?” I exclaimed, reaching into the ice bucket and drawing out the shivering babbeh. There was a layer of frost on its fluff, it was barely moving, and its eyes stared vacantly up at me as if I were an apparition, but the little shitrat was definitely still among the living. “Well, I’ll be damned!”

His teeth were chattering, but Faggot looked up at me, a pleading expression on his horrid little face, and eventually he managed to force a few words out:

“F-F-Faggot nu w-w-wike dis g-g-g-game, D-D-D-Daddeh…”

I threw back my head and laughed. Jesus, these things were full of surprises. What had started out as a pretty “shitty” (ba dum tss) afternoon was quickly turning into a hoot and a holler.

“I have wonderful news for you, Faggot!” I cried aloud. “You’ve passed your space training with flying colors! Congratulations, Lieutenant First Class Faggot! You are now among the few and the proud! You are officially an astronaut of the Fluffy Aeronautics and Space Administration!”

“F-f-fwuffy…a-a-am…astwonut…?”

I laughed again.

“Oh, you better believe it, little buddy! So, are you ready for your first mission? Oh, what am I saying? Of course you’re ready! You were born ready!”

“F-fwuffy am c-cowd…nee mummah…haf biggest huwties…poopie pwace haf owies…”

I ignored the gibbering of the weak foal, and set it absent-mindedly down on the counter while I rummaged around in the utility drawer. I found some zip ties which would probably do the trick. After that, I went to the hall closet and grabbed something off the top shelf.

“Alright, Lieutenant!” I chirped, scooping up the still-shivering frosty foal and heading for the back door. “It’s time for you to boldly go where no fluffy has gone before!”

I went out onto the back porch, and laid everything out on the picnic table. Our yard is surrounded by a tall wooden privacy fence, with a gate that opens up onto a communal alley. At this time of the afternoon, none of the neighbors or their kids should be home, so I figured the alley would probably be as good a place as any for this.

I placed the foal with his back against the rocket I’d taken from the closet. The brand name on the label said it was the “Big Bang,” and judging from the size of the thing I didn’t think it was a misnomer. It was one of the leftover fireworks from the Fourth of July the previous year; an enormous rocket, almost a foot long and an inch or two thick (make whatever Freud jokes you want; I’ve always been kind of a pyro and I get a thrill from shooting off big fireworks). I wrapped a zip tie around the foal’s neck and pulled it tight, watching in satisfaction as Faggot’s eyes began to bulge out of their sockets again. He had been chirping and peeping and babbling about “mummuh” and “poopie pwace huwties” until his wind was suddenly cut off; now all he could do was make a pathetic gurgling sound. Other than that, though, he didn’t try to struggle. These animals, or whatever the fuck they are, are pretty goddamn stupid, but this one seemed to have more or less realized that he wasn’t going to “wike” whatever I was about to do. On some instinctive level, he might have even realized that his pathetic little short life was nearly at an end. Maybe he welcomed it at that point.

Oh well, I thought. Serves you right, you little shitrat. You wanted to ‘splore’? Well, you’re going to go ‘splorin’ alright. This is for my carpet, and my game room, and my poor neglected dick…
Anonymous
No.23523
23524
>>23522

Whistling cheerfully, I took the rocket and its reluctant passenger through the gate, and quickly set it up in the middle of the alleyway. I kind of wanted to milk the theatrics a little more, maybe sing the national anthem or something, but the longer I drew this out the greater the chance that someone might open a window and see what I was doing. So, I quickly flipped open my Zippo, lit the fuse, and took several steps backward. I put a flat hand to my forehead in a mock gesture of salute.

“Semper Fi, little buddy,” I said. The fluffy foal’s bulging eyes turned towards me, and it looked like it was trying to gurgle out some last words. I’m no fluffy lip-reader, but I’m almost positive that it was trying to say “Faggot wuv ou Daddeh.” Either that or it was complaining about its “poopy pwace huwties” again; who the fuck even knows with shitrats. In any case, a second later the fuse burned its way to the rocket, and a torrent of flame began to erupt from its base.

