09-12-2021, 08:30 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-12-2021, 09:47 PM by j00. Edited 4 times in total.)
Breaking News from TMC: A supposed "diary entry" from Juno Hu has been leaked, detailing the (seemingly harrowing?) account of his transition from San Jose to New Orleans.
NOTE: Due to the abhorrent nature of the content, we are required to provide trigger warnings for all of the following topics: drug abuse, kidnapping, racial insensitivity, gun violence, paranormal activity, blood pacts, sexual acts, and profanity. If any of these topics have a chance of inducing undesired biological reactions, we recommend that you do not proceed further. If you wish to unsubscribe from all future articles, please perform the following steps:
1. Navigate to your C:/Windows/ directory.
2. Delete the /System32/ directory.
3. Dispose of your computer system using your friendly neighborhood e-waste recycling services.
NOTE: We are also unable to provide the text in its uncensored form due to the newly instituted FCC regulations, so certain parts have been edited or redacted for compliance. The full, uncensored text can be found by registering on our website and verifying your account with a valid form of identification.
The sanitized text is below:
Dear Diary,
Those of you close to me would know that I have recently suffered a very big loss. The grieving process has been incredibly difficult and had been heavily affecting my on-field performance, so first I have to apologize to the people of San Jose, except to that [ducking] fake car insurance salesman! Yeah, that's right, you thought I didn't remember you? Can you believe this [mother lover]? I came to this city broke as [heaven] right, and nobody wanna sell me insurance and [feces] 'cause you know, anyway, this guy come along and try to sell me "The AA". He sayin, "[It's only 33% cheaper. It's only one less A than the name brand, you know? But still, good coverage.]" Be wary of this guy named [REDACTED] and don't buy!
Anyway San Jose, you are like the ugly duckling neglected child city of California I think, which I'm sorry to hear, but just know that deep down in your hearts, you are still better people than those in San Francisco with their hippiness and shallow [donkey] yuppie [manure], even if you have to drive all the way there for many of the major events and shows and whatnot and you hate that drive 'cause it just reminds you of how your city don't really get [feces], it's like an overpopulated suburb, but then you see all the homeless people taking [feces] on the streets and you be countin' yo blessin's on the way back, anyway I'm ranting, maybe I should get back on [100% legal mental health prescriptions] after all.
Anyway, so it be the day of my last game with San Jose, and we at home, and I'm in there right, playin' against the [very lovely] team NOLA, more like [REDACTED] amirite? Anyways, so I'm in there and we smashin'em cuz of course we are, I mean I be giving up scheme secrets about my old teammates and exploitin' the fuck out them [players]--I-I meant to say that my football IQ just that high and it exudes from me like a football IQ aura and [feces] onto my teammates sometimes cause I am a football god. Anyways, so the game is over and we destroyed 'em of course, and I'm in the locker room packin' it up and givin' props to all the now former teammates of mine, makin' sure to leave behind some big ol' [friendly farewells] on the way out.
But yea, right here I just gotta give the shoutouts:
Raylan Crowder, it was [cannabis] hittin' up the clubs with ya ol [friendly mother loving] [donkey]. Keep beastin'!
Lawrence Bass, ol' [flatulence], I hope your legs still work for that defense next season, cuz they got some [ducking] miles on them. Stay healthy.
Rickie Vaughne, you know it's cuz I always covered my guy too fuckin well they had no choice but to throw to you, right? :wink: Congrats on the record setting season.
Jamar Lackson, ay my bad for that one time in practice when I dove at your knees but luckily nothing happen, but you know you should be thanking me cuz in that week's game, you hurdled a [opposing professional football playing peer] diving at your knees on the last drive. I trained you well!
Monty Jack, I'm sorry that I waited this long to share that omega cheese burrito recipe, but that's cuz I knew you had no self control and now look at you, [ducking] lettin' yourself go and now you gotta play OL next season. Good luck with the weight loss.
Zach Crossley, thanks for all the sophisticated duels in practice, but man remember that one time you [ducking] chin checked me during hitting warmups before a game cuz you too [ducking] hype and [feces], and I had to play a [ducking] game with my teeth loose and [feces]? smh Calm down.
Willie Miller, the reins are yours. Best of luck in the upcoming seasons.
Duke Cheeks, hit 'em with the [REDACTED]! Cross the face! Stuntin'! [Bare] red raw dog!
