Tag Archives: sex

Richard Pryor Fucked Marlon Brando (According to TMZ)

According to this TMZ article, comic legend Richard Pryor and acting legend Marlon Brando humped, boned, got it on.

I’m such a dinosaur because I don’t know what to think.  Two actors I liked.  I suppose it would be not woke to not like them anymore.  Also, to clarify, I didn’t like Brando that much.  IMO, he was good in “The Godfather” and kind of a pretentious prick in everything else, but that’s my opinion.

Pryor was hysterical in everything.

OK I’m depressed these two allegedly had sex, but I admit that makes me not woke.

Also, it may be beyond depression.  Just surprise.  Shock.  Pryor was so silly, Brando so serious.  Didn’t seem like they’d hang out together, let alone have alleged gay sex.

Like imagine how you’d feel if you woke up tomorrow and there was a headline that said Justin Bieber, Nicki Minaj and Taylor Swift like to play pinball machines on top of giant, football stadium sized donuts while unicorns run around and space aliens dance the mambo.

That would seem very out of the ordinary…just as how out of the ordinary it is to me the allegation that Pryor and Brando banged each other.

What would that even sound like?

BRANDO: I’m going to make your ass an offer it can’t refuse!

PRYOR: Oh get in there, bitch!  You gonna get it all, Jack!

BRANDO:  Ugh…your ass could have been a contender!

PRYOR: Oh you muthafucka!  Gratuitous use of the N-word!


PRYOR:  Hilarious white guy voice!


PRYOR: Where’s my crack pipe?!

Anyway.  That’s how I imagine it sounded.

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“Baby It’s Cold Outside” – Sexual Harassment Version

BQB NOTE:  Last year, I wrote “Politically Correct ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside.‘  Now, given the latest news, it’s time for the Sexual Harassment version.

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HER:  I really can’t stay…

HIM…but baby it’s cold outside.

HER: I’ll call the media right away!

HIM: Oh my God!  No, please, I’ll put down my hands today!

HER:  This evening has been…

HIM:  …I’ll stop bothering you then…

HER:  The top story on CNN!

HIM:  Look, I’m sorry and my abuse will cease.

HER:  I’m drafting a press release.

HIM:  I’m so embarrassed I want to be dead.

HER: Hello operator, put me through to Gloria Allred.

HIM:  I didn’t mean it, I’m so ashamed.

HER:  The pundits will give you the blame.

HIM:  I just wanted to grab a boob.

HER: And now you’re off to jail, so grab the lube.

HIM:  Oh my God, I’m so screwed!

HER: I really can’t stay.

HIM: No more argument here.  So sorry to offend.

HER: Your perversions are now the top Twitter trend!

HER: I really can’t stay.

HIM: Then get the hell out of here!  Please, for the love of God, I still want a job on Monday!

HER:  Wow, it really is cold outside!


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BQB on Hollywood Perverts

Hey 3.5 readers.

As you all know, I am a movie lover.  I have no life, so I spent most of my free time watching films.  I have nothing but great appreciation for them.

Thus, it is with great sadness I have come to realize that Hollywood is full of terrible, nasty, disgusting perverts…so much so that I am no longer able to watch a film without worrying that the actor on screen might a) be a pervert or b) may have been perved on by a pervert.

Action movie?  The woman being saved was probably banged against her will by the action star.

Drama?  The dude crying probably forced himself on the other dude that’s crying.

Comedy – when the laughter stopped, the non-consensual sex began.

Movie with a dog as a lead – I’m sorry, but there’s like a 99 percent chance that someone fucked that dog.  Look at that dog’s dead eyes.  He’s been abused and he did not like it at all, the poor thing.  He’s on screen being all like “Freddy the Wonder Pooch Saves the Day!” but then at night he’s taking cold showers and drinking a fifth of vodka just to forget his woes.

So much perversion, 3.5 readers.  Every day, a new Hollywood star is alleged to have engaged in perverted activity.

I’m so sad, 3.5 readers.  Is there anyone in Hollywood who is not a pervert?

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Daily Discussion with BQB – How Hard is it For a Movie Mogul to Get Chicks?

