Useless Thread MCMXCVII - 51 Year Old Spams His Plushies (Xmas Still Canceled)

GIADF

Not A Mod
Aug 17, 2024
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@GIADF - "I won't return to discord, the people there suck."

@GIADF - posts constantly in discord

Shit like this is why you are sometimes one of my least favorite people on this site. You and your flip flopping. If you're going to say something stand by your word. f***.

You think I give a f*** what you think about me plushie boy?
 

John Price

pro gambler/drinker
Sep 19, 2008
386,895
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You think I give a f*** what you think about me plushie boy?
You literally told me you wouldn't discord again because the people there suck, but you're there right now talking to them.

You contradicted yourself.
 

GIADF

Not A Mod
Aug 17, 2024
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well at least we don't have to deal with your shit here if you discord all the time

whatever

you and your lame ass dad jokes. I'd rather take a no-effort ChatGPT copypasta story (I don't read it, by the way) over your crappy lame jokes. You aren't a comedian!

And before you judge @PanthersPens62 Ray left of his own volition. Nobody chased him away from here.

Ah, so you're in one of those moods to just make things up to be mad about. Got it.

You literally told me you wouldn't discord again because the people there suck, but you're there right now talking to them.

You contradicted yourself.

I don't think I ever said this and if I did it certainly wouldn't have been in a serious conversation with you of all people.
 

John Price

pro gambler/drinker
Sep 19, 2008
386,895
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GIADF and the Unexpected Detour​


GIADF was not your average cyclist. His name, a curious acronym for "Greatly Inspired and Driven Fellow," mirrored his personality—he approached life with fervor and his bike with devotion. Clad in his signature neon-green cycling jersey, GIADF was a familiar sight on the winding trails and narrow roads of Cedar Valley. He knew every bend, bump, and hill, or so he thought.


On a crisp Saturday morning, GIADF set out on his usual 50-mile ride. The air was tinged with the scent of dew and pine, and the sun peeked through the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of orange and pink. GIADF felt invincible. His bike, a sleek carbon-fiber masterpiece, glided effortlessly over the asphalt.


The first 20 miles were uneventful. GIADF’s legs moved in a rhythmic cadence, and his mind wandered—to his upcoming charity race, the joy of cycling, and, occasionally, the odd shapes of passing clouds. Then came the hill.


The hill was infamous among local cyclists, nicknamed “Heartbreak Peak” for its grueling incline. But GIADF was no stranger to it. He shifted gears and leaned forward, pushing himself with every ounce of strength. Halfway up, his tire struck a small stone, sending a jarring vibration through the bike.


“Just a bump,” he muttered, shaking it off.


Reaching the summit, GIADF let out a triumphant whoop and prepared for the exhilarating descent. As he gained speed, the world blurred into streaks of green and blue. He leaned into a sharp turn, the wind whistling past his ears, when he felt it—a wobble. The front tire quivered, then buckled.


“No, no, no!” GIADF shouted as the handlebars twisted violently. He veered off the road and into a patch of tall grass, tumbling head over heels before landing with a thud. For a moment, he lay still, staring up at the sky.


“Well, that’s one way to stop,” he groaned, sitting up to survey the damage. His bike lay a few feet away, its front wheel bent like a pretzel. GIADF’s jersey was smeared with dirt, and his left knee sported a fresh scrape.


Then he noticed something odd. In his unplanned detour, he had landed next to a narrow dirt path he’d never seen before. A wooden sign, weathered and barely legible, read: “Hidden Hollow—Cyclists Welcome.”


Curiosity overrode his frustration. GIADF picked up his bike and limped down the trail, pushing it alongside him. The path wound through a dense forest, opening into a clearing where a small group of cyclists had gathered. They were fixing bikes, sharing snacks, and laughing. A makeshift repair station stood nearby, complete with tools and a pump.


“Need some help?” called out a woman in a bright yellow jersey.


“You could say that,” GIADF replied, holding up his bent wheel.


The group welcomed him warmly, and within minutes, they were working together to patch him up—bike and body. As they chatted, GIADF learned that Hidden Hollow was a secret haven for cyclists, maintained by this tight-knit community. It wasn’t on any map, known only through word of mouth.


By the time GIADF’s bike was roadworthy again, he’d made a handful of new friends and discovered a trail network he’d never imagined. What began as a mishap turned into an unexpected adventure.


As he pedaled home later that day, GIADF couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes, the best journeys come from the most unplanned detours.
 

