My good friend Erik is scanning old, old photos of eons past.
He had a moment of sadism by forwarding me one such photo of myself dated from our college days.
His wife's observation of said photo of me was quite amusing. Then I took a look and realized I didn't recognize myself.
Sweet bejebus, was I really that thin? Good lord, did I really own that t-shirt? Was I stoned when he took the photo? Is that really my hair or is that a clever photoshop?
Ah memories. Some are best kept in a blazing hot furnace until they are reduced to their component atoms and scattered across the known universe.
Don’t You Dare ‘Misinterpret’ Elon Musk’s Epstein Emails. Just the Facts
Are Bad Enough
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Sorry, but what is the correct interpretation supposed to be?
55 seconds ago
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