imagine being one of Elon's little broccoli-scalped bloodbags sitting down at some CIA lifer's machine to pull a copy of his user profile and the last thing your eyes catch before the black bag covers your head is his desktop background, a photo of JFK's limo from an angle nobody's seen before

How am I supposed to leave twitter if I can't show the world my six beloved rats

Fry, Bender, and Dr Zoidberg