John Price

pro gambler/drinker
Sep 19, 2008
386,895
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PanthersPens62 and the Miami Encounter​


PanthersPens62 was a dedicated sports forum poster. Known for his deep dives into hockey and college football, he had built a reputation for fiery debates, sharp wit, and a seemingly encyclopedic memory of stats and scandals. Yet, nothing in his online escapades could have prepared him for what happened when he decided to take a trip to Miami.

The trip was meant to be a break from the screen. A chance to soak up some sun, catch a Panthers game, and indulge in Cuban sandwiches. But as he wandered the streets of Miami's Brickell district one humid evening, PanthersPens62—real name Marcus—found himself face to face with a name that had long since become legendary on the forums: Nevin Shapiro.

Nevin Shapiro, the infamous Miami booster whose scandalous actions had rocked college football, was sitting at a cafe table, sipping an espresso. Despite the years since his release from prison, Shapiro still had an unmistakable air about him—equal parts charm and mischief.

Marcus’s heart raced. This was the man behind countless threads, debates, and memes. His mind screamed to play it cool, but his feet had other plans. Before he could stop himself, he was standing in front of Shapiro’s table.

“Nevin Shapiro?” Marcus blurted out.

Shapiro looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Depends. Who’s asking?”

“PanthersPens62,” Marcus said instinctively, instantly regretting using his online alias in the real world.

Shapiro chuckled. “Panthers...Pens? What is that, hockey and football? Cute. Have a seat.”

Marcus hesitated, then sat down. This was surreal. The forum debates flashed through his mind. Shapiro’s illicit gifts, the yacht parties, the fallout for the Miami Hurricanes—it all seemed larger than life, yet here the man was, calmly sipping his coffee.

“So, you’re one of those guys who’s kept my name alive on the internet,” Shapiro said, smirking. “What do you want to know? Or better yet, what do you think you know?”

Marcus stumbled over his words. “I mean, I’ve read a lot. The allegations, the NCAA stuff, the… uh, yacht.”

“Ah, the yacht,” Shapiro said, leaning back in his chair. “Let me guess. You’ve got your theories, your threads, your little conspiracy maps. But tell me, what’s the juiciest story you’ve heard about me?”

Marcus hesitated. He didn’t want to offend the man, but the chance to verify one of the most infamous rumors was too tempting.

“Is it true,” he began, “that you once gave a player… a Lamborghini for scoring a touchdown?”

Shapiro burst out laughing, drawing stares from nearby tables. “A Lamborghini? That’s creative. No, I never handed out Lambos. But hey, I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The truth is always stranger than the rumors. That’s all I’ll say.”

They talked for another half hour, Shapiro weaving anecdotes that danced around incrimination but left Marcus’s head spinning. Finally, Shapiro checked his watch and stood up.

“Well, PanthersPens62, it’s been fun. Be sure to tell your forum buddies that the legend is alive and well.” He tossed a few bills on the table and walked off into the Miami night, leaving Marcus to wonder if he’d just imagined the whole encounter.

When he logged back onto the forum that night, Marcus’s post titled “I Met Nevin Shapiro” instantly went viral. It sparked hundreds of replies, from disbelief to demands for proof. Yet, as he typed out the details of their conversation, Marcus realized something: the man behind the legend was every bit as enigmatic as the stories that surrounded him.

And somewhere in Miami, Nevin Shapiro probably chuckled, knowing that his myth was alive and kicking in the digital age.
 
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John Price

pro gambler/drinker
Sep 19, 2008
386,895
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Jon Heyman is widely appreciated in the world of sports journalism for his deep connections and consistent ability to break big stories, particularly in Major League Baseball (MLB). As an insider with a vast network of sources among players, agents, and front offices, Heyman delivers timely updates that fans and professionals alike rely on. His work with respected outlets like MLB Network and various publications has solidified his reputation as a go-to figure for credible, up-to-the-minute reporting on trades, signings, and other league developments. This reliability fosters a sense of trust and engagement among his audience.\n\nBeyond his journalistic credentials, Heyman is known for his engaging and informative writing style. He presents complex negotiations and behind-the-scenes dynamics in a way that is accessible to both casual fans and diehard baseball enthusiasts. Whether analyzing player contracts or breaking down team strategies, Heyman\u2019s ability to blend factual reporting with insightful commentary makes his work stand out. His frequent use of social media, especially Twitter, has allowed him to connect directly with fans, providing updates in real-time and furthering his reach within the baseball community.\n\nAnother reason people like Heyman is his evident passion for the game. His deep knowledge of baseball history and its evolving landscape resonates with readers who share that enthusiasm. While his opinions can sometimes spark debate, they are a reflection of his genuine investment in the sport. This combination of expertise, dedication, and approachability has endeared him to fans and cemented his place as one of the most respected voices in baseball journalism.
 

