On my way into work today, I passed three separate SUVs (natch) with insipid, smiling decal stick figures on their rear window, detailing how many, how old, and the variety of the crotchfruit that the driver has spawned with their mate.
How I wish I had a Bondian supercar armed with rockets and chainguns and the like.
How I wish I had a Bondian supercar armed with rockets and chainguns and the like.
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