Shit if somebody invades America the Crips and the Bloods are gonna call a truce so that they can get the big toys out and call Geneva achievement. White women would ride into battle riding lions, tigers, and bears while claymore-strapped rhumbas swept the streets. There's a reason Putin keeps threatening to boom boom us with the boom booms and make you see x-rays before you go go. We have freaking cannibals still. Hell, we have more guns than people. Dodging bullets have become a rite of passage. Just look at how we raise our kids on caffeine and M16s playing Call of Duty. Then we send them into the warzone known as the American public education system with no weapons. No means to protect themselves other than with their fists. Here Timmy, fight off the bullets with your bare fist and hope you can zig-zag. Hell, the quiet kids in this country start dropping bodies just cause you teased them. The fuck you think's gonna happen when Timmy can't get his damn chicken nuggets and you took his internet out? Hell the gangs in America would no longer make their money off the drugs illegally. They'd be our medics and taking bets on kill shots. Don't even get me started on the unhinged millennials the moment they can't get their mood stabilizers. War crimes would become an art form and we'd run around like we playing Pokemon. GOTTA CATCH 'EM ALL! Americans would turn war crimes into an extreme sport while the military stands back and records it just so they can show the rest of the world the example of why not to fuck with us. Shit Geneva Convention would turn into a to-do list on every American household fridge. We take that shit so seriously we'd have comedy central sending Kevin Hart to tell us rules for engagement. Racism in America would be single-handedly by ended as Billy Bob and Tyrone high five because they think they just unlocked the super secret duck hunt level with foreign paratroopers. Shit somebody please threaten us with a good time. Invade the united states. Let us show you why the first color in our flag is red.
2 hunter are walking in the forest together. Hunter #2 flops down, unconscious, and and hunter #1 dials 911. Operator: "911 what's your emergency?" Hunter no. 1: "The other hunter, hunting with me in the woods fell asleep." Operator: "Check if he's / she's (not assuming genders) dead." *Operator hears a distant gunshot* Hunter no. 1: "What do I do next?"
Ur so ugly that when u came out of the hunted house u had a job offer
You I didn’t see you there the pizza place is hunted bad so you are scared 😱😱😱😱 and so you run and you see your grandma and you were happy again forever and ever ha ha so funny 😁 The end or is it bye-bye
💡 idea. Start a confidential organization that only recruits via invite. Stockpile heavy duty weapons in an si when the time comes we can defend America from any domestic threat. *just a silly idea*
Man: I'm here for the job interview Employer: Oh good, good. Sit down. We don't get many people for the interviews. Man: Just anywhere? Employer: Yeah, make yourself comfortable. Jackson, right? Man: Yeah that's me. (Shakes hands and sits back down) Employer: So what makes you eligible for the job, Jackson? Man: Well, I'm really good at capturing the perfect shot and angle. it really takes dedication to do this type of job. Concentration and willpower, sir. Employer: I like you already, you're hired! Man: Wow thanks, sir. I know i won't do you wrong. I'll work hard for this job! Employer: You start now! Your first person is a man named John F Kennedy. Man: What? You want me to just take pictures of him during the parade? Employer: No. Man: This... This is a photography job right? Employer: No... this is a job employment for man hunting.
Two guys where on a hunting trip and after the first day of hunting they don’t see anything so that decide the next day they will split up and meet back at, the fire at dinner time. After a day of hunting they meet back at the fire and the one hunter asked the other how did your day go? So the one hunter said “I had the best day ever,” I went down the hill and hunted by the train tracks and saw the hottest chick ever, we had sex for hours in every position you could think of. Then the other hunter asked him “was she a good lookin blond?” And he said “ oh I don’t know I didn’t find her head”
I guy once went hunting at a Hunting Ranch .After a long day of hunting, the hunter enjoys a couple of cold ones in Rancher’s Living-room .There they were having a grand ole time then the Ranchers wife walks in .The Hunter says “that’s a nice piece of ass you got your self there”,The Rancher replied “(harsh raspy Southern chuckle from years of Marlboro Reds)You’ve never been so right in your life ,honey why don’t show our guest your tits”,.She agrees and shows the hunter her plump DD cup breast.The Hunter says “Nice”,then Rancher said show em yer peker now.She agreed and whipped out a 13 in Johny .Dazed and confused the Hunter says “What in Sam Hill is that!!”,and the Rancher replied “Now....Lemme tell you..There ain’t a thing like it”.
