How to build a 19,000,000-feminist blowjob trap for deadbeat dingbats: today's TERRIBLE advice
FB’s “TERRIBLE advice” group births GLORIOUS creative chaos. It’s funky. It’s fab. It ups life’s Good Bits. Do try some:
Alice asks
My deadbeat dad blocked me, what should I do to retaliate?
My answer
Simple. Create nineteen million fake dating-app profiles. If he's as deadbeat as you claim, then no doubt he's lurking on the lot. Match him with all your 19,000,000 fake profiles. Every single friggin' one. And then gaslight him with unbelievable thoroughness.
While you're text-massaging his ego 19 million ways, also orchestrate his dating-app match convos with oodles of cross-match comments. Make every match mention every other match. Every gal in town knows each other, and every gal in town knows him. And they all think he's great.
Well. Semi-great. Quasi-great. These 19 million gorgeous ladies reckon this deadbeat dingbat is indeed on the PATH to greatness.
If.
Have every match tell him that there's a certain man and/or woman about town called Alice. And they all think Alice is just peachy, and super, and ever so fab. Alice is rad. Everyone wants to be nice to Alice, and to cultivate niceness-to-Alice in others.
So ... IF Mr. Deadbeat can just find it within his heart to reconsider his Alice-block? Then: Holy moly guacamole: all nineteen million ladies pinky-promise-with-sprinkles-on-top that they'll all perform unto him the most thorough and sensual blowjob ever performed.
You know how certain porn videos depict three ladies all performing a blowjob on a single fella? Bah. A piffly three? Three is zilch. You've not lived until you've experienced a nineteen-MILLION-gal blowjob. And neither has he. So naturally he will thrum and burst with frantic excitement. Tell him all nineteen million of you ache and thirst to burst him, so won't he please please come to a certain address?
That address is the location of the next https://wplsummit.org/. For those not in the know, it's an annual-ish convention of every female political leader in the world. Instruct him from nineteen million directions that ladies worldwide hunger for steely strength, and nothing turns us lady-leaders on like some bold and assertive domineering. All he must do is stride through the Summit's front doors like a masculine colossus, head held high, and declare in a loud, clear voice that he will grant Kind Permission for every Leader-Of-Tomorrow to perform upon him the world's most colossal nineteen-million-way group blowjob.
Then you can probably just nick his phone from his pulverised corpse. Problem solved.
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2022/2/how-to-build-a-19-000-000-feminist-blowjob-trap-for-deadbeat-dingbats-todays-terrible-advice
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Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
On outshining the entire human race a hundredfold, pulverising the world's bra industry, lactating helium, 24/7/2 handstands, and frostbitey fashion perfection: today's TERRIBLE advice
“THIS WAS SOO COOL TO READ”
Mt. Doom vs Chernobyl, billions of twitchy-schnozzed squirrels, and ceramic/asbestos rigor mortis: today’s TERRIBLE advice
“This "Sexyverse Advice" piece is a wild ride through a chaotic, creative landscape that feels like it’s built on a foundation of pure "Terrible Advice." The contrast between the apocalyptic imagery of Mt. Doom and Chernobyl and the surreal visual of "twitchy-schnozzed squirrels" creates a sharp, funky friction. It captures that exact moment when the "Good Bits" of life are found in the most unpredictable and glorious messes.”
Cross-breeding Mike Tyson with Ron Jeremy, monetising concussions, and flaying Ayn Rand fans: today's TERRIBLE advice
“Wow that's some of the most hilarious and funniest, wildest shit I ever read! Thank you! That's absolutely fucking brilliant! Like the Mike Tyson/Ron Jeremy mash up!? Genius!”
Bullshit Banquet: the SEXYVERSE NOVELS
*ahem*
IN A WORLD where wars are fought with romance and flirting and delicious erotic TENSION, the rivalries throbbing between history’s Great Powers have become a BUTTLOAD more bubbly, with fewer hideous massacres of musket and cannon, and OODLES more frisky cunnilingus contests:
The Sex Commandos Thwart The Third Vaginal Apocalypse
Part One: The Knights Of Raw Phwoar
Might Earth’s free nations drown under terrifying tornadoes of French femme-foam? Like hell, shout Britain’s Royal Marines Sex Commandos. Let’s assassinate France’s Imperatrix Brigitte Bardot! Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?
Part Two: The Soviet Sluts Superb
Turns out out-flirting Imperatrix Bardot is like trying to wank off Mt. Blanc when it’s wanking you back. Plan B: skedaddle, regroup, out-flirt the entirety of France and get loads more practice, then it’s stealthy-sneaky Round Two or bust.
Part Three: The Cervical Supremacy
Turns out flirting with every ladybro Rambo in France produces Rivals and Frenemies and Jilted Waifus galore. Smashing fun, but utter Kryptonite for Imperial kill-plans. Like, ever tried noshing off a world leader whilst a billion fanb0is fondle your buttocks? Want to? Read on!
Part Four: The Praetorian Prostitutes
The game’s up! The irresistible force of fanb0i-fondlemania has headbutted the immovable object of a gazillion furious Paris cops. They too thirst for Sex Commando patoot. Crunch time. Either launch one final rocket-strike against Bardot and France, or Earth’s free nations forever perish.
Part Five: [soon, baby]
Click these and enjoy these and your appetites will be SATISFIED.
Bullshit Emeritus: YOUR TURN
Fancy some boutique TERRIBLE advice of your own? Comment your question or dilemma, and I’ll magic up something deliciously wicked to put a smile on your face, just for you. You put yummy in my tummy, you know that?