Don’t free markets just gotta be free to let the eagle soar, cuz big gubmint is the devil’s work? Or wait, isn’t that the 24-hour poppy gander? What do those men behind the curtain actually say to each other? Do they REALLY, simplistically think that about 47% of us deserve to live in the gutter because we’re just looking for handjobs? Wait, that was Mr. Mittens, propagatin more poppy gander to another demi graphic. When will a hot mic pick up real chatter from deep in the brain of the ever-squeezing python? Maybe it’s trickling down finally in all those Wikileaks, but I’m not feeling wet yet, know what I’m saying?
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“Todd, clean up your shit”?
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Yes. I mean yes? No, I really mean yes. I’m not joking, and doesn’t it make me sick?
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Are we sure @anon15383236 meant “handjobs” and not say “hand-outs”?
I may be old, but doesn’t “handjob” mean something very different than “hand-out”?
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I for one welcome our hand-job providing overlor… errr no wait that sounds kinda bad doesn’t it?
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Doesn’t one handjob equal two handouts?
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You use two hands for a handjob?
Have I been doing it wrong all these years?
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Shouldn’t you stop listening to all of that lamestream poppy gander about people like us, always looking for a handjob? And shouldn’t we put both of our hands on the fishing pole that our betters gave us instead of a fish? Shouldn’t we all follow odors, stop wanking, and start working?
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Aernt we all talking about that song and ‘dance’ from the Fifties?
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By 50s do you mean the 70s and the movie Grease?
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Who else hates FedEx with the fire of a thousand suns?
And who fully expected to be on the computer all day at home waiting for their FedEx delivery of frozen tamales from Tucson Tamale Company, ready to run to the door if the dog gives any indication there might be someone there because the last time they didn’t bother ringing the doorbell and the PERISHABLE package of frozen tamales sat in a warehouse over a 3-day weekend in the middle of a summer heatwave?
And who got a doorbell ring and a smiling, friendly FedEx delivery person in time to actually get on with the rest of her day, instead!!!
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Haven’t I have literally camped out inside the front door with cocktails and munchies only for the dude to somehow still manage to lightly poke the very first centimetre into the letter slot before sliding away into the shadows like some ultra ninja?
Surely they must get special training for this ability?
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Since I too hate FedEx with the fire of a thousand sons, aren’t I glad that the maleman delivers my frozen females?
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Does anybody want to see my handy Venn digram noting the differences/overlap between “people” and “people looking for a handjob”?
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Are you trying to give me an apoplectic fit? 
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ta-ta for now?
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How did you guess?!
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Femail intuition?
Wait, is that backwards?
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