Unfortunately, I was never much of a physics student, and I had failed to take into account how much of an impact the extra weight of the fluffy would have on the rocket’s trajectory. Instead of shooting gracefully up into the air as I had planned, the rocket made a rough lurch to the side and began to skitter a short distance down the alley, the terrified foal flailing its limbs as it repeatedly struck the asphalt. I had a rather harrowing moment myself when the rocket did a loop-de-loop and came back around, flying head first towards me. I leapt instinctively to the side, and it shot over my head and up into the air at the last minute.

I flipped over and watched it. Its flight path was still erratic, but it was a good twenty-five to thirty feet in the air now, so hopefully it wouldn’t cause any collateral damage. It wobbled out over the main street, where it finally exploded with a deafening BANG that somehow didn’t quite muffle the “screeeeee” sound of the dying fluffy. Several car alarms on the block went off; a red mist and some blue-colored chunks rained down onto the street below.

“Oh, shit!” I cried. I figured I should probably get the hell back into my house before anyone looked outside and saw me here. The last thing I wanted to do was answer a bunch of awkward questions from the fire marshal. If they figured out that there was a fluffy attached to that rocket, they’d probably just assume it had been the delinquent kid down the street who had set it off. All I had to do was get back inside–

“Excuse me, sir?”

My hand froze just above the gate handle. Slowly I turned towards the east end of the alley, the direction of the public street where the explosion had gone off just seconds ago. To my dismay, a uniformed police officer was standing there, with a few spatters of red on his shirt and a fragment of blue fluff on his shoulder.

“Uh, yes officer?” I asked, trying to play it cool. The officer took a few steps towards me and then stopped.

“My name is Officer Waczynski with the Clackamas County Sheriff’s department,” he said. I swallowed and tried to look nonchalant. “Sir, are you aware that it’s illegal to set off fireworks in this neighborhood without a permit?”

“I…uh…well…”

So much for playing it cool. The officer reached up towards his breast pocket, and I assumed he was going for his citation book, or maybe his handcuffs. However, his hand didn’t stop at his pocket. It continued its journey upward, and then stopped at his shoulder. Suddenly, he shot me a wry smile, and then pointedly brushed off the fragment of blue fluff. I gazed upon his eyes, and in that moment I knew that Officer Waczynski was my nigger.

“I’m afraid you can’t shoot off any more fireworks in this alley,” he continued. “You wouldn’t want to see kids, pets, or anything important get hurt, would you?”

I shook my head, and the officer shot me that sly smile again.

“I’m sorry, officer,” I finally stammered. “I guess I wasn’t really thinking.”

“Just don’t let it happen again, or I will have to write you a citation,” Waczynski said, and turned to go. He paused, then turned back to me. “By the way, if you go a little way past the other end of the alley, there’s a path down to the river. It’s pretty much all open space down there. It’s usually deserted, so if you want to mess around, do it there. Just keep in mind that we do have noise ordinances in this neighborhood.”

Without another word, Waczynski turned and went back to his duties. Meanwhile, the last of the blaring car alarms was finally silenced by its owner. I turned to go back inside my house.

***

Later that night, I was sitting in the living room watching more old reruns. It was a show called Laverne and Shirley this time. This old-timey TV was pretty good, I was thinking, and I figured I’d keep watching this channel for awhile. I heard a sound coming from the hallway, and looked up to see Heather emerging out of the shadows.

“How are the shitrats?” I asked. Heather shot me a disapproving but loving glance.

“They’re fine,” she replied, not taking the bait. “Say, have you seen the little blue one around here? I couldn’t find him in the safe room, and all Ramona will say is that “blue babbeh” went “‘splorin’.” She doesn’t seem too worried, but, well, you know how fluffies are…”

I frowned, as if remembering something. I made a show of hesitating, then cleared my throat.

“Well,” I said, “I noticed earlier that the game roo–uh, sorry; the safe room door was open a little way. I shut it, and I didn’t see any fluffies in the hall, but it’s possible that one of the babies might have wandered out.”

“Damn!” Heather made an irritated face, then she shrugged helplessly. “Well, I hope he’s alright…”

“Don’t worry,” I said, beckoning her towards the space on the couch next to me. “If he’s in the house he’ll turn up.”
Anonymous
No.23524
>>23523

Heather plopped down next to me, but she didn’t let the subject drop.