Hey 3.5 readers.

So, ever since Harvey Weinstein was exposed as a pervert, it’s got me thinking about how hard it must be to get chicks, even as a super rich and powerful movie tycoon.

Harvey’s fat.  Not good looking at all.  But he was rich and powerful and had the ability to make the dreams of aspiring actors and actresses come true.

I guess my question is this – why did he find it necessary to sexually harass women?

Call me crazy, but I feel like even if you’re fat and ugly and not good looking, if you’re a big time Hollywood honcho, aren’t there still going to be some young, hot babes who would like to be with you voluntarily?  I feel like there would be some hot chicks who would be like, “Yeah he’s fat and ugly but he’s rich and can fly me to Paris whenever I want and buy me stuff and I can live in his nice house and so on.”

I don’t know.  That was the whole point of this blog, to one day become such a rich, well-known writer that hot chicks out of my league would overlook my fatness and ugliness and voluntarily be with me.  If that’s not the case, if you can get super rich and powerful and famous and still need to harass hot chicks then screw it.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t about just harassing hot chicks.  Maybe it was about harassing famous chicks…i.e. scoring the chick the whole world wants to score with.   I have no idea.  I don’t know what was going on in Harvey’s mind.

If you’re a rich and famous person, well you probably aren’t reading this blog but on the off chance you are, tell me, do hot chicks overlook your fatness and ugliness to voluntarily be with you?

By the way before anyone gets bent out of shape, I realize it is wrong to sexually harass anyone ever for any reason.  I’m just wondering why Harvey felt he had to do so when I feel like lots of hot chicks would have liked to have been with him voluntarily just because they like rich, powerful dudes.

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Millenial Strippers are the Worst

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

Just wanted to give you 3.5 readers a handy tip – if you’re thinking about going to a strip club, don’t bother.

Now honestly, that’s been good advice for a long time, no matter the time period.  You get sad, a strange woman briefly slaps you in the face with her knockers, you feel better for five minutes but then ultimately, you’d of been better of if you’d of saved your money.  That money in a bank account with compounding interest would have done more for you than using it to pay for a brief breast slap to the face, fun as that may be.

But according to my colleague, the Alleged Man i.e. the man that people think pretends to be me and all the other characters on this illustrious site, strip clubs are pretty much a big let down these days because millennial strippers are the worst.

AM used to visit strip clubs when he was younger and he advises that the Generation X strippers were really a bunch of go-getters.  You’d walk into the joint and within 5 minutes they’d be sitting on your lap, offering you lap dances, doing yeoman’s work to use their giant fake breasts to convince you to part with your hard earned cash.

Hell, many of them were even pests about it.  AM recalls many an occasion when he just wanted to hang out and not spend much money and ogle the stripper on the pole while nursing a drink all night.  Gen X strippers would pester him for lap dances.  AM would say no, sorry, he’s all out of money.  But the savvy, hard working Gen X strippers would be all like, “Oh, you know we have an ATM…oh, you know, we take credit cards, oh you know, there’s a place nearby that will cash a check, oh you know you could do this, or that…”

I mean really, the Gen X strippers went the extra mile.  Sometimes the AM felt like any second they were going to put on a green eye shade and pull out a calculator and like a used car salesman trying to close a deal, say, “What’s it going to take to put my butt on your lap today?”

AM stopped that though.  Too expensive.  Bad habit really.  He grew up and learned money in the bank is worth more than a brief dalliance with a skank.  (That rhymed.)

But he felt sad lately and visited one and he is sad to say that millennial strippers are the worst.

First, they all choose their stripper names based on pop culture.  “Chastity” and “Misty” and “Amber” are all gone.  Now it’s all, “Coming up on the main stage, Khaleesi!”  Seriously.  Khaleesi.  Oh and Elsa.  A lot of Frozen and Game of Thrones fans among the millennial stripper community apparently.

Second, the work ethic is gone.  While those Generation X strippers would descend upon AM and get him on his way in no time, leaving him briefly enticed followed by sad and broke, the millennial strippers just mill about on their cell phones.  They text, they do social media, they take selfies, they talk to each other, play phone games, everything but get out there and earn some green from all the losers who have come in willing to part with their cash to the first pretty face they see.

