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10892533 No.10892533 [Reply] [Original]

Yesterday I visited the smartcontract.com main office in the course of my company's contract bid to provide comprehensive security for Sergey Nazarov in particular plus everyone & everything he works directly with.

>inb4 larp; opsec companies do not reveal their clients

That's correct; you may safely deduce that we are *not* providing services to Mr. Nazarov, et al. Needless to say, we decided not to pursue this client for a variety of reasons (but I'll still tell you out of boredom from this airport barstool while I await my connecting flight back home).

Before getting into some of these reasons, I want to let you know that Sergey is infatuated with your memes. Each wall of his office is plastered with color prints of *every* ChainLink meme I've ever seen (and many I've not seen before). Each is framed by an array of colored-coded tacks, and hundreds of strings of color-coded yarn connect them in intricate patterns of relation.

>> No.10892541
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>>10892533

>> No.10892579

does he know about (((this))) one?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KzWjpjnRf-s

>> No.10892617
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>>10892533
Thank you for these insights into his character, anon.
My investor friends at ING will be VERY interested to hear this.

>> No.10892713
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>>10892533
Each wall has a theme: "Shill Wall," "Fud wall," "Sergey" and "Other," although he has different names for them, like "Poo Poo Pajeet Street Number Poo" & "Pee Pee Pajeet Street Nember Pee," but he constantly changes his personal lexicon so frequently to, as he puts it: "match fluctuations in the memeosphere," that the names change hourly, with wall-names undergoing evolutionary recombinations, alterations, and even reassignment to other walls. Only his genius (or, perhaps, madness) could keep track.

He once referred to every wall as "Whoa, Jack," except for "*that* one wall in particular -- don't fucking lookatit! -- which should never be named; seriously: fuck that wall!" He then proceeded to literally fuck that wall for about an hour & a half, leaving several holes in the drywall, before going totally silent for the rest of the afternoon, until sunset, at which point he would not shut up.

He stares for hours at the memes, just spacing out and muttering to himself between bouts of hysterical laughter, hysterical apoplexy & abject catatonia.

Sometimes he'll shout something like "One Kay Ee Oh Why," then furiously cobble together a fresh meme in -- not Photoshop -- but the Linux application GIMP (which he somehow uses faster than the best Photoshopper Photoshops in Photoshop) on a custom Gentoo running Ratpoison before posting it anonymously on 4chan.

He spends hours & hours doing this, lurking & shitposting on 4chan. His employees report that he seldom leaves his office, and is believed to sometimes spend entire weeks in there, not even leaving to relieve himself.

>> No.10892728
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>>10892713
His office smells... indescribable. Empty McDonald's food containers, bottles filled with urine of various darknesses (plus one that clearly filled nearly to the brim with ejaculate), a crusty hot plate on which he heats old Big Macs and "hot knifes" bricks of hashish, a wastepaper basket containing a leaky trash bag half-full of empty vodka bottles and vomit, a black-skinned onahole taped to a paint can shaker which was clearly stolen from Lowe's, dozens of old, crusty socks, a battered bucket with the word "shit" scrawled on it, two lumpy, heavy contractor bags which he flips out about if you so much as look at them, a colorful mold colony in the carpet, strange stains across the windows (the blinds are always closed & disarrayed as if someone attacked them bodily), a totally forgotten aquarium filled with opaque green muck, a waterbong made out of an old milk carton (which was not cleaned before construction), a pyramid of empty energy drink cans, and too much else to report here all conspire to produce an aroma vaguely reminiscent of an unexpected stillbirth produced mid-coitus by the filthiest whore I ever knew (I somehow finished).

To say that Sergey dominates a conversation is an understatement: to "speak" with him is to suffer the harranguing monologues of a schizophrenic megalomaniac; he literally ignores anything that anyone else has to say, taking advantage of the pause in his diatribe to drink or eat before suddenly interrupting you -- not just mid-sentance or even mid-word -- mid-SYLLABLE with something COMPLETELY non-sequitor, as if it were the most important thing in the world at that very instant, spiced with thinly veiled insults and solemn "shout-outs" to a variety of deceased hip-hop & rap artists.

>> No.10892753

>>10892713
Man even if Chainlink becomes nothing (1% of that happening), I will still remember these memes. You guys make laugh every time. On behalf of everyone thx for keeping us occupied in these harsh bear times.

>> No.10892793
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>>10892728
Despite the mess, I never saw any flies in his office... until late last night, around midnight, when a single, bloated housefly lazily bumbled through the door when a mute secretary brought Sergey his nightly bento box.

Sergey absolutely lost his shit, drew a well-worn Makarov pistol and point-shot the fly out of the air on his first shot (the round impacted with the wall behind, traveled down the hall and buried itself in a large multifunction office machine in the printing corral.

He then angrily stalked to the window, threw open the blinds, then magdumped indiscriminately through the glass at the city skyline.

I remained calm, quiet and still as he hurled the empty handgun out of the broken window and to the street below before sulkily returning to his desk, sitting sullenly and burying his head in his folded arms like a school child taking a nap at his desk.

I tried getting up to leave, but this elicited a desperate sob from Sergey each time, so I remained there for some time.

Moments later an entire cleaning crew and a couple of general contractors entered; when they left two hours later, the wall & window were repaired, and the office was perfectly clean; only Sergey, his desk and his memes remained.

I heard him mutter "thousand dollars end of year" somnolently just before he began snoring before I took my opportunity to depart, intending never again to return.

If you have been contacted to work for this depraved lunatic, I urge you to decline; otherwise, I strongly suggest that you hold on to your fucking hat, because working for Sergey Nazarov is in the Super Stinky Ultra Big Leagues. One thousand end of year.
>for more please get at me -- turnovertherecord at gmail -- also please inquire about my purebred tactical k9 security company

>> No.10892909 [DELETED] 
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>>10892533
>>10892713
>>10892728
>>10892793
>thank you all for reading; happy to contribute in some small way to the chainlink memes which inspire us all so much
>mfw stinky cryptocultist