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Six Things Nobody Over The Age Of 17 Should Have In Their Car

You're still a kid because you are reading this website, really. A car is no longer a form of transportation— you're a tool, it's a passion, it's your freedom, it's a way to be accepted online, it's an outlet to make you think your life has meaning but it does not — it's your entire life because you have made some very terrible decisions to get to the point that you're reading this article and thinking to yourself "wow, i waste a lot of fucking time online so I better rage about something to make it seem worthwhile". That's why you should get rid of these six things, if, somehow, you still have them in your car.

1. A stinky, rancid pile of feces that controls your thoughts.

What part of "you're still a kid because you are reading this website" do you not understand? Get rid of that rancid pile of feces and go outside and enjoy life.


2. A shining, adjectivey pile of brown poop that seizes control of your body.

You deserve better than this. It's your body, you should control it, not some stupid fucking website! Am I right, people?


3. A crying, sophomoric cry for help.

Um, hello? What's worse than terrible satire? Doubling down on stupid and acting like you're funny when nobody knows what the actual fuck you are talking about. It's cool bro, smoke some resin from that bowl.

4. A stenchy, disgusting, putrid pile of raw poop that hovers and pops, shooting rays of brown goo on to your face

Ain't nobody got time for that kind of shit. Am I right?

5. Any sort of poopy, idiotic, moronic, attempts at satire like this post.

Seriously, friends. Grow up. Get rid of those stupid floating piles of poop that used to be your brain before you became addicted to the fake friendships on this website!


6. A brownie, browner, brown note, le petite del seriously take some of my writing as important and trustworthy but the rest should be flushed down the toilet like this pile of brown.

Lol, what the fuck am I even doing here?

This post is a work of satire upon satire by Raphmoe inspired by the great Jason Torchinsky:


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