I can hear the thought police drones flying overhead, zapping the poor Christians left on the surface. Please pray for my family.
I can hear the thought police drones flying overhead, zapping the poor Christians left on the surface. Please pray for my family.
Holed up deep in the Arctic taiga of Alaska with Santas guerillas. Rifle in one hand, month old McDonald’s French fry (probably the last I’ll ever have) in my other hand, trying to find some joy in the world
The fry should be hanging from your lip and smoldering like a cig. Smoking tato is the only manly smoke.
Santa is an Itelmen