This should have been the ending instead of how it was.

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My grandma is 92 and wants to be the oldest person to be roasted. Roast me day 239/366

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[OC][Updated] U.S. Presidents & how key events influenced their approval rating

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Centaur for disease control.

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I am sick to death of hearing about the United States of America, I couldnt care any less about that country.

Every time I open my phone, look at a newspaper, watch TV, or go onto my computer, all I see is news about the United States of America. I don't give a single shit about that country, its infuriating. I couldn't care less about who is running the USA any more than I care who is running Zimbabwe or Denmark.

Edit: Grammar and spelling

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the tibetan sand fox

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TIFU by making my Dad punch a stripper in GTA and tearfully ask God for forgiveness in front of my entire family.

I was encouraged to post this here from a comment I made elsewhere, even though it didn’t happen today, or even this decade, so mods please remove if it goes against the rules. It’s a very funny story though.

When I was young, my brothers and I snuck a copy of San Andreas into the house. We spent days holed up in our basement taking turns playing, and down there my parents didn’t bother us too much. In order to get tons of money for guns (we had yet to figure out my parents’ dialup password so cheats weren’t a thing for us yet), we would go to the strip club and stand on the stage, absorbing the money dudes threw at the women and just let the game sit for 10-20 minutes. We had to be careful though because sometimes the strippers would do a move and bump into CJ and the bouncers would shoot the place up. One day while I was playing my mom yelled down to the basement at us to get ready, we’re going to Pizza Hut. In a stroke of genius, I drove to the GTA strip club, got on the stage, and then turned the TV off and we left. It was to be the heist of the century.

My dad, however, was at church at this time, practicing for a gospel concert he was singing in. He always filmed the practices so he could take notes at home upon playback, and this time was no different. While my mom and brothers and I were still at the Hut, he arrived at home and plugged his camcorder into the VCR. We had just one VCR, and it was connected to the basement TV.

Back at the Hut, my mom gets a phone call. She puts her napkin down and slowly looks around the table at us and says ‘ooookay’ a few times into the phone in this really calculating, specific way that she always did when she knew us kids were in trouble before we did. Naturally, it was at this point that we kids knew we were in trouble. For what, though, we didn’t know.

After a very quiet minivan ride, we get home and my mom says “Boys why don’t we go down to the basement. Your dad wants to show you his gospel practice downstairs.” It was then at THIS point we knew why we were in trouble. So we drag our feet down the stairs, and lo and behold, my dad is sitting on the couch, TV on, a stripper’s polygonal titties swung stiffly back and forth onscreen to En Vogue’s “My Lovin’”, with CJ standing mere inches away, collecting money.

My dad starts in, “boys I don’t even know where to begin. This PlayStation was a blessing to you for Christmas and this is how you repay us? By breaking our trust??” He is holding the controller up now, gesticulating with it. “Here I am, practicing to bring glory to God, and-“ but he was cut off, as he inadvertently squeezed the controller, causing CJ to punch the stripper.

My entire family stands in silence, watching together as the bouncers in the strip club shoot the place up for what seems like an eternity. After the shooting stops, and CJ appears in front of the hospital, I look back and see my mom silently weeping into her hand. I look at my dad as a single tear rolls down his cheek and he prays under his breath. After another eternity of silence, without a word, my dad bends down, disconnects the PlayStation, walks back to the family computer, disconnects it, goes to his car and drives away. For the next four months he kept the PS2 and PC locked in his office at work.

It’s one of my favorite memories of growing up. I miss my brothers.

TL;DR: Wasn’t allowed to play GTA growing up, of course got caught playing it, my dad interrupted his own lecture by accidentally punching a stripper and immediately asked for God’s forgiveness.

EDIT: Thanks so much for the response, I’m glad I could spread some laughs with this story! I just want to clarify that my parents weren’t crazy at all, so no need to insult them. I love them so much, they just got overzealous and dramatic from time to time. I had a really great childhood with two loving and involved parents who tried really, really hard to live and raise our family by their convictions. It just doesn’t always work out for everyone involved, like in this case, but it made for a great story that we can all laugh about now. I’m very much an atheist and my parents know it, but we still get along great :)

EDIT 2: Also my brothers aren’t dead, we’re all just spread out across the country now! I don’t get to see them very much anymore, that’s all!

EDIT 3: Alright now I’m not being so nice. I’m an atheist, but all you other atheist weirdos calling my parents crazy are weird. I hesitate to inform people I’m atheist because of houseplants like you. So self-informed on my life because you’re drunk on your own over-inflated, humuncular ideas about spirituality in people’s personal lives, it’s no wonder r/atheism isn’t a default sub anymore. Look how you’re acting, trying to tell me “bro you need to get out of there.” The story is over a decade old, apparently none of you can read! I shouldn’t be surprised at what I’m reading! However, if you do still feel inclined to let the pea that rolls around your empty head, whose sound you mistake for a competent thought, inform you of some truly transcendent comment in which you consider calling my parents whack jobs and nuts, it says way more about you and your small-mindedness in acting like you know better just because you have an internet connection and a lifetime full of trauma on your own. STOP BEING WEIRD NERDS IN THE COMMENTS.

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Looting started again in Minneapolis an hour after people heard there was another police shooting

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life cycle of a leaf

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In Apocalypse Now (1979), Laurence Fishburne was 14 when production began in 1976. He lied about his age

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