Riobard

Hold your roll, Clarice. Wasn’t there a poster here a while back that arrogantly disparaged layperson jury trials? This. You just buttressed that person’s point. I suppose it could have been you because it has the flavour of something you would say and then personally exemplify it …. Naw, it was you, a slam dunk for Judy. I hate to admit much commonality with your wonky perspectives in general, and you don’t track them well for coherence and consistency, but I’m now more on side than ever with that particular one. On the bright side for you, you want to be noticed and y’are.

Says the guy that deems a globally beloved sport played by all genders and all ages as tantric-grade. That ridiculous little passage evoked cringe not sensuality. But try workshopping it on a playing field and see how that plays out. The terms ‘own goal’, ‘red card’ come to mind.

Yep, exactly how I imagine the mayhem of the way a troll and wannabe influencer comes. This could help:

No. Better to be priggish than getting into the weeds on autonomy.

The win is attributable to a teenager. Prepubescent kids accompany the players to the field. Think things through, guys; it helps keep creepiness in check and Clarice from a warranted knocking on your door. You don’t have to be prurient about everything.

For reals? That’s just absurd. Usually a thing that is … is just what it is. But thanks for the shudders.

Get help. And I’m not referring to the complex spectrum of unprotected intercourse legitimacy.

Enter pinned solution here:

OMG, FINALLY, a single correct answer. Por favor, can it just be pinned?

Sensibly prohibited.

Just a textbook case of pandemic IKEA corona virus in Glannsspennyss Wales. In fact, spread to the board games.

Slow your roll, Clarice. That’s Ethian.

Meanwhile and elsewhere:

Yes, the ‘contract’ notion seems to be the common denominator for the contingency practice. Still, eyeroll, can’t not. I think it lacks relatability for me because it’s arbitrary, rigidly paint-by-numbers. Imma have a good time whatever comes up. Others may rain on their own parade. No dick in the suite is letting me down. On rare occasions, if I’m the sole man attached to an erect member it’s not a chore to adapt. You’ve lost your power if anxiously fretting about a few ounces of intracavernosal tissue swindling you. Such projection is a repetitive vibe here. I may be outnumbered. Last-ish point: I’ll never get the reason for detailed report blow-by-blows on this aspect of programas. It’s such a basic simple concept, albeit a partisan approach that has the flavour of entering brothel enemy territory. Why the pressing need to descriptively check off each and every box? It’s as if a visit report could be performatively lacking. Extreme transactional detail does not seem to have assuaged the general anxiety, for many here, of being backed into a corner over penile rights. I do get that omissions prompt harassment-grade inquiries about costs. Perhaps an obsessionality trickle-down reflective of a visible distressed minority. Unfortunate if the visit report template is unduly influenced by a lack of mind over matter.

Flaccidizing. This next part’s tailored for you because I’ve read your room and you’re intelligent: I note that some punters, predominantly cheap-ass gringos, will impose a paradoxical bind on you by stratifying remuneration according to genital function and bossily attempting to hold you to their playbook. That’s crap and a deficient organizational principle for MSM transactional sex. What comes next, the inevitable cliché consequence, is a parallel bind that you drop on the payee; you walk right into the biggest detractor of reliable tumescence known to sexology, a stop-loss dynamic. But if you really believe cash is physiologically arousogenic or want to reinforce that type of batshit crazy link, you do you, unabashedly.

Welp, you sure told him.

There’s a sloppy error of some significance in the probable cause document. Anyone pick it out yet? It may tax attention span but conceivably worth an entire emoji.

Welp, I tapped out of the workout early. A short trip, you say? Are you sure there’s no part of your exhaustive diary you left out? On the bright side, you’ll probably never be short an alibi if needed.

Just so the 3rd party blog readers know and can be appropriately warned: there are no genuine boundaries here in terms of keeping to a topic. The content may drift out, the agenda may move back from offside to town. If you hate interference there may be better places to visit.

Correct. Two rudes makes it the right time for pizza. And the trap door labelled Ignore.

You could lighten up on the heavy lifting. Tangents can be tiring.

I tried with Snivellese, tailored to your needs. The result is boilerplate and rude but that may make it relatable for you.

Dude. The opening sentence. I can’t even. So … one can be born immoral? No tabula rasa? Freud’s out, then? You also chose a photo that lacks neutrality, one that goes for a particular symbolic effect. Don’t try so hard to entertain with an attention-grab, and don’t be a juror non-juror in the same breath. His name is the only up-front draw necessary. The rest of the essay is pretty good. No major issues or notes.