@Linkerbaan@lemmy.world

If I had to guess, the oldest thing in there is probably some ultra-rare fetish porn involving God knows what—maybe even insects, who knows. It’s the kind of stuff you end up with after a week-long meth bender, where you’ve been awake for days, tweaking out of your mind, and your brain is so fried that anything goes. I’m talking about the kind of porn that’s so bizarre and niche, it probably shouldn’t even exist. That file has likely been sitting there for years, a grim reminder of a time when sleep deprivation and bad decisions led me down some seriously twisted rabbit holes.

Damn, man, with all your teeth gone, I guess the universe is telling you it’s time to switch to IV, huh? No more chomping down on the pipe—now you’ve got the perfect excuse to go straight to the veins. On the bright side, at least you don’t have to worry about your teeth falling out anymore—they’re already gone! Looks like it’s all about that gum game now, right?

If you want someone to understand that being forcibly drafted and ordered to invade another country isn’t just a bad idea but a downright tragedy, let’s put it in perspective. Imagine you’re just living your life—going to school, working a job, or raising a family—and suddenly, you’re yanked out of that and thrown into a warzone. You’re given no choice, no say, just a rifle, and a command to invade a place you know nothing about, all for reasons that have nothing to do with you.

This isn’t about defending freedom; it’s about being a pawn in a game played by U.S. politicians who are more interested in buying their next yacht than in the lives of the people they send to die. These are the same folks who might be snorting heroin in one breath, chasing it down with a hit of DMT or PCP in the next, all while contemplating their next political move. And let’s not forget Hunter Biden, probably somewhere in the mix, lighting up a crack pipe while surrounded by the latest scandal.

They’re far removed from the battlefield, making decisions that will never impact them directly. They’re too busy floating on their luxury yachts, possibly fueled by the profits of their next arms deal, to care about the human cost. These decisions aren’t just made in some sterile boardroom; they’re made in a haze of substance-fueled excess, where the life of a drafted soldier is nothing more than a means to an end, another dollar in their pocket.

So, when you’re forced into that situation, it’s not about honor or patriotism—it’s about serving the interests of those who are more concerned with their next high or their next luxury purchase than with your life. It’s about being used, discarded, and forgotten, all so a few people can continue living their lives in obscene excess.

Dude, that’s some next-level nightmare fuel. So, your email’s getting hit harder than me on a weekend bender, and now some joker’s ordering a PS5 to a sketchy address? Sounds like a bad trip. First off, lock everything down tighter than a bottle of cheap vodka—I’m talking changing passwords, upping that 2FA game, and maybe even looking into a password manager if you haven’t already.

But honestly, if they’ve been poking around in your email like it’s a free-for-all, you might need to nuke that thing from orbit. I know it sucks to think about, especially with all those accounts tied to it, but it’s better than letting some cyber junkie run wild with your info. Maybe set up a new email for the important stuff, keep it under wraps like your last stash, and slowly start moving things over. And for the love of whatever, stay on top of your security game—ain’t nothing worse than waking up to a digital hangover that costs you more than your last bender.

Martial arts? Hell, the only rounds I do these days are with a needle full of fent or some nitro buzz in a McDonald’s bathroom, just trying to keep my head above water. Did some boxing when I was a kid, but now my self-defense is more about dodging the cops and finding a spot to crash before the tranq kicks in. Lip-reading? Man, the only thing I’m reading is the bottom of the bottle. But hey, if you’re thinking of getting into Kung Fu, good on you. Maybe you’ll be the one to punch through the mess the rest of us are drowning in.

Default sort? I just set mine to ‘New’ to keep up with the one guy who posts a thousand news articles per minute. The rest of the users are either trolls or the braindead few who haven’t realized they’re the last ones left in this digital wasteland. It’s like watching the end of the internet in slow motion.

Morning motivation routine? Oh, it’s a finely tuned process. First, I snort a casual 50mg of Adderall to wake up the brain cells. Then, I chug a can of monster, but not before I stir in a dash of crushed Euro Speed—gotta keep the heart rate interesting. Next, I sprinkle a 200mg crack rock into my morning coffee, because why not? And just before stepping out, I inject a solid 100mg of meth straight into the arm for that extra ‘let’s conquer the world’ vibe. All of this in under four minutes, and honestly, it’s not that bad. Life is beautiful… unless you eat 369 pills of Benadryl, then things get a bit weird.

My most important file is an insanely customized, self-compiled binary on Gentoo, embedded with multiple layers of encrypted payloads—using a hybrid of AES-256 and RSA, stored in a hidden LUKS partition on a remote server. The entire setup is wrapped in a fortress of security-hardened CFLAGS, with each layer only accessible via a complex, time-sensitive keystroke sequence using a YubiKey. The system is so finely tuned that it only runs on a specific kernel version optimized for speed and stealth, pivoting through an ever-shifting network of proxy chains. If anyone tries to tamper with it, the dead man’s switch wipes everything in an instant. Good luck finding it OP.

If I had to relive a nightmare, it would be the one where I was pulled into a world that seemed alive, where reality warped under the influence of DMT. The shadows weren’t just shadows—they were entities, dark and seductive, drawing me closer with every step. LSD twisted my perception until nothing felt real, and heroin dulled my senses just enough to keep me trapped in the terror.

Then came the heat, a suffocating fire from within, as if the DNP had turned my body into a furnace. Those shadowy figures became more than just observers—they were lovers, pulling me into their embrace. But their touch was tainted, carrying the threat of something deadly, a disease that felt all too real. I tried to fight it, but the nightmare looped, dragging me deeper into its dark, suffocating grip, making me relive every terrifying moment as if escape was just an illusion.