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LEARNING DAY

Learning Day: Bloody 57🌭

Author Eddie Vuittonet is a Renaissance maniac. He is uniquely incapable across all aspects of the human experience. There are many other stupid, lazy schemes like his, but he is doing all of them, all at once. You, of course, know him from the wild bird guesses of Prehistoric Birds in Modern Times, the confused shapes of Emergency D. Squad ETAL, and the incomparable karate madness of Muryo Waza. Today we’re reading his take on journalism– it’s a hard-hitting investigative non-fiction book about the highway near his house.

Sorry, wrong image; that’s the book’s back cover. Here’s the front one:

There we go. Beautiful. He even left the alamy watermark on the clipart he didn’t pay for.

Published in 2023, Bloody 57: The Eagle Pass Disasters BY Eddie Vuittonet is a book by technicality only. It counts as a book the same way buying a jar of her farts counts as dating Stephanie from 90 Day FiancĂ©. This is more like an idiot child’s trick, or possibly a tragic printing accident. Eddie has no useful information on anything, and wouldn’t know how to communicate it if he did. This book is an embarrassing scheme to turn dignity into seven cents of passive income. You might remember some of this from the ABOUT THE AUTHOR section in Prehistoric Birds in Modern Times, but it’s worth looking again at Eddie’s qualifications:

Eddie honed his writing skills in karate, but wanted to flex his creativity in the field of facual essays, a thing no software or device should have let him type in 2023. My point is, he’s bad at this in ways that can’t be possible, he looks like a grape in witness protection, and his stated creative outlet is copying the wikipedia entries for highway disasters. Let’s get started.

You’re looking at 70% of the first page because Eddie’s keen, karate-honed mind figured if he made the font 36 point and set the line spacing to maximum, he could finish his book faster. Eddie is clever like a man in a buffet line sneaking soup into his cargo pants. If you’re on his computer, his pornography is in the folder named “virusses.”

If you were wondering why you’ve never heard of the deadly stretch of highway known as “Bloody 57,” it’s because Eddie made it up for this book and this article is the only circumstance where anyone would buy or read it. This is a fifth grade essay at a special school for children who keep drowning.

Most non-fiction authors wouldn’t take the time to do this much research, or this much research. And Eddie somehow puts all these technical details into terms we can understand, understand, and understand.

I’m not skipping ahead. All both of that fact about significant damage is everything Eddie had to say about the environmental impact of all that highway blood. We also need to consider the economic impacts. There’s no way to describe them other than significant. He writes like he’s rehearsing an SNL sketch called “Mister Has a Stroke During Book Reports, The Boy Who Has Strokes During Book Reports.”

Eddie finally gets into some specifics. In 2019, an unspecified train spilled some amount of diesel into some part of the Rio Grande River, killing some amount of fish. I’d cite the page for future scholars, but Eddie didn’t number them. It’s also worth mentioning I couldn’t find any train derailments near Eagle Pass in 2019, but Google said “eagles weigh 5 feet or 3 feet and best Tony sex in your area,” so Eddie’s 2023 memory is probably as reliable as the 2025 Internet. There really aren’t any facts here to check, so it’s not like it matters if they’re right.

Rather than describe the public health impacts of all these train accidents, Eddie Vuittonet is demonstrating them. This is what thoughts look like when your tap water is entirely diesel and fracking runoff. This is what the movie Memento would be like if all his tattoos were little choo choo crashes. It’s possible Eddie is trying to honor the fallen fish by writing his book in Fish. Or to put it another way, it’s possible Eddie is trying to honor the fallen fish by writing his book in Fish. Or to put it another way, it’s possible Eddie is trying to honor the fallen fish by writing his book in Fish.

This is the crazy twist I’ve been trying not to spoil. Bloody 57 starts as a story about train derailments causing significant damage, but in the end it’s a story about diesel train derailments causing significant damage. Eddie Vuittonet writes like a hamster who keeps getting lost in a paper towel roll. If you said this to your brain surgeon he’d know he dropped a pair of scissors in your head.