[Haha] [Penis], ya ya I know. Sorry bruh.
To the rest of the old farts Matthew McDairmid, Philip Stein, Rashad Hilliard, George Fisher, James Lewandowski, Otis Allen, good luck on the back end.
To the new blood, get grindin'!
Aiite so with that out of the way, as I'm leavin' the main building and walking to my car, this [ducking] [African-America] van pulls up and a couple'o [hooligans] get out, put a [bag] over my head, and throw me in. They take the [bag] off, and I look around. The back of the van is all nice and [feces], like a limo, but it's got even more space 'cause it's a van. All the windows are covered. Anyways, after just a few turns, we got a whole police patrol following us with their lights on, and we are [ducking] flyin' at this point. We head down the freeway, and as I ask where they're taking me, we enter a dark tunnel and the interior lights of the van dim ominously and they all slowly remove their masks and turn to me with a very serious stare, unmoving, unblinking. It's [ducking] Cade, Buck, and Shuff with what looked like some [angelic] [holiness] in their eyes, but I was probably just trippin'. Yeah, so after the initial sc--I ain't never scared...they spark up a [REDACTED] and hand it to me. I experience deja vu as I [increase in height] on the street. Right as we exit the tunnel, the van [arrests] a hard drift to the right and guns it. We're goin faster and faster and the police following us are long gone. Cade pulls down one of the side window coverings and it looks like we're on an airport runway or some [feces]? Cade covers the window again, then a bit of turbulence happens as it feels like we climb onto a ramp at like 120mph+ or some [feces]. After a few minutes of gaining altitude, we all get out of the van, and the three send me their condolences. Cade offers me [mammary glands] to suck on and I'm like no thanks, but then he directs me to a private suite on the plane anyway cuz he a [brother], where I see the ol' gal who has been with me since we [legally transported] her in from Tijuana.
After some hours, there's an announcement over the PA asking for my presence, so girl takes my handcuffs off, and I'm directed into the [African-American] van again, where we get [ducking] airdropped onto the streets of New Orleans. We arrive at this club called The Jimanji. Pretty sure that place is haunted. We're joined by the rest of the Second Line at the door, and they let us all in. I say [unrecognized phrase] to the Slothlisberger who's a little down from the loss, and I tell him I got a crazy omega cheese burrito recipe that I'll share with him later. It's a great depression snack, I promise you. Just be careful with it. Anyways so I ask Adam Spencer and Cade, "IsHe... gonna be here?" and they both nod, but the [ducker] never showed up. Anyways, so we inside, drinkin' it up, and I could not for the life of me figure out how the [duck] the drinks were comin' to the table and shit. They were just floatin' through the air, [feces] was crazy, and they just kept comin' 'til I [African-American]ed out!
Next day in the afternoon, I find myself waking up in a nice [donkey] bed and room with two [baby chickens] next to me, all my legs feeling quite a bit sore...from the game, I think. I get up outta bed and leave the room, which opens into a common area, with a fancy table nearby. On the table is a set of housekeys, and a large sheet of fancy paper with a bunch of small text on it and a sharp pointed dagger. I walk up and start reading all the lawyerspeak jargon [manure] and before I even get more than a line in, I hear a click next to my ear as a [REDACTED] presses up against my temple. I immediately know to [REDACTED]. The [REDACTED] leaves my temple, and I turn to the right to see a woman I'd never met before, but she in a fancy outfit and asks if she can help me, hands empty. I say, "Why, hello there, 'course you can help me," and I reach down suggestively into my front pocket, where I pull out a bag of [flowers] and tell her to roll that [feces] up. You mean to tell me I get my own [dull] roller? [Feeeeeeeeeeeces]. She said she got some other skills too, so I'ma put her to the test later.
At the bottom of the contract is a detachable $5 million check, and on the bottom of the check is a very stylized "Welcome to the New Orleans Second Line" on a piece of purple perforated blotted paper. I walk out onto the deck to a spectacular view. The house sits in the hills north of Covington, facing south. Lake Pontchartrain can be seen off in the fair distance. [Dull] roller walks up behind me, hands me a pair of shades and says, "This place gon' be waterfront property in a few years. It's premium." Can't believe it. Front row seats to impending devastation. I throw on the shades and throw the whole sheet in my mouth...
