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| Fighting for the liberty of the fruit tree tastes nothing like the glint of sagittarius rounding itself around your uvula. I know the time will soon arrive when we will see people manufactured in crat | |
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| Legions of Communists worship your robust cannabalism of Capitalists clad in junk mail suits. | |
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| Soft sausages would gladly procreate in the bathwater of your verisimilitude. | |
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| You are as frightful as an engine developed solely for the countenance of sexual inuendo by country music. | |
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