Here’s what’s fucking crazy about Eddie Vuittonet– this stupid piece of shit wastes so much breath telling people about his undefeated pit fighting career and private detective heroics. He calls his lonely karaoke performances “his band” and added the ludicrous Ph.D. letters to the end of his name. He is desperate -desperate- to be thought of as some multi-hyphenate genius, but then he limps his way through baby’s first Amazon self-publishing scam and puts his real goddamn name on it. It’s like someone saying, “I’m an international secret agent, but I’ll also suck any part of you for name your price or food.” I don’t know why I’m struggling to make an analogy. This book is literally promising $6.99 worth of highway accident story and instead giving the reader $243.19 of highway accident story debt, and that’s silly enough already.

Eddie has told you all the paragraph he knows about the fish-killing diesel train of 2019. Let’s move on to the exploding explosives truck of 1975.

The explosion, caused by electrics, caused explosion damage and was investigated by the officials you’d expect. It is a series of facts so complete, so thorough, that there is nothing else to say about the exploding explosives truck. “I guess I could repeat them all,” said author Eddie Vuittonet, Ph.D.. “Who said that, who put all this soup in my pockets,” he also definitely said. But Eddie is no lazy hack. When he typed the exact same thing on the very next page, he kind of moved some words around:

He is just filling space until he’s decided some pile of letters counts as a book. There might be thousands of books like this out there, but I’ve never seen one this shameless. It’s a panicked, imbecilic kind of nothing. Why not copy and paste? Does he think he’s tricking someone? Is he picturing a future lawyer saying, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client does not have to refund the $6.99 because ‘The National Transportation Safety Board investigated the incident’ is legally different from ‘Eagle Pass report The National Transportation Safety Board.’ Your witness, biiiiiitch.” Why any of this? It would have been faster, more profitable, and more ethical to set up a fake lemonade stand and then run away after groping his first customer. Bloody 57 is a pathetic, destitute crime. An author capable of this book will start murdering drifters the moment he learns you can get $28 for a silver filling.

Oh no, we’re back to this. Wait, hold on, this one happened in 1980. I’m not sure if this was a second accident only Eddie can remember, or if he thinks changing the date on the same 4% of a train derailment story counts as a new one. He might not know he’s writing a book. If someone caved in his skull with a shovel and told him he was at a train funeral, that’s a better explanation than the obvious one.

I assume this is a typo, but again, anything is possible. Eddie might be trying to say these firemen fought a chemical spill with grenades. One of the benefits of being crazy is sometimes you’re awesome.

If only those brave grenadiers had gotten there sooner. Oh well, train story over. And if I know Eddie that means it’s time for an exploding truck story.

I couldn’t find any information on this one either, so this book alone pays tribute to these forgotten heroes. We’ll never forget you Exploding Truck, two people, and parts of several others. The rest of the entry is Eddie complaining about how they should have done more to keep the truck from exploding, so let’s move on to the next Eagle Pass disaster.

Alright, so he does copy and paste. Whatever is happening, there’s no simple explanation. My new theory is Eddie was trying to change the batteries in his mouse and really fucked it up. Or this book is all intentional and we’ve discovered an entirely new kind of crime or brain disease. Or new theory: one of Eddie’s businesses is selling rabbit meat, and this is how I would imagine sixty rabbits would write a book.

Let’s take a break from all these train crashes, truck crashes, and that same truck crash again to talk about something different. A train crash, but one the Internet agrees happened. It happened 1600 miles away in Ohio, so why include it in this book of Eagle Pass disasters? Oh shit, you’re going to be so, so, so upset you asked.

Eddie Vuittonet, disoriented Texas Facebook grandpa, wants to talk about race and how it affects train accidents. “Fucking what?” you might be asking. But those are the wrong instincts. Never let a train maniac talk to you about race, or trains.

I’ve proven myself incapable of decoding this madman, but as far as I can tell, Eddie is upset because it seems like the Palestine, Ohio train derailment got more disaster relief than the Eagle Pass train crashes he remembers. No figures are given to support this, but that doesn’t mean anything. He wouldn’t have gotten them right anyway. The important thing is, like many white men of a certain age, Eddie Vuittonet, Ph.D. knows precisely who to blame for his imaginary problems: Not Whites.

