Ever since I became a moderator here at the forum, I've been somewhat abusive of my privileges but it's only human nature to do so. Power corrupts and I'm no exception. Don't begrudge me for overstepping the boundaries here and there, it'll only make you look envious... and those who covet the throne will ultimately be shown the door. See, I've hastened my ascent due in part to silencing the voices of the dissenters, and I won't hesitate to thin the herd as I see fit.
Anyways, as my power has grown I've felt it's time for me to exert my dominance and piss on one of the biggest rules SBR holds dear to it's heart. It's not out of spite, but simply an effort to expand my kingdom and bolster my brand. I plan on selling picks. It only makes sense. I pick winners at a 71.3% clip and the majority of you can't pick a radish from Mr. McGregor's garden.
I've proven to be such a successful gambler that Tony closed my account at 5Dimes after my last cashout. It's really a misnomer to even call it "gambling" when you're receiving a steady income from sportsbetting. I consider myself to be more of an alchemist, in that I'm basically transmuting knowledge into gold. It's modern day wizardry. In another time and place, I probably would have been persecuted by the Catholic church for possessing powers considered to be from an unearthly realm.
So let's get this party started. I am reaching out to you people, the peasant class, and extending a hand. It's a win-win situation. You make a small investment and see a profit returned in spades. I take your investments and spend it on whimsical indulgences such as dandelion wine and Fairbury twine. I may even spring for a shiny, new pair of tap-dancing shoes and cut the crotch out of my finest pinstripe pants. But that's neither here nor there.
Let's agree to enrich ourselves, both financially and otherwise. See, in addition to making you money, I will offer advice in other arenas of life. I will dole out fortune-cookie style wisdoms and anecdotes. I will post photographs of myself bathing in greenbacks... literally filling my bathtub with cash that you've sent me.
I'll soak myself in lamp oil and dance through a gauntlet of flame and fury. How many other touts can make this claim? They know not of Roman candle flirtations and the fine tightrope I walk along the precipice of madness.
I will arrange for meet and greets, and even be willing to sign autographs. For my lady clientele, there will be hot-air balloon rides and personal training sessions. I'll even promise to send dick-pics upon request.
But before we get into this full swing of this, I need to get an idea of how many of you degenerates are willing to enlist. Let's hear it. Who's on board? Who wants to make that scrilla?
Once I establish a client base at SBR, I'll hammer out the details. The revolution is here. Get on board and dance with the winners, or get in the bread line and cry with the losers.
Anyways, as my power has grown I've felt it's time for me to exert my dominance and piss on one of the biggest rules SBR holds dear to it's heart. It's not out of spite, but simply an effort to expand my kingdom and bolster my brand. I plan on selling picks. It only makes sense. I pick winners at a 71.3% clip and the majority of you can't pick a radish from Mr. McGregor's garden.
I've proven to be such a successful gambler that Tony closed my account at 5Dimes after my last cashout. It's really a misnomer to even call it "gambling" when you're receiving a steady income from sportsbetting. I consider myself to be more of an alchemist, in that I'm basically transmuting knowledge into gold. It's modern day wizardry. In another time and place, I probably would have been persecuted by the Catholic church for possessing powers considered to be from an unearthly realm.
So let's get this party started. I am reaching out to you people, the peasant class, and extending a hand. It's a win-win situation. You make a small investment and see a profit returned in spades. I take your investments and spend it on whimsical indulgences such as dandelion wine and Fairbury twine. I may even spring for a shiny, new pair of tap-dancing shoes and cut the crotch out of my finest pinstripe pants. But that's neither here nor there.
Let's agree to enrich ourselves, both financially and otherwise. See, in addition to making you money, I will offer advice in other arenas of life. I will dole out fortune-cookie style wisdoms and anecdotes. I will post photographs of myself bathing in greenbacks... literally filling my bathtub with cash that you've sent me.
I'll soak myself in lamp oil and dance through a gauntlet of flame and fury. How many other touts can make this claim? They know not of Roman candle flirtations and the fine tightrope I walk along the precipice of madness.
I will arrange for meet and greets, and even be willing to sign autographs. For my lady clientele, there will be hot-air balloon rides and personal training sessions. I'll even promise to send dick-pics upon request.
But before we get into this full swing of this, I need to get an idea of how many of you degenerates are willing to enlist. Let's hear it. Who's on board? Who wants to make that scrilla?
Once I establish a client base at SBR, I'll hammer out the details. The revolution is here. Get on board and dance with the winners, or get in the bread line and cry with the losers.
