Throwback to when Oliver Tree trolled Logan Paul by showing up with his own knockoff version of PRIME called “Slime.”
Logan Paul: You want some Prime Hydration?
Oliver Tree: I got my own shit.
Logan Paul: Oh, motherfucker! Motherfucker!
Mike Majlak: There's no way.
Oliver Tree: Slime! I'm on that shit. I got Slime, bro.
Logan Paul: Damn!
Oliver Tree: This is my own drink, and we are putting these in stores everywhere in the next two to three months. We're taking over everywhere. I'm talking about literally Walmart to any kind of family-owned grocery store. This is my shit right here.
What a run in the last 18 hours between the USMNT demolishing Paraguay and then Wyndham Clark trolling Canadians by wearing a Jack Hughes USA hockey jersey, sticking it to five feet and making birdie
USA. A Mexican restaurant. We had not yet ordered anything, and the food was already arriving.
Chips. Salsa. Unrequested. Free.
I stopped the waiter. "We have not earned these."
"They just come with the table, man."
They come with the TABLE. In my land, hospitality is a debt. Every gift creates an obligation, weighed carefully, returned in the proper season with interest of feeling. Here, the gift arrives before you have even proven you can pay for dinner.
This is not an appetizer. This is a declaration: we trust you. Eat.
I ate with the gravity the moment deserved. And then — I must report this calmly — the basket emptied, and a new one appeared.
"Did we…?"
"Refill," the waiter said. "It's bottomless."
Bottomless. They have wells of salsa. The supply lines of this nation are beyond anything my ancestors imagined.
My friend warned me. "Don't fill up on chips, dude."
Too late. I had accepted three baskets. Honor demanded each one be finished — an unfinished gift is an insult. By the time my actual food arrived, I was a ruined man.
I was not hungry. I was not comfortable. I had been defeated by a courtesy.
Generosity that arrives before the request cannot be repaid. It can only be survived.
I know the rule now. I have made my peace with the basket. One basket. Two at the most.
Who am I deceiving. There is no number of baskets I would refuse. The trust of a nation is in that salsa, and I intend to honor all of it.
As a Japanese watching the UK right now, I have one simple question.
A Sudanese asylum seeker just tried to behead a local man in Belfast. The victim lost an eye.
This comes after years of grooming gangs raping thousands of British girls — gangs that police and councils deliberately ignored because they were afraid of being called racist.
In Japan, even one case like this would have triggered national outrage and immediate policy reversal.
But in Britain, the conversation is still about “not being far-right.”
British people, at what point does protecting your own children become more important than protecting your reputation?
We genuinely do not understand this.
Both men said “I can’t breathe”, but only one man’s death was covered relentlessly by the media.
The only conclusion that can be drawn is that the legacy mainstream media is incredibly, hatefully racist against Whites.
Spencer Pratt dismantles hecklers as he walks through LA on Instagram Live:
“You literally have no experience!”
“What’s councilwoman Raman’s experience, putting drug addicts next to kids at schools? Is that what experience looks like?”
Tony Hinchcliffe speaks out about all the backlash he’s been getting over his George Floyd joke at the Kevin Hart roast and people calling him a Nazi while continuing to throw shots at Chelsea Handler 😳👀
“I got called a Nazi, gay, a racist over and over again. I’m none of those three things… but they are what I said. They are fat, ugly, Black, Jewish.”
Wait. He’s living in a hotel room with his wife and kids? Well, fuck him then. Let’s re-elect the corrupt, lying communist who let his house burn down.