John Price

pro gambler/drinker
Sep 19, 2008
386,895
31,334
The Rise of Hope and Carter: A New Era at Forrester Creations


For years, Forrester Creations had stood as a symbol of luxury, elegance, and legacy in the fashion world. Founded by Eric Forrester, the company had become a family business where each generation left its mark. But as the old guard of the Forresters began to fade into the background, a new chapter was on the horizon—one that would be written by Hope Logan and Carter Walton.


Hope, the daughter of Brooke Logan and daughter-in-law of the Forrester family through her marriage to Liam Spencer, had spent years working at the company, learning the ropes and understanding the intricacies of the fashion industry. She had a sharp eye for design, a business-savvy mind, and an undeniable passion for bringing the Forrester legacy into the future. Yet, despite her strong credentials, Hope had always been seen as the "outsider," the Logan who never quite fit in with the Forrester family’s internal drama and complex history.


Carter Walton, on the other hand, had a different story. A former attorney who had been with the company for several years, Carter had proven himself time and time again as someone who could handle the pressure of high-stakes decisions. His relationship with Forrester Creations was always grounded in professionalism, but over time, Carter became more involved in its inner workings, offering legal counsel and helping to steer the company through legal challenges. His quiet determination and honesty had earned him the respect of many, though he remained a more reserved figure compared to the others.


As the company began to experience some turbulence, both internally and externally, the time had come for new leadership. Eric Forrester, now in his twilight years, knew it was time to pass the torch. His children—Ridge, Steffy, and Thomas—had their own ambitions and personal drama, leaving Hope and Carter as the most unlikely, yet the most capable, duo to take the reins.


It was an unspoken bond that had formed between them over the years. Hope admired Carter’s calm, collected demeanor, while Carter admired Hope’s vision and determination. They had been through highs and lows, from personal heartbreaks to corporate struggles, and their connection had only deepened. Eventually, that connection evolved into a romantic relationship, which brought even more layers of complexity to their journey.


One fateful evening, in the iconic Forrester boardroom, Eric Forrester called a meeting to announce his decision. The room was filled with the familiar faces of the Forrester family and key employees, each person waiting to hear the news. Ridge and Steffy were skeptical, Thomas was eager to protect his own interests, and even Brooke and Liam, who were present in a supportive capacity, were unsure of what this change would mean.


Eric stood before the group, his once commanding presence now softened by age. He looked around the room, his eyes lingering on Hope and Carter. “Forrester Creations has always been a company built on family. But family is not just about blood—it’s about trust, vision, and dedication,” he began. “It’s time for us to look to the future, and the future is in the hands of those who truly understand what this company stands for.”


He turned to Hope and Carter. “Hope, you’ve brought fresh ideas and a passion for design. Carter, you’ve shown unwavering loyalty and wisdom in guiding this company through challenging times. Together, you two will lead Forrester Creations into a new era.”


The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. For a moment, it seemed as if time had stood still. Finally, Hope stood up, her heart racing. She had always known this day would come, but hearing it spoken out loud made it feel more real than ever.


“Thank you, Eric,” she said, her voice steady. “This is a huge responsibility, but I’m ready. We’re ready. Carter and I believe in this company and its legacy. Together, we will make Forrester Creations stronger than ever.”


Carter, ever the calm presence, added, “We understand the challenges ahead, but we’re committed to moving this company forward, while honoring the traditions that made it great.”


There were murmurs around the room, some skeptical, others cautiously optimistic. But it was clear that a new chapter had begun at Forrester Creations.


The first months of Hope and Carter’s leadership were a whirlwind. They faced immediate challenges from within the company, with some employees questioning their ability to lead given their relatively new status in the business. Thomas and Steffy, particularly, pushed back against their decisions, arguing that they lacked the necessary experience to run the empire. But Hope and Carter were resolute, making strategic decisions that focused on innovation, sustainability, and expanding Forrester's digital presence—areas where the company had previously lagged behind.