Eddie’s theory is his neighborhood got less FEMA relief because Hispanic people have terrible lawyers. Or to put it the same way, his theory is that Hispanic people have terrible lawyers. Another thing to consider, though Eddie wouldn’t know much about this, is racism. I’ll let him explain:

I have read several of Eddie Vuittonet’s other books and have defeated eleven men with his Lunar Hook Punch & Willow Leaf Block (see Figure 0001a), so I knew Bloody 57 was going to be nuts. This is a man with no research skills or regular skills trying to describe exploding trucks only he can see…

… but to shove around the same twenty words about Latino diesel accident victims having bad lawyers? It was, like a Lunar HOOK PUNCH to eleven penises, unexpected. And he has a lot to say about it. Well, not a lot to say, but the one thing a lo– you get it. He thinks he knows how racial diversity affects chemical spills, and I will forever consider it a mistake for showing his findings to you now:

When a gasoline truck crashes in his backyard, Eddie is like “the environmental impact on fish was dynamic, large, and expansive, as was its impact on fish, not sure if I got these dates right the end.” But, and I’m not saying this is suspicious, when it comes to the percentage of Eskimo population in the county, Eddie knows it to the tenth of a decimal point. He has a lot of very, very specific details.

There’s a good chance you’ll never believe me, but after Eddie is done listing the racial makeup of East Palestine, Ohio, he retells the same accident stories from a Latino perspective. Which means he added a single line about how chemical spills have had a negative effect on the Hispanic community followed by the exact same text from earlier. This will sound fucking crazy, but hear me out: I think this is his version of translating his book into Spanish?

You might remember these most notable examples from before, and their significant damage to the environment. Eddie clearly doesn’t. He is so terrible at this and seems to hate doing it, so why does it exist? He published this after you could ask AI to generate you a train accident book, so why bother with such hard-fought, artisanal slop? It’s possible the first generation of Grok malfunctioned when you gave it the prompt “hallucinate me a truck explosion story only the White victims are most important.” But no, that’s silly. There’s no way those specific words weren’t built into the model from day one. Speaking of Whites, let’s go back to East Palestine, Ohio.

“Part Seven: the effect on the environment was damage, end of Part Seven. For Part Eight, we will be carefully examining the skull circumferences in the races of the surrounding cou…”

Fucking look at this. Look at what this lunatic has done. Here at 1900HOTDOG we’ve covered some strange books, but if I told you Bloody 57: The Eagle Pass Disasters BY Eddie Vuittonet was mostly this one repeating paragraph about white insurance adjusters from five states away, you wouldn’t have believed me. You’d have thought it was some kind of Dennis Miller reference you weren’t supposed to get. There are more disasters on an Eagle Pass highway than in a Señor Frog’s bathroom run by Lou Ferrigno, babe. That kind of thing. No, it’s far weirder. Somehow Eddie has been cursed to relive this paragraph forever and can’t break free.

I have a theory on what happened. I think Eddie encountered this mystery, the case of why a 2023 Ohio train derailment got more insurance payout than a 1980 truck explosion he didn’t look up and might have been Cannonball Run 2. And instead of shrugging at the unknowable nature of the universe like he does with birds, he solved it with racism. His racism finally came in handy! It was magical. To invent a situation where he could say, “I’m not racist, but their lives are better because they have fewer Mexicans” is the ultimate dream of every disoriented Facebook grandpa. And like he was coming down from his first hit of heroin, Eddie just kept typing and retyping the same sentence to try to get that feeling back. Oh no, this is sad. I was trying to write a joke and I think I accidentally figured it out.

The rest of the book is Eddie Vuittonet, Ph.D. trapped in this paragraph. It’s the first and only non-fiction highway book framed as a racist time travel loop.

One of my favorite genres of movie is Groundhog Day meets one very dumb idea, but not like this. This sucks. And I guess he’s stuck here forever unless his style of martial arts has a palm strike that can defeat time. Hold on, wait…

… that’s fucking definitely what this is. Eddie will be fine.

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Joseph Searles, who was the sponsor of this article, because he is a Hot Dog Supreme who sponsors articles, like this one!

