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I am just going to start out by saying, that this is a post of random stuff. What does this mean? Well, I just talk about random things, tech, programming, and other stuff. Feel free to talk to me about (almost) anything, if you have any questions, DO NOT BE AFRAID TO ASK, no matter how well you know what is is you are asking, I will get with you soon.
Here we are again tankers. Update 9.7 is upon us! I, for one, am looking forward to the new French tanks, primarily so I can rant about how frustratingly bad they are. But that's only half the battle. I'm looking forward to the new update so I can return to the game after a long absence. The reason for said absence is that Gnomefather's mods stopped working for me, and thus I decided to clear the game until the next update, which arrives tomorrow. What takes your fancy?
HELLOOOOO EVERYPONY :D ! Have you smiled today already???? GOOD. Because things are going to get a little bit... Spooookie Wookie over here. Someone call Rainbow Dash! Because this is where we will share those peculiar stories of ours that very few people would dare to believe, stories that are not in any possible way beyond the stallion imagination, but surely are beyond comprehension. Spooky Pinkie Pie Laugh Here. Without further ado, I will share a story, a story my mother claims to be the truth, a story I chose to believe in because it was as well the REASON FOR ME TO BE ALIVE HERE AND TODAY! Note: since this is a real story, I won't refer to myself as a filly in here: If you wanna skip the introduction, the actual story starts down here: All the events can be traced back to a single not so sunny Sunday, back in 1992. At those times, I was only a single year old, far from being capable of understand my surroundings or anything else besides my unstoppable desire of eating and sleeping. I do not actually remember this day, I know it happened because my mother told me: that Sunday, she was alone at home, taking care of me, probably feeding me, since, as she recalls, this whole event took place in our kitchen. My father was traveling due to business of which I have no memory of, and my ever so caring mother was feeding herself with a very simple idea: I will skip school tomorrow (she's a teacher) in order to take care of my son, this way he does not have to be left with my mother. She had already made all of the arrangements for the next Monday when it happened: My mother tells me that, while she was washing some dishes, she felt a hand touch her shoulder. It couldn't be my hand, for I couldn't even reach her knee at the time, much less her shoulder. And it couldn't be anybody else, for we were both alone at a fairly big house, which only helped my mother's ever rising fear. She turned her back and her eyes met a bald man she had never seem before, he had a warm smile and a funny pair of glasses, as she recalls. For some reason, she was not afraid of this man she never saw in her life, just startled. Later she confessed she never fully understood how she didn't actually panicked at the moment. The bald man said this exact words to my mother: "Go to school tomorrow" And that was all, he vanished right away, leaving my mother paralyzed and, according to herself, me crying at some point of the kitchen. My mother decided she'd rather obey what the voice said: so she make all the arrangements for me to be left at my grandmother's house while she'd be teaching at school the entire day. Monday came and things went as planned... Until my mother got back home to find out... Yes, exactly, our house had been assaulted during the morning: nothing was left behind: my father's then new computer, microwave stove, actual stove, fridge, clothes, EVERY THING you can imagine was taken away from the house, except what was way to big to be carried, like the piano and the wardrobe. After asking to our neighbor, he said there was a truck in front of our home, and that the man on the truck claimed that my family was moving, which made everyone's suspect's go to zero. And after the horror of seeing years of economies and lots of wedding presents being replaced by nothingness was gone, my mother could only remember of one single event: She was meant to be at the house. With a baby. God knows what would have happened if they were to find us while robbing the house. ________________ This is my supernatural story. YOUR TURN, SUPERPONY!
One of the strongest reasons why I love the Second World War has always been the tanks. To this day, it still amazes me that machines of such great power were built in a time when the Great Depression had left nearly every country penniless, and yet years later, Germany, Britain, America, the Soviets, they were all able to make tanks of various sizes, speeds, strength, firepower and durability. This is, of course, helped by Girls und Panzer, World of Tanks, and various other PC games I've played that revolve around the war. Personally, my best tank is the King Tiger. It just looks like such a behemoth, strong and powerful beyond comprehension. While I'm aware that there have been tanks that have long since bested it, to me the Tiger II will always be the most fearsome tank of the war. What about you guys?