usbdongle:

theres a reason we use the bill w/ ben franklin’s face on it to snort cocaine, son

I was shooting heroin and reading “The Fountainhead” in the front seat of my privately owned police cruiser when a call came in. I put a quarter in the radio to activate it. It was the chief.

“Bad news, detective. We got a situation.”

“What? Is the mayor trying to ban trans fats again?”

“Worse. Somebody just stole four hundred and forty-seven million dollars’ worth of bitcoins.”

The heroin needle practically fell out of my arm. “What kind of monster would do something like that? Bitcoins are the ultimate currency: virtual, anonymous, stateless. They represent true economic freedom, not subject to arbitrary manipulation by any government. Do we have any leads?”

“Not yet. But mark my words: we’re going to figure out who did this and we’re going to take them down … provided someone pays us a fair market rate to do so.”

“Easy, chief,” I said. “Any rate the market offers is, by definition, fair.”

He laughed. “That’s why you’re the best I got, Lisowski. Now you get out there and find those bitcoins.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m on it.”

I put a quarter in the siren. Ten minutes later, I was on the scene. It was a normal office building, strangled on all sides by public sidewalks. I hopped over them and went inside.

“Home Depot™ Presents the Police!®” I said, flashing my badge and my gun and a small picture of Ron Paul. “Nobody move unless you want to!” They didn’t.

“Now, which one of you punks is going to pay me to investigate this crime?” No one spoke up.

“Come on,” I said. “Don’t you all understand that the protection of private property is the foundation of all personal liberty?”

It didn’t seem like they did.

“Seriously, guys. Without a strong economic motivator, I’m just going to stand here and not solve this case. Cash is fine, but I prefer being paid in gold bullion or autographed Penn Jillette posters.”

Nothing. These people were stonewalling me. It almost seemed like they didn’t care that a fortune in computer money invented to buy drugs was missing.

I figured I could wait them out. I lit several cigarettes indoors. A pregnant lady coughed, and I told her that secondhand smoke is a myth. Just then, a man in glasses made a break for it.

“Subway™ Eat Fresh and Freeze, Scumbag!®” I yelled.

Too late. He was already out the front door. I went after him.

“Stop right there!” I yelled as I ran. He was faster than me because I always try to avoid stepping on public sidewalks. Our country needs a private-sidewalk voucher system, but, thanks to the incestuous interplay between our corrupt federal government and the public-sidewalk lobby, it will never happen.

I was losing him. “Listen, I’ll pay you to stop!” I yelled. “What would you consider an appropriate price point for stopping? I’ll offer you a thirteenth of an ounce of gold and a gently worn ‘Bob Barr ‘08’ extra-large long-sleeved men’s T-shirt!”

He turned. In his hand was a revolver that the Constitution said he had every right to own. He fired at me and missed. I pulled my own gun, put a quarter in it, and fired back. The bullet lodged in a U.S.P.S. mailbox less than a foot from his head. I shot the mailbox again, on purpose.

“All right, all right!” the man yelled, throwing down his weapon. “I give up, cop! I confess: I took the bitcoins.”

“Why’d you do it?” I asked, as I slapped a pair of Oikos™ Greek Yogurt Presents Handcuffs® on the guy.

“Because I was afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Afraid of an economic future free from the pernicious meddling of central bankers,” he said. “I’m a central banker.”

I wanted to coldcock the guy. Years ago, a central banker killed my partner. Instead, I shook my head.

“Let this be a message to all your central-banker friends out on the street,” I said. “No matter how many bitcoins you steal, you’ll never take away the dream of an open society based on the principles of personal and economic freedom.”

He nodded, because he knew I was right. Then he swiped his credit card to pay me for arresting him.

— (via powerburial)

(via dustybins)

Does anybody remember Snowflame?

chumpersonable:

frog-and-toad-are-friends:

catbountry:

The DC supervillain that was powered by cocaine?

image

He only appeared in one issue of The New Guardians in 1988, despite being obviously the greatest supervillain of all time.

Well, if you ever wondered what it would be like if he showed up in another story, wonder not, gentle readers. A true fan has your back, as I recently discovered upon doing a google search after remembering he exists.

http://www.snowflamecomic.com/

This is comic is probably better than most of the titles DC is putting out now.

BECAUSE SNOWFLAME.

image

COCAINE IS MY GOD AND I AM THE HUMAN INSTRUMENT OF ITS WILL

to be honest I only know about Snowflame because of the AT4W reviews about the comics in question

SNOWFLAME IS WATCHING YOU READ

Back when I watched TWGWG stuff regularly I think I did see Linkara’s review of that issue, but I think I may have learned about him before on some internet list of like the worst supervillains of all time that might have crossed the radar of his fans.

I’ve been out of the loop for a while and didn’t know that Snowflame became like, a character in the reviews, though. That’s news to me.

pedalg:

*engineer voice* This kush is just entirely too loud

pedalg:

*engineer voice* This kush is just entirely too loud

(via wintercoffin)

Does anybody remember Snowflame?

The DC supervillain that was powered by cocaine?

He only appeared in one issue of The New Guardians in 1988, despite being obviously the greatest supervillain of all time.

Well, if you ever wondered what it would be like if he showed up in another story, wonder not, gentle readers. A true fan has your back, as I recently discovered upon doing a google search after remembering he exists.

http://www.snowflamecomic.com/

This is comic is probably better than most of the titles DC is putting out now.

BECAUSE SNOWFLAME.

W-weh.

oldsilverfox:

cozyhighroller:

Breaking Bad & Pulp Fiction.

WOWWWWWWWWWWE

holy shitbirds

(via jadiejadie)

So Space Funeral is the best game.

(via mabase-slums)

Hallucinations are bad enough. But after awhile you learn to cope with things like seeing your dead grandmother crawling up your leg with a knife in her teeth. Most acid fanciers can handle this sort of thing. But nobody can handle that other trip-the possibility that any freak with $1.98 can walk into the Circus-Circus and suddenly appear in the sky over downtown Las Vegas twelve times the size of God, howling anything that comes into his head. No, this is not a good town for psychedelic drugs. — Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas (via mathofbirds)

(via fuckyeahhst)