✍️ Kurt Gottschalk
bachtrack.com/review-sixtr...
✍️ Kurt Gottschalk
bachtrack.com/review-sixtr...
100%? 500%?
Try 1,085%
Meanwhile, the $7.25/hr fed. minimum wage hasn't budged in 15 years and the tipped min. wage has been $2.13/hr since 1991.
This is what I mean when I say the system is rigged.
100%? 500%?
Try 1,085%
Meanwhile, the $7.25/hr fed. minimum wage hasn't budged in 15 years and the tipped min. wage has been $2.13/hr since 1991.
This is what I mean when I say the system is rigged.
✍️ Kurt Gottschalk
bachtrack.com/review-biber...
✍️ Kurt Gottschalk
bachtrack.com/review-biber...
✍️ Kurt Gottschalk
bachtrack.com/review-jack-...
✍️ Kurt Gottschalk
bachtrack.com/review-jack-...
bachtrack.com/22/296/view/...
bachtrack.com/22/296/view/...
Some words I write in memoriam.
Some words I write in memoriam.
✍️ Kurt Gottschalk
bachtrack.com/review-conra...
✍️ Kurt Gottschalk
bachtrack.com/review-conra...
read bluesky
but I'm scared
to even use
facebook.
read bluesky
but I'm scared
to even use
facebook.
bachtrack.com/22/296/view/...
bachtrack.com/22/296/view/...
bachtrack.com/review-prime...
in the not-quite-dark, while
knowing the way, with
90 percent certainty, while
still a little down with
a spell of influenza.
'take the outer road,'
i remember too late,
like the weary hero
in beckett's nosferatu.
in the not-quite-dark, while
knowing the way, with
90 percent certainty, while
still a little down with
a spell of influenza.
'take the outer road,'
i remember too late,
like the weary hero
in beckett's nosferatu.
on an unrelated note, have you heard of this new company 'bankrobbr skimaskx'? they're so warm. everyone's wearing them. made of real ermine. online only.
on an unrelated note, have you heard of this new company 'bankrobbr skimaskx'? they're so warm. everyone's wearing them. made of real ermine. online only.
called for mercy
the president
wants an apology
called for mercy
the president
wants an apology
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Oh, out of characters
Only get 300; Peace out.
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Oh, out of characters
Only get 300; Peace out.