NOTE: The above article was automatically annotated for public consumption using SaveSpace v0.4.2, a newly developed experimental machine learning powered technology. Please report all errors and feedback to the SaveSpace team.
------------------------
1.5x please.
NOTE: Due to the abhorrent nature of the content, we are required to provide trigger warnings for all of the following topics: drug abuse, kidnapping, racial insensitivity, gun violence, paranormal activity, blood pacts, sexual acts, and profanity. If any of these topics have a chance of inducing undesired biological reactions, we recommend that you do not proceed further. If you wish to unsubscribe from all future articles, please perform the following steps:
1. Navigate to your C:/Windows/ directory.
2. Delete the /System32/ directory.
3. Dispose of your computer system using your friendly neighborhood e-waste recycling services.
NOTE: We are also unable to provide the text in its uncensored form due to the newly instituted FCC regulations, so certain parts have been edited or redacted for compliance. The full, uncensored text can be found by registering on our website and verifying your account with a valid form of identification.
The sanitized text is below:
Dear Diary,
Those of you close to me would know that I have recently suffered a very big loss. The grieving process has been incredibly difficult and had been heavily affecting my on-field performance, so first I have to apologize to the people of San Jose, except to that [ducking] fake car insurance salesman! Yeah, that's right, you thought I didn't remember you? Can you believe this [mother lover]? I came to this city broke as [heaven] right, and nobody wanna sell me insurance and [feces] 'cause you know, anyway, this guy come along and try to sell me "The AA". He sayin, "[It's only 33% cheaper. It's only one less A than the name brand, you know? But still, good coverage.]" Be wary of this guy named [REDACTED] and don't buy!
Anyway San Jose, you are like the ugly duckling neglected child city of California I think, which I'm sorry to hear, but just know that deep down in your hearts, you are still better people than those in San Francisco with their hippiness and shallow [donkey] yuppie [manure], even if you have to drive all the way there for many of the major events and shows and whatnot and you hate that drive 'cause it just reminds you of how your city don't really get [feces], it's like an overpopulated suburb, but then you see all the homeless people taking [feces] on the streets and you be countin' yo blessin's on the way back, anyway I'm ranting, maybe I should get back on [100% legal mental health prescriptions] after all.
Anyway, so it be the day of my last game with San Jose, and we at home, and I'm in there right, playin' against the [very lovely] team NOLA, more like [REDACTED] amirite? Anyways, so I'm in there and we smashin'em cuz of course we are, I mean I be giving up scheme secrets about my old teammates and exploitin' the fuck out them [players]--I-I meant to say that my football IQ just that high and it exudes from me like a football IQ aura and [feces] onto my teammates sometimes cause I am a football god. Anyways, so the game is over and we destroyed 'em of course, and I'm in the locker room packin' it up and givin' props to all the now former teammates of mine, makin' sure to leave behind some big ol' [friendly farewells] on the way out.
But yea, right here I just gotta give the shoutouts:
Raylan Crowder, it was [cannabis] hittin' up the clubs with ya ol [friendly mother loving] [donkey]. Keep beastin'!
Lawrence Bass, ol' [flatulence], I hope your legs still work for that defense next season, cuz they got some [ducking] miles on them. Stay healthy.
Rickie Vaughne, you know it's cuz I always covered my guy too fuckin well they had no choice but to throw to you, right? :wink: Congrats on the record setting season.
Jamar Lackson, ay my bad for that one time in practice when I dove at your knees but luckily nothing happen, but you know you should be thanking me cuz in that week's game, you hurdled a [opposing professional football playing peer] diving at your knees on the last drive. I trained you well!
Monty Jack, I'm sorry that I waited this long to share that omega cheese burrito recipe, but that's cuz I knew you had no self control and now look at you, [ducking] lettin' yourself go and now you gotta play OL next season. Good luck with the weight loss.
Zach Crossley, thanks for all the sophisticated duels in practice, but man remember that one time you [ducking] chin checked me during hitting warmups before a game cuz you too [ducking] hype and [feces], and I had to play a [ducking] game with my teeth loose and [feces]? smh Calm down.
Willie Miller, the reins are yours. Best of luck in the upcoming seasons.
Duke Cheeks, hit 'em with the [REDACTED]! Cross the face! Stuntin'! [Bare] red raw dog!
[Haha] [Penis], ya ya I know. Sorry bruh.
