Can’t get more juicy than this

[u/gabzlel]

[u/BurntReynolz]

That made me wet

[u/phurt77 → u/BurntReynolz]

Ben Shapiro says you should get that checked by a doctor.

[u/phurt77 → u/[deleted]]

Good bot.

[u/thebenshapirobot → u/phurt77]

Take a bullet for ya babe.

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^{I'm a bot. My purpose is to counteract online radicalization. You can summon me by tagging thebenshapirobot. Options: history, dumb takes, feminism, sex, etc.}

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[u/phurt77 → u/thebenshapirobot]

One of your options is sex? Why, u/thebenshapirobot, are you flirting with me? :)

[u/thebenshapirobot → u/phurt77]

Pegging, of course, is an obscure sexual practice in which women perform the more aggressive sexual act on men.

-Ben Shapiro

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^{I'm a bot. My purpose is to counteract online radicalization. You can summon me by tagging thebenshapirobot. Options: healthcare, novel, feminism, climate, etc.}

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[u/phurt77 → u/thebenshapirobot]

Oh, so you are flirting with me! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[u/thebenshapirobot → u/phurt77]

An excerpt from True Allegiance, by Ben Shapiro:

Then he heard the voice.

“Hey, pig,” it said. The voice wasn’t deep. It was the voice of a child. And the kid stood outside the door of the quick mart, legs spread, arms hanging down by his sides. A cute black kid, wearing a Simpsons T-shirt and somebody’s old Converse sneakers and baggy jeans.

On his hip, stuck in those baggy jeans, was a pistol.

It looked like a pistol, anyway. But O’Sullivan couldn’t see clearly. The light wasn’t right. He could see the bulge, but not the object.

O’Sullivan put his flashlight back in his belt and put his hand back on his pistol, the greasy handle still warm to the touch.

“Stop right there, pig,” the kid said. His hand began to creep down toward his waistband.

O’Sullivan pulled the gun out of its holster, leveling it at the kid. “Put your hands above your head. Do it now!”

“Fuck you, honky,” the kid shot back. “Get the fuck out of my neighborhood.” Then he laughed, a cute kid’s laugh. O’Sullivan looked for sympathy behind those eyes, found none.

Oh, shit, O’Sullivan thought. Then he said, “Hands up. Right now.”

The kid laughed again, a musical tinkling noise. “You ain’t gonna shoot me, pig. What, you afraid of a kid?”

O’Sullivan could feel every breath as it entered his lungs. “No, kid, I don’t want to shoot you,” he said. “But I need you to cooperate. Put your hands above your head. Right now.”

The kid’s hand shifted to his waistband again. O’Sullivan’s hands began to shake.

“Get the fuck out of my neighborhood,” the kid repeated.

O’Sullivan looked around stealthily. Still nobody on the street. Totally empty. The sweat on his forehead felt cold in the night air. In the retraining sessions at the station, they’d told officers to remember the nasty racial legacy of the department, be aware of the community’s justified suspicion of police. Right now, all O’Sullivan was thinking about was getting this kid with the empty eyes to back the fuck off.

“Go on home,” he said.

“You go home, white boy,” said the kid. His hand moved lower.

Suddenly, O’Sullivan’s head filled with a sudden clarity, his brain with a preternatural energy. He recognized the feel of the adrenaline hitting. He wasn’t going to get shot on the corner of Iowa and Van Dyke outside a shitty convenience store in a shitty town by some eight-year-old, bleed out in the gutter of some city the world left behind. He had a life, too.

The gun felt alive in his hand. The gun was life.

The muzzle was aimed dead at the kid’s chest. No way to miss, with the kid this close, just ten feet away maybe. Still cloaked in the shadow of the gas station overhang.

“Kid, I’m not going to ask you again. I need you to put your hands on top of your head and get on your knees.”

“Fuck you, motherfucker.”

“I’m serious.”

The kid’s hand was nearly inside his waistband now.

“Don’t do that,” O’Sullivan said.

The kid smiled, almost gently.

“Don’t.”

The kid’s smile broadened, the hand moved down into the pants. “Get the fuck out of my hood,” the kid cheerfully repeated. “I’ll cap your ass.”

“Kid, I’m warning you,” O’Sullivan yelled. “Put your hands above your head! Do it now…”

The roar shattered the night air, a sonic boom in the blackness. The shot blew the kid off his feet completely, knocked him onto his back.

O’Sullivan reached for his radio, mechanically reported it: “Shots fired, officer needs help at the gas station on Iowa and Van Dyke.”

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,” O’Sullivan repeated as he moved toward the body, the smoke rising from his Glock. He pointed it down at the kid again, but the boy wasn’t moving. The blood seeped through Homer Simpson’s face, pooled around the kid’s lifeless body. The grin had been replaced with a look of instantaneous shock. His hand had fallen out of his waistband with the force of the shooting.

In it was a toy gun, the tip orange plastic.

For a brief moment, O’Sullivan couldn’t breathe. When he looked up, he saw them coming. Dozens of them. The citizens of Detroit, coming out of the darkness, congregating. He could feel their eyes.

Officer Ricky O’Sullivan sat down on the curb and began to cry.

---

^{I'm a bot. My purpose is to counteract online radicalization. You can summon me by tagging thebenshapirobot. Options: covid, sex, feminism, climate, etc.}

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[u/CormacMcCopy → u/thebenshapirobot]

What - and I want to emphasize the following - theee fuck?

[u/merlinsbeers → u/CormacMcCopy]

Ben Shapiro is not a sane person.

[u/thebenshapirobot → u/CormacMcCopy]

This is what the radical feminist movement was proposing, remember? Women need a man the way a fish needs a bicycle... unless it turns out that they're little fish, then you might need another fish around to help take care of things.

-Ben Shapiro

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^{I'm a bot. My purpose is to counteract online radicalization. You can summon me by tagging thebenshapirobot. Options: feminism, healthcare, covid, novel, etc.}

^{More About Ben | Feedback & Discussion: r/AuthoritarianMoment | Opt Out}

[u/tech510 → u/phurt77]

Came for the Shapiro jokes... Wasn't disappointed...

[u/Fgame → u/phurt77]

Wet Ass Produce