The year is 2129; humans can only communicate through increasingly garbled copy-pasta. A man approaches and says "ire: ███ 10 ｓｔｒｏｋｅ ｄｉｃｋ ff ☑ EKT ☾ ☆ ¸. ?" In confusion, I reply "AT ASCII ຈل͜ل͜ຈຈ༽༽ﾉﾉ HA ʙᴏʟᴀ ヽ༼ಢ_ ♌ ❛ั∗)◞ TUCK F (◡‿◡✿)". This is the world we have wrought.




I like to raise my Donger <༼ຈل͜ຈ༽> I do it all the time ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ
and every time its lowered┌༼ຈل͜ຈ༽┐ I cry and start to whine ┌༼@ل͜@༽┐
But never need to worry ༼ ºل͟º༽ my Donger's staying strong ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ
A Donger saved is a Donger earned so sing the Donger song! ᕦ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ᕤ



ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ raise your dongers ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ
This is my donger. There are many like it, but this one is mine. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me my donger is useless. Without my donger, I am useless. I must raise my donger true. I must raise higher than the enemy who is trying to kill me. I must donger him before he dongers me. I will. My donger and I know that what counts in war is not the dongers we raise, the noise of our burst, or the smoke we make. We know that it is the raise that counts. We will hit. My donger is human, even as I am human, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strengths, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. I will keep my donger clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other. My donger and I are the defenders of my country. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life.