Don't Touch My Truck-By: Breland and Sam Hunt
You can drink my liquor You can call my lady You can take my money You can smoke my blunt Scuff these Jordans You can say you hate me You can call me crazy, but Don't touch my truck (skrrt, skrrt) Skrrt (yeah, yeah) Skrrt Don't touch my truck (brrp, yeah) Skrrt (woo-oh) Skrrt Don't touch my V8 engine with the windows tinted Boy, we came from the bottom, got it out the mud Whole block jumpin' 'cause the subs stay hittin' If they roll up on me, know I keep one tucked (ooh, yeah) Woo Tell them boys come and get me I be ridin' through the city Young, rich and I'm pretty Homie, don't get it twisted Keep a semi in the hemi (oh) Red cup full of Henny My hitters come in plenties, for real You can drink my liquor You can call my lady You can take my money You can smoke my blunt Scuff these Jordans You can say you hate me You can call me crazy, but Don't touch my truck (skrrt, skrrt) Skrrt (yeah, yeah) Skrrt Don't touch my truck (brrp, yeah) Skrrt (woo-oh) Skrrt Don't touch my Wood grain dash with the matte black finish And it match my shawty with the big ol' butt Know them boys soft 'cause they got hard feelings You can try me if you wanna go and test your luck (woo) Tell them boys come and get me (get me) I be ridin' through the city Young, rich and I'm pretty (yeah) Homie, don't get it twisted (yeah) Keep a semi in the hemi (in the hemi) Red cup full of Henny (yeah, we drinking) My hitters come in plenties, for real You can drink my liquor You can call my lady You can take my money You can smoke my blunt Scuff these Jordans You can say you hate me You can call me crazy, but Don't touch my truck Skrrt Skrrt Don't touch my truck Skrrt Skrrt Don't touch my Woo, ooh, woo, ooh, woo, ooh Don't touch my truck (woo, ooh) Don't touch my truck
The moment came. The starter dropped his red flag. "They're away!"
Not for one second did Agba need to hunt for Lath in that flying stream of horseflesh. He did not even look for the scarlet and white stripes of the jockey's body-coat. His eyes were fixed on the littlest horse, the littlest horse that got away to a bad start!
The field was far out in front. The big horses were whipping down the steep slope to Devil's Dyke, skimming along the running gap, leaping up the opposite bank and across a long flat stretch. They were beginning to bunch, making narrow gaps. Lath was coming up from behind. He began filling in the gaps. He went through them. He was a blob of watercolor, trickling along the green turf between the other colors.
For a brief second the horses were hidden by a clump of hawthorn trees. Agba's knees tightened. He felt Sham quiver beneath him, saw white flecks of sweat come out on his neck. It was well the grooms were there to hold them both!
The horses were coming around the trees now. The golden blob was still flowing between the other colors. It was flowing beyond them, flowing free!
In full stride, Lath was galloping down the dip and up the rise to the ending post. He was flying past it, leaving the "lusty" horses behind.
"The little horse wins!"
"Lath, an easy winner!"
"Lath, son of Godolphin Arabian, wins!"
People of all ages and all ranks clapped their hands and cheered in wild notes of triumph.
Agba never knew how he and Sham reached the royal stand. But suddenly, there they were. And the Earl of Godolphin was there, too.
"I am pleased to give," Queen Caroline was saying in her sincere, straightforward manner, "I am pleased to give and bestow upon the Earl of Godolphin, the Queen's Plate."
Everyone could see it was not a plate that she held in her hands at all. It was a purse. But only Agba and the Earl knew how much that purse would mean to the future of the horse in England. The Earl looked right between the plumes in the Queen's bonnet and found Agba's eyes for an instant. Then he fell to his knees and kissed the Queen's hand.
A hush fell over the heath. The Queen's words pinged sharp and clear, like the pearls that suddenly broke from her necklace and fell upon the floor of the stand. No one stooped to recover them, for the Queen was speaking.
"And what," she asked, as she fixed one of her own purple plumes in Sham's headstall, "what is the pedigree of this proud sire of three winning horses?"
Agba leaned forward in his saddle.
There was a pause while the Earl found the right words. "Your Majesty," he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "his pedigree has been...has been lost. But perhaps it was so intended. His pedigree is written in his sons."
How the country people cheered! An unknown stallion wearing the royal purple! It was a fairy tale come true.
The princesses clapped their hands, too. Even the King seemed pleased. He puffed out his chest and nodded to the Queen that the answer was good.
Agba swallowed. He felt a tear begin to trickle down his cheek. Quickly, before anyone noticed, he raised his hand to brush it away. His hand stopped. Why, he was growing a beard! He was a man! Suddenly his mind flew back to Morocco. My name is Agba. Ba means father. I will be a father to you, Sham, and when I am grown I will ride you before the multitudes. And they will bow before you, and you will be King of the Wind. I promise it.
He had kept his word!
For the first time in his life, he was glad he could not talk. Words would have spoiled everything. They were shells that cracked and blew away in the wind. He and Sham were alike. That was why they understood each other so deeply.
The Godolphin Arabian stood very still, his regal head lifted. An east wind was rising. He stretched out his nostrils to gather in the scent. It was laden with the fragrance of wind-flowers. Of what was he thinking? Was he re-running the race of Lath? Was he rejoicing in the royal purple? Was he drawing a wood cart in the streets of Paris? Or just winging across the grassy downs in