I mean, really, AM had half a mind to raise his hand and say, “Excuse me, what do I have to do to spend an absurd amount of money to get slapped in the face with a pair of bosoms around here?”

Yes, AM misses the days of the early 2000s when Generation X strippers really worked hard for those dirty, wrinkly, sweaty dollar bills.  Sadly, like every other group within the millennial generation, millennial strippers just think the dirty, wrinkly sweaty dollar bills are going to magically pop into their G-strings without doing all the leg work…or grind work or what have you.

Oh, FYI my lawyer says to tell you this is just a story, a musing, none of this happened.  AM is a teetotalling bible studier and he spends most of his free time studying the bible and washing leper feet.  The only way he’d ever go to a strip club would be to tell the strippers to repent, pray for their souls and beg for the Lord’s forgiveness and to find a more dignified means of supporting themselves.









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The Male Biological Clock is Real

Hey 3.5 readers.

My best buddy, “The Alleged Man” or the person everyone thinks is me but isn’t, has been pretty bummed as of late.

See, he’s 38, and since 35 the realization has been a slow trickle, now turning into a busted water faucet of a realization that his window to father children is getting narrower and narrower.

In theory, yes, if you can squeeze out some joy juice out of a one hundred year old man, you might be able to use it to knock up a chick.  However, that 100 year old still needs to get the go ahead from a young, fertile chick…because, you know, otherwise he’d be a centenarian rapist.

NOTE TO SELF:  “Centenarian Rapist” would be an awesome title for my next book.  TAGLINE: He raped his way through the Great Depression and two world wars, now he’s raping his way into the grave.  Begin plans for a 99 Design cover contest posthaste.

Back to the point.  Do things look grim for this stud muffin?  Should he just slap himself for not working harder to impregnate a chick in his early days, then forgive himself an accept his spawn-less existence?

I mean, our own 45th POTUS managed to knock up a hot younger woman at age 60 but, you know, he’s super rich and famous and also the POTUS and also has fantastic hair and I have heard rumors that he is often talked about on the news for some reason.

But do keep in mind AM not rich or famous or the POTUS.  That probably won’t happen until I release “Son of Toilet Gator” and then everyone will be all like “Oh AM you’re so super awesome, please impregnate all the women, yay.”

Yeah, yeah, forget pity and condolences about “Hey, Alleged Man, maybe you can adopt or maybe you’ll meet a babe with kids of her own and the Dad has skipped town.”

The Alleged Man is wondering about his chances of actually getting his swimmers past the fallopian goal line.

Sadly, the “Sell a Billion Copies of Toilet Gator and impregnate a gold digging supermodel” looks like it is still years away from coming to fruition.

Plus, AM recently read something about how the older you get, the worse your sperm gets.  AM is now highly concerned that a microscopic slide of his jism would bear a striking resemblance to a bunch of tiny tadpoles slapping each other around like the Three Stooges.  Nyuk nyuk.


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BQB’s Ultimate 1990s Fap List


Behold!  In no particular order, the list of babes I was tossing the old pickle around to while Bill Clinton was president:

#1 – Sarah Michelle Gellar – Buffy fap.

#2 – Britney Spears – Hit me baby one more fap.

#3 – Christina Applegate – Kelly Bundy fap.

#4 – Alicia Silverstone – Clueless Batgirl fap.

#5 – Jenna Jameson – First porn superstar fap.

#6 – Pamela Andersen – Baywatch fap.

#7 – Anna Nicole Smith – Ridiculously big bazongas.  RIP fap.  Too soon, too soon.

#8 – Britney Murphy – Another fap gone too soon.  Why, God, why?

#9 – Tia Carerre – Wayne’s World.  Deserved a longer career fap.  Should still be in movies now far.

#10 – Asia Carerre – Tia Carerre knockoff porn star fap.  Tia should have sued.

#11 – Jennifer Love Hewitt – Or as we called her in the 90s, “Jennifer Love Huge Tits.”  Ha! Now that’s good satire, fap.