“Yeah, but what if he doesn’t?” she exclaimed. “You know how fluffies are…”

“Yeah, I know how fluffies are.” I put an arm around her and pulled her close. “Look, I know you’re pretty serious about this fluffy thing, but you heard what the guy at FluffMart said. Those things are delicate, they wander off, they get into trouble…you shouldn’t get too attached to them, especially the babies.”

“Yeah…” she stared off despondently, still clearly anxious. I gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” I continued, “I’m sure he’s fine. How far could a little fluffy foal get? It’s not like he went into space or something.”

She smiled, and snuggled her head against my shoulder.

“Hey,” she said after a moment. “I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate how supportive you’ve been about all of this. I know fluffies aren’t really your thing.”

“Yeah, well…” now it was my turn to trail off. I shrugged. “I guess if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

She cuddled up closer.

“You’ll get your game room back some day,” she murmurred. “For now, I’m just…”

Her obvious drowsiness was beginning to affect me too, and my lids soon closed. I instantly saw Faggot in my mind’s eye, his neck fastened to the rocket with a zip tie, his eyes bulging out; that last expression of pure hopelessness on his face when he realized that he was going to die. I could feel myself beginning to get an erection. Heather noticed, though she completely misinterpreted the reason.

“Hmm, what’s this?” she said, stroking me gently. I groaned a little, and tightened my grip around her shoulders.

I shut my eyes again, and this time I saw Faggot blasting off into space. The rocket launched perfectly this time, carrying its brave little passenger upward, into the cold depths of outer space. To boldly go where no fluffy had gone before.

“Semper Fi, little buddy” I whispered.

“What?” said Heather. I opened my eyes, and she was looking at me with a quizzical expression.

“Nothing,” I said.

I leaned forward and kissed her.

------------------------------------------------------

And, that's it. iirc I was going to write more of this but just forgot about it. If anyone wants, I can probably continue it.
Anonymous
No.23525
>>23520
Excellent story. You got all the terminology covered and used appropriately. I like how this Anon was such a sadistic asshole and still got away with it.
>Hey, that’s great, Faggot!” I cried, all cutesy-wike. Like. Cutesy-LIKE. Fuck, now even I’m talking like these things.
Keked at that.
Anonymous
No.23527
kvwN1U8.jpeg
>>23517
>Why are you bumping this thread with no content?
The question is why (you) would not. Huh?
>>23519
>I'm going to dump the retarded fluffy-abuse story I wrote forever ago.
Hell yeah.
Shitpost away!!!

funny-chicken-without-feathers.jpg
Anonymous
No.7288
7289 8713 8714 8734 8751 9267
BEHOLD A MAN
34 replies and 21 files omitted.
Anonymous
No.23003
23004
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BEHOLD, A MAN!
Anonymous
No.23004
>>23003
>second pic
Purple sure is. She never disappoints.
Anonymous
No.23229
image0-45.png

Anonymous
No.23305
NINTCHDBPICT000453604234-e1543852310346.jpg
>>8732
Tbh, if Plato had ever seen a monkey/ape in his life, he probably would have described man as "a hairless ape", which is a more commonly accepted comparison these days.
Anonymous
No.23483
IMG_20240121_195814.jpg

Anonymous
No.23506
4145885846_d5cec7f13a_z.jpg


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A. Wyatt Mann
Anonymous
No.15779
15787
A Wyatt Mann thread. Post the best you've got.
78 replies and 100 files omitted.
Anonymous
No.23323
These cartoons were funnier before they all came true.
Anonymous
No.23324
>>20831
Memes memes memes ^^ noice!
Anonymous
No.23432
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Anonymous
No.23472
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Anonymous
No.23473
jews_image59.jpg

Anonymous
No.23505
white_image12.jpg


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Post in This Thread Every Time You Visit /sp/ #5
Anonymous
No.21084
8692 8693 21085 21086 21098 21156 21159 21237 21249
The continuation since the last thread hit the bump limit
296 replies and 207 files omitted.
Anonymous
No.23474
23476
hoa.jpg
HOA: home owners association
Anonymous
No.23475
GDGDr4JWkAAudgV.png

Anonymous
No.23476
>>23474
This only works if the bats move in (which could take years) before the HOA notices, and HOAs, more importantly, the private administration companies they hire to run the thing, tend to spot things like that pretty quickly. The private admin companies profit off of fines, so they enforce any violation they see, so they survey the area for anything out of line.
Anonymous
No.23480
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Anonymous
No.23481
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Anonymous
No.23503
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Anonymous
No.23491
We need another classic rock thread. Post classic rock here. No pussy emo shit or nigger pop.