To the rest of the old farts Matthew McDairmid, Philip Stein, Rashad Hilliard, George Fisher, James Lewandowski, Otis Allen, good luck on the back end.
To the new blood, get grindin'!
Aiite so with that out of the way, as I'm leavin' the main building and walking to my car, this [ducking] [African-America] van pulls up and a couple'o [hooligans] get out, put a [bag] over my head, and throw me in. They take the [bag] off, and I look around. The back of the van is all nice and [feces], like a limo, but it's got even more space 'cause it's a van. All the windows are covered. Anyways, after just a few turns, we got a whole police patrol following us with their lights on, and we are [ducking] flyin' at this point. We head down the freeway, and as I ask where they're taking me, we enter a dark tunnel and the interior lights of the van dim ominously and they all slowly remove their masks and turn to me with a very serious stare, unmoving, unblinking. It's [ducking] Cade, Buck, and Shuff with what looked like some [angelic] [holiness] in their eyes, but I was probably just trippin'. Yeah, so after the initial sc--I ain't never scared...they spark up a [REDACTED] and hand it to me. I experience deja vu as I [increase in height] on the street. Right as we exit the tunnel, the van [arrests] a hard drift to the right and guns it. We're goin faster and faster and the police following us are long gone. Cade pulls down one of the side window coverings and it looks like we're on an airport runway or some [feces]? Cade covers the window again, then a bit of turbulence happens as it feels like we climb onto a ramp at like 120mph+ or some [feces]. After a few minutes of gaining altitude, we all get out of the van, and the three send me their condolences. Cade offers me [mammary glands] to suck on and I'm like no thanks, but then he directs me to a private suite on the plane anyway cuz he a [brother], where I see the ol' gal who has been with me since we [legally transported] her in from Tijuana.
After some hours, there's an announcement over the PA asking for my presence, so girl takes my handcuffs off, and I'm directed into the [African-American] van again, where we get [ducking] airdropped onto the streets of New Orleans. We arrive at this club called The Jimanji. Pretty sure that place is haunted. We're joined by the rest of the Second Line at the door, and they let us all in. I say [unrecognized phrase] to the Slothlisberger who's a little down from the loss, and I tell him I got a crazy omega cheese burrito recipe that I'll share with him later. It's a great depression snack, I promise you. Just be careful with it. Anyways so I ask Adam Spencer and Cade, "IsHe... gonna be here?" and they both nod, but the [ducker] never showed up. Anyways, so we inside, drinkin' it up, and I could not for the life of me figure out how the [duck] the drinks were comin' to the table and shit. They were just floatin' through the air, [feces] was crazy, and they just kept comin' 'til I [African-American]ed out!
Next day in the afternoon, I find myself waking up in a nice [donkey] bed and room with two [baby chickens] next to me, all my legs feeling quite a bit sore...from the game, I think. I get up outta bed and leave the room, which opens into a common area, with a fancy table nearby. On the table is a set of housekeys, and a large sheet of fancy paper with a bunch of small text on it and a sharp pointed dagger. I walk up and start reading all the lawyerspeak jargon [manure] and before I even get more than a line in, I hear a click next to my ear as a [REDACTED] presses up against my temple. I immediately know to [REDACTED]. The [REDACTED] leaves my temple, and I turn to the right to see a woman I'd never met before, but she in a fancy outfit and asks if she can help me, hands empty. I say, "Why, hello there, 'course you can help me," and I reach down suggestively into my front pocket, where I pull out a bag of [flowers] and tell her to roll that [feces] up. You mean to tell me I get my own [dull] roller? [Feeeeeeeeeeeces]. She said she got some other skills too, so I'ma put her to the test later.
At the bottom of the contract is a detachable $5 million check, and on the bottom of the check is a very stylized "Welcome to the New Orleans Second Line" on a piece of purple perforated blotted paper. I walk out onto the deck to a spectacular view. The house sits in the hills north of Covington, facing south. Lake Pontchartrain can be seen off in the fair distance. [Dull] roller walks up behind me, hands me a pair of shades and says, "This place gon' be waterfront property in a few years. It's premium." Can't believe it. Front row seats to impending devastation. I throw on the shades and throw the whole sheet in my mouth...
NOTE: The above article was automatically annotated for public consumption using SaveSpace v0.4.2, a newly developed experimental machine learning powered technology. Please report all errors and feedback to the SaveSpace team.
------------------------
1.5x please.