Despite the resistance, they earned the support of key allies like Eric, who quietly watched from the sidelines, proud of the pair’s unwavering commitment. Brooke and Liam, too, were there for support, though they could only do so much to shield them from the corporate storms. What made Hope and Carter truly formidable was their ability to rely on one another.


Their bond grew not just as colleagues but as partners. The trust they shared was palpable, and it was this unity that allowed them to overcome the pressure and the constant scrutiny. Together, they built a vision that was forward-thinking, focusing on diversity in design, ethical fashion, and expanding the brand’s presence globally.


Their personal relationship deepened as well. Hope and Carter had always been there for one another, through difficult family moments and career setbacks. Now, they found themselves navigating the complexities of leadership together. Their mutual respect and admiration for one another transformed into something stronger—love. In quiet moments, away from the business world, they found peace in each other’s company, knowing that no matter what, they were in this together.


As Forrester Creations flourished under their leadership, Hope and Carter proved the doubters wrong. They were more than just a romantic pair—they were the future of the company. Together, they blended the legacy of the Forresters with their own vision, bringing a breath of fresh air to the iconic brand. They had taken the helm of the company, not just as leaders, but as a power couple that would define Forrester Creations for generations to come.


And so, the story of Forrester Creations continued, now driven by the innovation, heart, and ambition of Hope and Carter, as they carved out their own legacy in the ever-evolving world of fashion.
 
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GIADF

Not A Mod
Aug 17, 2024
2,228
2,586
busy workin

By work do you mean other humans are paying you to stay away from them?

How much would it cost for you to not post in the UT for a day? Asking for a friend.

busy workin


I wasn't the first to do it and if it displeases you go run off to discord baby boy


There is a difference between one here and there and you spamming 5 on the same page.
 

End of Line

Sic Semper Tyrannis
Mar 20, 2009
28,590
6,236
busy workin


I wasn't the first to do it and if it displeases you go run off to discord baby boy

IMG_2977.gif
 

John Price

pro gambler/drinker
Sep 19, 2008
386,895
31,334
@SoupNazi

Scott Boras and the Roki Sasaki Scoop​


Scott Boras leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. The luxurious office overlooking the Pacific was his command center, where some of baseball’s biggest deals had been orchestrated. This time, it wasn’t just any deal; it was historic. Roki Sasaki, the young Japanese phenom with a fastball that could make radar guns blush, had just agreed to a four-year, $100 million deal with the Cleveland Guardians. Boras’s fingerprints were all over it, and now it was time to control the narrative.


He reached for his phone and scrolled through his contacts, stopping at a name he had used many times before: Jon Heyman. Heyman was one of the most trusted voices in baseball, and Boras knew that any tweet from him would carry weight. Within moments, the call was made.


“Jon, it’s Scott,” Boras began, his voice as smooth as ever. “I’ve got something big for you, but you need to act fast.”


Heyman, used to such calls, grabbed a notepad. “What’s the scoop?” he asked, already anticipating the headlines.


“Cleveland. Sasaki. Four years, $100 million,” Boras said, savoring every word. “It’s groundbreaking—first of its kind for an international player coming directly from NPB to MLB. But I want you to lead with it. Tweet it, get it out there before anyone else does. The market needs to know.”


Heyman hesitated for a split second. “Are you sure this is cleared? No last-minute snags?”


“Jon,” Boras said with a chuckle, “you know me better than that. It’s done. Signed, sealed, delivered. Trust me, this will set the baseball world on fire.”


Minutes later, Heyman’s Twitter account exploded with the news: “BREAKING: Cleveland Guardians sign Japanese star Roki Sasaki to 4-year, $100M deal. First reported by sources close to the negotiations.” Fans and analysts alike flooded the platform with reactions, from astonishment at Cleveland’s bold move to debates about Sasaki’s transition to MLB.


Boras watched the frenzy unfold on his own screen, a faint smirk on his face. His calculated leak had worked perfectly, positioning Sasaki’s signing not just as a coup for Cleveland but as a testament to his own negotiating prowess. For Boras, it was just another day in the business of baseball.
 

GIADF

Not A Mod
Aug 17, 2024
2,228
2,586
Ah, go watch your packages for porch pirates.

I don't live in an area where that is a concern. I have forgotten about packages and had them on doorstep for days and they've never been stolen.

Hell I've left our garage door open overnight with all our bikes in the open for easy pickings and those weren't been stolen.
 

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