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LEARNING DAY

Learning Day: Party Cakes For All Occasions

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LEARNING DAY

Learning Day: The Seeders 🌭

THE SEEDERS: The Return Of The Gods is the worst work of woo-woo Fictional-Non-Fiction ever written, I hope. It is a manifesto of blood type discrimination, Deep State paranoia, “Egyptians = Extraterrestrials” free jazz, Deep State paranoia, “alien boyfriend” closed-door romantasy, racism, Deep State paranoia, and did I mention Deep State paranoia?

Many sincere-yet-pained thanks to “Sage Nabooru” on the Discord for suggesting this book. It is a quagmire. It is a verbal Vietnam. It puts the reader “in the shit”, as your C.O. might shout while pulling your bullet-riddled body into a huey.

THE SEEDERS is relentless. It’s so long yet it never slows down. Usually around page four hundred, an author’s energy level dips a bit. They need to take a walk or eat a cookie or something. This book reads like it was written in one furious sitting. Despite that endurance challenge, the author has no chill. They type at you with the tone of a stranger TALKING THIS LOUD about their MANY HATERS while you FIND YOUR BAG on the CHIPOTLE ONLINE ORDER SHELF.

THE SEEDERS is by author Elena Danaan. No, she is not the character from Willow or the character from Reservation Dogs. She is a French gal with a deranged website and a too-big Instagram following. Several hundred of them think this book has important insights about the alien technologies beneath the Great Pyramid Of Giza. They are wrong, and possibly white supremacists. We’ll get to that.

For now: blood types. I once made a (New York Times-recommended) podcast episode about the ways blood types are secretly incredibly fascinating. I am also a proud blood donor. I donate blood because my Grandma Schmidt did that, and donating makes me feel closer to her memory. I inherited her humongous arm veins. Nurses mention it most times, because I make sticking me easy. Other reasons I donate blood: the common good, I’m one of the few kinds of Americans they’ll accept blood from, I’m tall and heavy enough to not faint when they drain me.

Why is any of this relevant? I’m O-neg. Elena Danaan would flip her shit if she heard that. According to this book, Type O blood makes me a descendant of THE SEEDERS.

THE SEEDERS are a hundred different exhausting things. One of them is an alien race that’s the top race out of 24 races. It’s also one relevant race when it comes to blood types, psychic vibrations, and the abduction of humans by extraterrestrials. I guess UFOs might like me as much as those vein-appreciating nurses? I should watch my six, in a three-dimensional sense.

The basic sales pitch for this book is “a kook thinks blood types come from aliens, and thinks Type O is magic.” That is accurate. But it’s one sliver of the lore here. Did you know the Annunaki battled a rival race of Nebu (?) to prevent “tracker dust” from infecting Terran blood lineages? You did not know that! You probably still don’t know that! Due to incomprehensibility!

That’s an excerpt from Elena’s astral conversation with the alien Ardaana, rerouted through the consciousness of another alien called Thor Han. They say this in a sidebar chat during a larger assembly of the Intergalactic Confederation. I know that’s a lot of legwork for one back-and-forth. It’s all worth it, though, because it ends with the aliens refusing to provide actionable information.

Thanks for nothing, Alien Game Of Telephone. Now I’m a tracker-dust sitting-duck. A beam-uppable bumpkin. A reptiloid’s rube. And I know what you’re wondering: what does all of this mean for human-alien hybrids? Answer: did you read this author’s pre-requisite first book?

Also, what kind of doofus are you? Don’t you know there’s several other disciplines you must understand, before comprehending whatever this French gal scribble-painted?

There’s way too much canon in this book. It’s a grind to get through, despite its vivid interstellar adventures. The aliens are in your face throughout. This is not one of those woo-woo books where they’re panning for glimmers of secret stuff. Elena Danaan does an astounding mental conversation or a physical spaceship trip with an extraterrestrial every week. She makes that clear. Every passage in this book is date-stamped. By my count, Elena Danaan made at least 40 significant voyages to the stars within a calendar year. Also, she was abducted by aliens at age 9. Also, she is an alien? Her website has the exhausting blow-by-blow. Meanwhile, her book unspools endless blather about the extraterrestrials showing her the big switchboard for consensual mixing of human blood types and alien genital fluids.