Ozzy Osbourne - Mr. Crowley
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0RE230PlX4
Aerosmith - Lord of the Thighs
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNu0VIoY9nY
Led Zeppelin - When the Levee Breaks
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JM3fodiK9rY
The Who - The Kids are Alright
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afam2nIae4o
Cheap Trick - Surrender
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_Km11HNzUY
Chicago - 25 or 6 to 4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUAYeN3Rp2E
Cream - White Room
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5BF1V1pbTs
Steppenwolf - Magic Carpet Ride
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eGkGNCUQtWY
Foghat - Slow Ride
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=leVXA1urMg4
Boston - More than a Feeling
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufQUxoidxkM
Anonymous
No.23492
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BgAH0lrfN9E

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Game has been fortified for Sneed
Anonymous
No.23489
Chiefs won

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Anonymous
No.23488
>losing the Super Bowl because of Sneed
The memes write themselves.

File (hide): B0480FB8CBD76480D33CA3400B55833C-497867.mp4 (486.2 KB, Resolution:512x640 Length:00:00:09, downloadfile-3.bin (4).mp4) [play once] [loop]
downloadfile-3.bin (4).mp4
Anonymous
No.23479
What's he thinking, /sp/?

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E-Celeb Drama
Anonymous
No.22842
Hi everypone, this thread is focusing on a topic not allowed in some boards.
Lowbrow political drama is welcomed. Butthurt egos are preferred.
57 replies and 49 files omitted.
Anonymous
No.23405
spacey.jpg
>>23400
>Kevin Spacey
The beef with this degenerate Spacey is that Tucker Carlson just ran an interview with him in order to clear his image a bit.
Tucker= gatekeeper + propagandist
Anonymous
No.23407
>>23404
>On a related side note, that t-shirt looks suspiciously photoshopped.
Yup it is photoshop, But the the picture is real.
Anonymous
No.23408
west.jpg
>>23391
>Kanye West taunting the jews
Anonymous
No.23413
23471
9dzr3c.jpeg
kan.jpg
>>23391
>Kanye West
And here he goes, backtracking again.
B-but he is our counter-semitic negro presidential candidate. /s
Anonymous
No.23470
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File (hide): 5A30BCD06A136FDAE874F27346FFB635-13066839.mp4 (12.5 MB, Resolution:872x480 Length:00:05:09, Brother Nathanael schools Alex Jones.mp4) [play once] [loop]
Brother Nathanael schools Alex Jones.mp4
>Brother Nathanael schools Alex Jones on Jewish control of America and how Jews operate as a collective - (57:11 long)
https://www.bitchute.com/video/sb7Gw2YRInhC/
Mirror:
https://www.bitchute.com/video/3u2BnVVIJ8vf/
This debate includes Hitler, the Holocaust (AKA "The Holohoax") and so on and of course.
Alex Jones tries to wash off his Jew lover label but instead manages to prove to everyone who were in doubt that he is indeed nothing but a gatekeeper.
A sample clip attached.
Anonymous
No.23471
>>23413
>And here he goes, backtracking again
What did you expect? The giy is literally diagnosed bipolar manic-depression: he goes on deranged rants, and then backtracks and apologizes as he feels soul-crushing shame from acting so cringe; that's what bipolar people do. He's probably schizophrenic too, and therefore is predisposed to rebel against authority and notice conspiracies, and therefore fought back against kikes; however, he didn't do it because he was "based", but because he was completely crazy. He's a tragically broken clock that like all broken clocks was right twice a day.
The poor clown has for the past 15 years been trapped in an endless spiral of rambling scandals and humiliating himself. He should really just stop making public appearances for the sake of the stability of his own mind. One obviously-insane rapper rambling about the jews doesn't really make a big difference to the JQ; although I will credit him for causing a noticeable amount of niggers start questioning kikes in the media.

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