#12 – Sandra Bullock – Speed fap.  Don’t let the bus slow down fap.  Hot chick but still approachable fap.

#13 – Drew Barrymore – Hollywood royalty fap.

#14 – Sharon Stone – First vagina in a major film fap.  Scares police detectives with her vagina fap.

#15 – Uma Thurman – Pulp Faption.

#16 – Kate Winslet – Killed Jack by hogging the board, got old, threw the necklace off the boat instead of selling it to help impoverished niece selfish bitch fap.

#17 – Jewel – Crooked teeth yet still hot fap.

#18 – Christina Aguilera – Hits the high notes fap.

#19 – Beyonce – I’m a survivor fap.  (Add in Kelly and Michelle for a Destiny’s Fap.)

#20 – Gwen Stefani – I’m just a girl fap.

#21 – Whitney Houston – I’m every woman fap.

#22  – Shania Twain – That doesn’t impress my fap much.

#23 – Reese Witherspoon – Cruel Faptentions.

#24 – Claire Danes – Romeo and Juliet.  “But soft, what light through yonder window faps?”

#25 – Michelle Williams – Town slut Jen Lindley fap.

#26 – The Spice Girls – “Oh, I’ll tell you what I fap, what I really, really fap!”

#27 – Winona Ryder – Goth fap.

#28 – Tiffani Amber Thiessen – Saved by the Fap Bell.  (We would have also accepted “Kelly Fapowski.”)

#29 – Katie Holmes – Girl next door fap.  Sigh, girl that got away fap.  Double sigh, girl wasted on Tom Cruise fap.

#30 – Cindy Crawford – Supermodel fap.

#31 – Jennifer Aniston – The Rachel fap.

#32 – Neve Campbell – Scream fap.

#33 – Paul Abdul – “Straight up now tell me, do you really wanna fap to me forever?”  SPOILER ALERT: Yes.

#34 – Julia Stiles – 10 Faps I Fap About You

#35 – Madonna – 1990s cone bra phase fap.

#36 – Julia Roberts – Steel Fapnolias

#37 – Fiona Apple – More like Fiona Fapple, am I right?

#38 – Monica Lewinsky – Brought down the leader of the free world with her fapworthiness.

#39 – Elizabeth Hurley – British fap

#40 – Yasmine Bleeth – Baywatch fap.

#41 – Lucy Lawless – Xena, Warrior Fap Princess

#42 – Jenny McCarthy – Singled Out fap.

#43 – Liv Tyler – Steve’s long lost daughter fap.  Also, Fappageddon.

#44 – Kerri Russell – Faplicity.

#45 – Shannon Elizabeth – American Pie fap.

#46 – Elizabeth Berkley – Showgirls fap.  (Seriously, like every 1990s boy including myself snuck out to the video store to rent that movie, secret it home under cover of darkness and slip it in the old VCR while Mom and Dad went to bed.)

#47 – Janet Jackson – Nasty boys, don’t even fap.  Oh you nasty boys.

#48 – Carmen Electra – Invented being famous for no reason long before Kim Kardashian did fap.

#49 – Charlize Theron – Gets more fappable with age.

#50 – Michelle Pfeiffer – Catwoman fap.

#51 – Cameron Diaz – There’s Something Fappable About Mary.

#52 – Denise Richards – Starship Fappers

#53 – Rebecca Gayheart – Noxzema fap.

#54 – Heather Graham – Roller Girl fap.

#55 – Alyssa Milano – Who’s the Boss of My Fap?  Charmed fap.

TO BE CONTINUED – Did I miss a fap worthy 1990s babe?  Add your favorites to the comments.



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Daily Discussion with BQB – BQB’s Crazy Dream

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

So I had a crazy dream last night.  Here’s how it all went down.

I dreamed there was a TV show where Tom Hanks was a billionaire.  Then there’s this woman who has been down on her luck a long time.  She’s gone to job interview after job interview and no one will hire her.

Finally, she somehow talks Tom Hanks into hiring her to run a start up Internet company.  Tom buys an old historic mansion with lots of charm to serve as the startup company’s headquarters.

