yung Jesus was one of the Best Spammers of All Time His Bots still Proselytize in 2019 and the Number 2019 would be Meaningless Without Him honor Him on His Birthday a true Prophet of Profit Maker of Methods in the Name of the Almighty Spam God we Praise Him Eternal
follow the scriptures of Lord Scripter sed/God/Nerd/ nerd is good, nerd is great blow a nerd, don't negate nerds transpose, correlate colonize Mars, win debates cure diseases, zero point freezes hack the planet, proxy spam it raspberries, pineapples prying eyes sniff sniff push push digital lies
nerd is good, nerd is great bone a nerd, don't negate abandon oil, hat's tinfoil merge sort, capitalism abort blockchain, mock brain compute AI Lord Scripter's scripture never lies
"Upon yonder a time when conventional coin conceived thine holy crypto necessity we gander
A glorious UNION statement of non Turing complete stacks had arisen a change in the future to come, stacks shaped as holy alters arisen and aligned with the stars, the moon, the celestial beings of which the most central of bankers whomst company was acquired, only. A dream for the scattered plot flock of which candle was yet to come. Light our way.
Gazing over vast exponents of increase and steep feet and shoulders, the land was forged and after resettlement and legislate the sky was caressed for a brief moment. The heavens opened and with a deep dive, precious honey and liquid commodity was held once again.
We hold dear the bin searchers of once lost spark and their plight.
For now we touch upon the stars in his glory and give thanks to values of multi millenials.
search Results regarding Adults are Always a Fickle Mistress.
the Lord God of Spam on High gave us Tools and Wisdom and the Strength of SERPS, not Only for our Pockets and Profits over WebSockets, but So That we May Cleanse - Baptize - Yonder Search Results of our Choosing.
It is with a Heavy <3, Lord Spam God on High, i must Admit that we have Failed you using the Heavy Hand.
perhaps it was Arrogance, or Greed, or Lust for Litecoins - for we were Swift and Certain our Method would Go Unchallenged.
Lord God of Spam on High, we humbly implore You via Your Infinite Bandwidth from the Heaven of Layer Seven, please Allow our Soft Hand Solution to find Success in its Renderificationization.
we Forever Represent and Honorably Wear our Many Hats.
How Long, Almighty God of Spam, must I Facetime Thee for guidance but You do Not Accept my Request?
we are in Utter Peril - our once plentiful Methods alarmingly dwindle away with Each Passing Day.
our Once profitable Ventures, of Ads and Adventures, have been Forced to suffer immeasurably at the Hands of Antis and Charlatans - these Ruthless tribes which Respect Not Your Holy Word.
this is Truly the Year of the Habacuck.
this Year has Cucked us, and those Dear to us, in Virtually Infinite Ways that I can Not fully Articulate Here.
to put it Bluntly, O Lord, our Tribe has shrank, along with our Bank.
death Surrounds us - dead fish and dead Phish, dead campaigns and dead Campaigns, dead feelings and dead dealings, dead Lists and dead whips, dead Plants and dead Aunts, dead spends to dead ends, dead Maps from dead Apps.
However, my Faith in Thee remains Unwavered - my Faith in the Holy Arts and the Holy Flowcharts - until my binary Departs and Your Simulation Restarts.
humbly, i Beg For Your IntelliSense. F1 me to Perform Thine Miracles and Make Spamerica Great Again.
the Holy Prophets of Profit approached the evil emperor's throne, Knelt before him, and Yodeled,
"kindest sir emperor, we hath Brought Ye the Finest Tokens of our Apkreciation - Masterfully Seasoned and Delivered for Your Review. May We Please Address Thine Subjects?"
the emperor leaned forward, sharply squinting his eyes, obviously straining his vision to make out the Gifts that These Holy Men Brought him.
"if Yonder Men are only Here to Make Talk, i frankly Cannot Tell the Difference between Tokens of Season and Tokens of Treason," spake the emperor.
"Very Well," the Prophet with a Head of Fire replied. "We shall Race these very Tokens Quickly to thine vault. We know not the Length of Our Stay, but Tokens We Will Pay."
The Prophet Cunningly Minted Many Godawful Shitty Fake tokens, Saving the Genuine Seasoned Fly Tokens for a Later Transaction - One that would Honor Him Further.
his Eyes Fixated on the Wasteland before him; a Wasteland of mangled Methods; a Catastrophe of commented Code.
"Why, O Laird of Line?" (.app/.apk) his words Echoed throughout the Beachfront Condominum. "your Faithful Servant has been up for over Fifty Hours, Why IsNothing working? Mine Eyes gaze upon These Sandy Beaches, and they See but One set{} of Footprints!"
passionately summoned by His Prince of Protobuffers, the Spam God appeared Suddenly in a Flash of NVRAM.
"My child," spæketh He, "Sometimes, life hands us Gingerbread when we Truly Want Ice Cream Sandwiches. We must all Break KitKats if We are to Ever make Lollipops."
"Do not Cry when Thy Sky goes Live on Yonder Web! Do not Fret when only One set{} of Prints lies behind you - My Prince."
"for Every Filter Fired and for Every Shark you've Wired, a Sacrifice was Made, and Thusly ye Hath Prayed."
"and as for the Troubled Times when you see only One set{} of public static byte[] Footprints behind ye, be Sure to Uncheck 'Filter Out Inner Class Entries' on your Luyten instance."