This book gets darker than I hoped. I wanted a light, loopy chuckle. I just wanted a hippie to tell me my blood type makes me related to that prequel Jedi with the long neck or whatever. Then I’d guffaw about it with my Hotdogger pals before drifting off to sleep and making cartoon character snore sounds. I figured blood types could only get so wild. I also figured the Lisa Frank-meets-Woodstock cover art indicated a comfy ride.

My dear Hotdogger: you might’ve been a bit less trusting than me. You might’ve guessed the problems with a “ranking humans by a genetic trait” book. You also might know about the niche problem of a few Japanese people discriminating by blood type. Wow: stop it! Stop seeing what’s coming!

Set aside that cozy cup of tea. Despite mostly depicting aliens, this book is the most white supremacist text I’ve ever read. Along the way, this book is also horny. The art is even more horny than the text. There isn’t an artist credit for anything but the cover art. I have to assume Elena Danaan inked this sucker. The do-it-all creator Elena Danaan fills her book with this guy:

Hmm. Handsome? This book’s art gives a chiseled jaw to the most jawless alien type in all of science fiction. Also this book’s text makes clear these aliens are 6’7”. I don’t like that. You’re not supposed to draw, describe, or depict the Greys like they’re Christian Grey. I also despise Elena’s wardrobe choice here. I’ve been around the block. I can identify a come-hither “polo shirt plus sex agate chest-charm.” And when Elena’s not drawing this hunk in clothes, she fades the shirtless version into a stylized version of herself:

That alien is named “Enki”. He feels like he’s Elena’s emergency backup lover. Why backup? She doodles much more fan art of an alien called “Thor Han.” Thor Han looks like a Twilight Saga Blond Patriarch Vampire (But Alien). He’s from a planet I forget the name of. Based on his Nordic name, and based on the rest of Elena’s writing, let’s say Thor is from the Aryan System. Which is in the MAGalaxy. Which is in the Milkier Way. Here’s his blonde mug with various other characters.

Be right back. Changing my Discord name to “Alex Schmidt saying hi from a Martian biodome.”

I’m back. And I haven’t quite delivered the sex goods yet, re: Thor Han. Elena Danaan draws him as a sociable Star Trek officer type. No spicy doodles. She gets dirtier, obliquely, in text:

If you say “I will come and take you tonight for a little treat”, and someone else is in the room, you are common law married in rural America.

If you’re out there intoning the words “I am Father / I am back”, society asks that you be hot and ideally George Michael.

This is an orgasm. It’s a description of an orgasm. If you fired up your phone camera and performed this sentiment in a YouTube video about Lemuria, you’d be a (roundabout) sex worker. Elena is obviously into aliens. She’s hot for an alien with the right blood type to drench her astro-undies. Hilariously, she also implies Thor Han – an idealized lover she invented – is Just Not That Into Her™.

In Elena’s defense, what’s a girl to do? She’s got a type. He’s got flowing blonde locks. And we all know the alien species with the right hair color are just…better. And cleaner.

Hmm. I guess you’re allowed to describe the appearance of the alien species you make up. But please steer clear of specific Earth-race stuff as you–

Alright. That’s…semi-objective, still? At least you don’t throw around the kind of terminology I’d expect from an 1800s Rudyard Kipling drinking buddy–

So Thor Han (Alien/White) says the Gnomopo (Alien/African?) are non-peaceful by default. I guess I should’ve known their race is aggressive based on their [Old-Timey Word For Body And Head Shape]. Thanks for the hot tip! Followed by a reference to a Will Smith movie! I sure hope all this made-up alien stuff has no relevance to modern concepts of human racial differe–

Suck on that, Black Everyone. Time to stop opposite-of-bragging about the scientific consensus that humans originated in Africa. Also, some of you eagle-eyed Hotdoggers may have noticed other nightmares at the end of that Independence Day passage. Elena Danaan fears the Deep State. This is only a red flag if you know anything about red flags. So let’s explore whether it’s a red flag, shall we? Clue number one: Elena also worries about the CIA. The introduction of this book is chock full of agony about the CIA’s efforts to crush Elena’s important investigations. Does she proceed to describe any of those CIA plots? Is there any concrete way a CIA agent bothered Elena? No. She’s sure they’re after her, some way, she says. This makes Elena both an unhinged crank and a typical Republican.

