/fa/ - Fashion

Get mad you son of a bitches! Get mad! You want to know what it takes to be a chad? It takes BRASS BALLS to be a chad! Go and do likewise, gents. The rolexes are out there. You pick it up, it's yours. You don't, I got no sympathy for you. You wanna go out on those rolex ADs today and close. CLOSE! It's yours. If not, you're gonna be shining my shoes. And you know what you'll be saying - a bunch of losers sittin' around in a bar? "Oh yeah. I am a poorfag. It's a tough racket." These are the new watches. These are the grails. And to you they're gold, and you don't get them. Why? Because to give them to you is just throwing them away. They're for chads. I'd wish you all good luck, but you wouldn't know what to do with it if you got it.

Order is the barrier that holds back the flood of death. We must all of us on this train of life remain in our allotted station. We must each of us occupy our preordained particular position. Would you wear a Rolex as a chud? Of course you wouldn't wear a Rolex as a chud. A Rolex doesn't belong to a chud. A Tooter belongs to a chud. A Rolex belongs to a chad. I am a chad. You are a chud. Rolex belongs to me. Tooter belongs to you. Yes? So it is. In the beginning, order was proscribed by your ticket: First Class, Economy, and freeloaders like you. Eternal order is prescribed by the sacred engine: all things flow from the sacred engine, all things in their place, all passengers in their section, all water flowing. all heat rising, pays homage to the sacred engine, in its own particular preordained position. So it is. Now, as in the beginning, I fuck the pussy. You molest your nephew. When the chud seeks the place of the chad, the sacred line is crossed. Know your place. Keep your place. Be a tooter chud.