The problem is that this woman knows absolutely nothing about the Internet or technology or anything.  She wonders if she’s in too deep but doesn’t say anything because she is dirt broke and needs the money.

But the problem is she doesn’t know what to do with herself while she’s at work because it’s not like she knows how to do anything, so she just starts having sex with her coworkers all day.

Meanwhile, her coworkers know about the Internet and technology and stuff but since their dumb, incompetent boss isn’t really making them do anything, they all start having sex with each other all day.

So it sort of descends into this dirty, cable dramatic sitcom where Tom Hanks is paying all these people to launch an Internet business for him but instead, they’re just all having sex in this fabulous mansion all day.

Occasionally, Tom will stop by the mansion and be all like, “Hey, how’s my new business doing?”

And all the sex perverts will be all like, “Yeah Tom, it’s all going great!”

Then he leaves and they all go back to having sex.

I didn’t dream far enough but I assume that either all these sex perverts eventually get caught by Tom when they fail at the business or maybe, by some miracle, they stumble into actually starting a great Internet business by accident, somewhere during the breaks between sex escapades.

By the way, in my dream, I was watching this show.  Like I was watching it all happen and my mind kept switching from its real to its a show.

And you know what?  It’s about as good as anything else that’s on TV so I’m just going to put this one out there.  If anyone wants to put this on television just drop me a comment and I’ll tell you how to back the Brinks truck up to BQB HQ for my TV development fee.

Have you ever had a crazy dream, 3.5 readers?  Discuss in the comments.

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Things I Worry About with Lloyd Bunson – Sex and Boogers


Lloyd Bunson, Professional Worrier

Hello 3.5 readers.

Are you a worry wart like me?  I’m so worried that don’t worry and thus you’ll find my worries trite and boring.  But then again, maybe you do worry as much as me and in fact, telling you about my worries will only add to your long list of worries!

Oh, so much to worry about!

Here are my latest worries:


I worry that one day, I will forget to drink enough liquids and will dry up like a sponge left out in the sun.  Worse, maybe I’ll just turn to dust and all of my little dust particles will fly away.

I once thought that carrying a bottle of water with me wherever I go would solve the problem.  That way, I never have to worry that I won’t be able to find a drink when I’m thirsty.  I’m a hundred percent certain that if I don’t get any water into me at the exact second I feel thirsty, I will turn into a dry sponge, or dust, or worse, a dry, dusty sponge.

But then I nixed the water bottle idea because, you know, what if I drink too much water and can’t find a bathroom?  Then my bladder will surely explode in a horrifying manner, raining bloody bits and pieces of my shredded bladder all over everyone in the blast radius.  I’ll be dead and everyone around me will be traumatized, all because I worried so much about dehydration.

So then I figured I’d split the difference.  I’ll carry a bottle of water AND I’ll pee in the empty bottle if I can’t find a bathroom.  However, I became concerned that I might be arrested for public lewdness.

Sadly, I don’t think I will ever find a solution to this problem.


I always worry that I might tip too much or too little.

What if the waiter is trying to make rent this month and I tip too little?  This person will end out in the street, turning tricks for cents on the dollar, all because of my lousy math skills.

But what if I tip too much?  Then this waiter will get used to it.  He’ll stop trying hard.  He’ll assume he can just coast by and everyone will give him a big tip.  He’ll never move up to management.  He’ll end up being a seventy year old waiter.

So, I just don’t go out to eat anymore.  I cook all my meals out home, then I serve them to myself.  Then I worry a lot about what I should tip myself.  Sure, it’s my own money, but I still want to do right by myself.

Picking Boogers

Sometimes I’ll feel a booger lodged in my nose.  I’ll start to pick it, but then I become very concerned that I’ll push my finger up my nasal cavity with so much force that I’ll end up stabbing myself in the brain.  So I stop.

Then I start worrying that the booger is cutting off my supply of oxygen and will surely cause me to suffocate.  So I start picking again.

It’s a vicious cycle.

Sexually Transmitted Diseases

I worry I’ll die alone, so I get out there on the dating scene and try to mix and mingle.

