Why is my spreadsheet exposé of Nancy Drew’s crimes all of a sudden picking up traction? That post is days old. Y’all really are the former Tumblr userbase, huh?

n̛̠̫̪̰̜̗̭͇̊͂̋́̒̾̐ͯ̈́̓̑͛̉͒͡ͅͅỉ̷̷̴ͦͦ̇̋̈ͪͣ̽ͥ̽͗̔ͨ̎̚҉̣̝̘̺͚̥̱̜̹̪͎̣̱̳̠̰ͅh̎ͧ͐͐̑̆̃̈́̀̌͛̏͒ͣ̾̓͟҉̡̘̥͖̺͓̫̬͕̕i̷̢͍̫̫̩̮̖̥̫̣̦̯̖̰̼̟͚̎̇̎ͩ͛̉̓̑̾̒ͧ̈́̍ͨͩ̓ͤ́̕͡͞l̵̷̡̯̼͈̯̥͖͈̪̻͚̙̭̘̻̣͙̠͂ͫ̃̈́̚ ̩̙̥ͭ̋̇̌̂͐ͮ͐̓ͮ͢͞t̸̸̢̻̤̣̬̗͚̜͇̼͈͍̥͍͎̟̤͖ͭ̒͆̌͢͠i̶̴̞̣̫̹̥̥͎͉̱̖̦ͧ̊͊̄̊͋ͭ̀͜m̨͚̟͖̻̮̖̞͙̣̠͖̦̉̽̃ͬͯͣ͐͆͌͐̿̃̋̃̇ͫ̚ę̃ͬͧ̄̇͑ͥ̋̓̿̂̐͘͠҉̵͕͓̳̤̻̖̳̞̦̳͎̙̰̱̣̱͇n͈̜̦̣͉͓̗̓̍ͮ̇̎͜͟d̠̝̲̹̠̰̞͎̘̖̮̹͗̃̅̄̀͢͡͡ͅṷ̷̧̮̫̬͔̽͛ͧͥͧ̈́̎̒̋͊m̏̃ͥ̓̌͌̓̃́͒͏҉̺̬̞̪̝̰̯͓̱͈̘̥̞͙̮̦ͅ
Why is my spreadsheet exposé of Nancy Drew’s crimes all of a sudden picking up traction? That post is days old. Y’all really are the former Tumblr userbase, huh?
I was browsing a gay erotica site the other day, and I came across a story that was written and published in 1997. I felt like I had opened a dusty chest, and I was about to read Ye Olden Tome o’ Cocken-Ballen.
How long before the gays turn a Republican idol into a go-go boy by making him realize he was actually interested in the attention, all along, not the conservative politics.
Handing Michael Bublé a signed referendum claiming he will only be forgiven for Santa Buddy by singing a version of Santa Baby that is rewritten to include grotesque visualizations of t4t gay BDSM sex.