Once in awhile I’ll meet a woman.  She’ll invite me back to her place but I have no idea about this woman’s sexual history.  It’s rude to ask and even I were to ask, how do I know she’s not a pathological liar pretending to be clean and pure when in fact, she’s made her way through the entire NFL?

So, I always insist on wrapping my entire body with garbage bags, and then wrapping the woman’s entire body with garbage bags before we cuddle.  So there we will be, cuddling in our garbage bags and sure enough, she’ll want to touch my little Lloyd Bunson.

Am I really supposed to let her touch it with her vagina?  Do you have any idea how many germs are in one of those things?  It boggles my mind to think about it.

So that’s the point where I usually run out of the building and down the street, still wearing all those garbage bags with my arms flailing around while I’m screaming out of sheer terror at the top of my lungs.

Eventually, I get home and I sit there on the couch in complete solitude.  My concerns about STDs fade and my concerns about being alone return.

I suppose one of these days I will have to touch one of those vaginas.  I just hope I can find one that isn’t too germy.  Surely, the right woman will submit to a battery of invasive vaginal germ tests.

Your Worries

Do you have any ridiculous worries?  I’m really worried that you’ll share them in the comments and then I’ll have no idea what to say.

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Go Topless Day


Happy Sunday 3.5 readers.

Fun fact: today is International Go Topless Day.

I’m not sure I should link to information about this holiday because that would warp your degenerate minds.

Needless to say, there are women who believe it is discriminatory that men get to walk around topless and they don’t. So they have parades and events and stuff where they let their fun bags fly free.

Ehh…of all the causes out there I’m not sure there’s a whole lot of opposition.  I don’t think you’ll find a lot of men saying, “No!  No I do not want to see those boobs!  Cover up those boobs!”

Although personally as a man, I can tell you that we men often view easily viewed boobs as some sort of trap, kind of like Lucy holding the football only to yank it away and laugh when Charlie Brown runs up to kick it.

I assume (though don’t get mad at me if you think this is assumption is wrong because I don’t I’m just talking at random here) there are probably some women who’d whip the ole sweater cannons out only to be all like “How dare you stare at my sweater cannons?!” if a man stares at them.

Am I in favor of this holiday? Well, sure. I don’t mind free range boobs.  I’d probably still sneak glances because like I said, typically seeing boobs requires copious amounts of effort so when they’re easily seen my mind is trained to think something’s up, but at any rate if adult women want to let it all hang out, they won’t get any argument from me.

Then again, I can also see the argument many might have that this is a slippery slope.  Should men be allowed to let their junk hang out?  Should we all be able to go pantsless and let our cheeks flap in the breeze?

Maybe we should. Maybe thats how we were made. Maybe we should all revert to Garden of Eden pre-Eve apple munch days when we were all innocent and frolicked in the sun in our birthday suits.

Then again, clothes do serve a purpose.  They keep us warm.  They keep us from leaving skid marks on publicly used seats.  They keep us from getting our germs all over supermarket produce. I’m not sure how that works.  Germs leap off your butt and onto the cucumbers.  For a better explanation, you’ll have to conduct noted scientist Dr. Hugo Von Science.

Heck, clothes probably even keep our junk from getting slammed in car doors more than we realize.

And there are probably some people who might get offended by the boobs.  Maybe they’re trying to take their kids for a walk and don’t want to cover their eyes the whole time.  Maybe there are enough boobs in Congress already that we have to see on the news 24/7.

Perhaps we could limit free range hooters to nude beaches.  Getting some sun on those things is the only real reason to turn them loose outside anyway, right?

Oh but then again if you limit it to certain beaches then that would be like creating boob internment camps right?  Never again, man. Never again.

And finally, I consider myself a philosopher.  During my many years of Shaolin training, my master used to ask me, “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to see it, does it make a sound?”

That’s a question designed to train the mind to tackle complexity.  Very hard to answer.

Similarly, if boobs are hanging out, but men don’t stare at them because they don’t want to get arrested for First Degree Boob Staring, then were the boobs ever out to begin with?

I don’t know 3.5 readers. ‘Tis a question for the ages.

Women, if you’re celebrating this day, enjoy.

Men, don’t stare. It’s a trap.


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