By the way, Elena spends a few dozen pages recounting one of the most revelatory experiences of her entire life. That experience? Three social media services, owned by one company, went down for a couple hours.

In Elena’s defense, lots of us feel bad using Facebook. She probably has a normal approach with other websites and media–

Good news: Elena has the CIA pegged. Elena knows what the CIA are up to. For example, the CIA are up to everything.

Elena’s book is a conspiracy overload. It’s also a concept overload. She simply piles up too many concepts. It turns out, if you detach from anything needing to be real, it’s surprisingly easy to say a lot of things in a row.

To Elena Danaan, this is scholarship. Elena Danaan is the kind of “scholar” who thinks every concept that has ever been mentioned is one of the Pokemon of Universal Knowledge – and whoever lists the most concepts first wins.

Elena is also confident knowledge is power. She read that on a cereal box or a G.I. Joe clip or whatever. Then she says the CIA plot goes deeper than you think. It goes deeper than the [re-reads her previous text] blogs accessible to anyone browsing the Internet. Elena knows exactly what the CIA and their plus-ones want to do to us. One of the CIA’s main goals is to erase our concept of a gender binary.

It gets worse. How? The exact way you think it does. As demonstrated by our nation’s Final Kennedy, every health kook is Autobahn-ing their way down an interstate whose final exit is blood and soil fascism. Elena Danaan isn’t special. Her only twist is applying this to the soils on other planets.

Elena Danaan isn’t special…unless she is special? Her one boring twist on fascism is also a little extraordinary. Elena Danaan is a French person who’s spent many years in Egypt, the United States, and other countries beyond those. She also alleges she’s been abducted by aliens, revisited by aliens, and flown through a lot of the universe. You would think this would give a person a little perspective. Some kind of overview effect. Instead, Elena Danaan beheld the wonders of the universe, took in the fundamental truths of existence, and decided Fox News is right about Vladimir Putin.

Let’s go back a step to Egyptology. Elena Danaan is a professional archaeologist, she says. She’s also a proud graduate of two schools I can’t find any further information about by googling. She says she studied ancient spiritualities, Druidism, Magic, Alchemy, and Shamanism. Her shamanism comes from a French bloodline and also a Norse bloodline, because the Brown People who mostly coined the term “shaman” could not be less important to her. Anyway, here’s Elena beneath the Pyramid of Djoser.

Oh my god. A real thing. Did Elena do archaeology at real Egyptian places? Here she is with the real Egyptologist Dr. Zahi Hawass:

Well that proves it. Elena must have important Egypt Stuff to share. I wonder who else she explored Egypt with?

Hmm. Thor Han was there. And she wore a dainty slip. And the text says while she worked in Egypt, she battled a “boss” who was a disguised lizard person who ate and/or sexually exploited young boys.

You’ll be shocked to learn Elena lost her job with the Egyptology people. Why? She brought this lizard version of Pennywise to their attention. Another brave truth, spoken too powerfully. Also, I did some impressive journalism about Egyptology, in the sense that I subscribe to Smithsonian Magazine and they run ads for expensive tourism tours of Egyptian sites led by Dr. Zahi Hawass. I sincerely respect Dr. Hawass as a Bill Nye type figure for the archaeology world. I also suspect Elena Danaan spent time with him for reasons beyond her scholarly brilliance. Young Elena might’ve been what the French call “a rich girl”. The French call it that because a lot of them speak English. Elena Danaan is an “Egyptologist” who worked with Zahi Hawass in the sense that a wealthy subset of my childhood Chicago-area friends were colleagues of Michael Jordan.

The above drawing is more Egypt stuff. It’s a doodle by Elena’s friend, who claims to have done a stint as a SuperSoldier in the space forces of the Intergalactic Council.

These space forces are a ripoff of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. They do battle with an ominous force called “The Dominion”:

Then another character gets described this way:

Check out these “different” uniforms:

And hey, did one of your math teachers ever show you neon art of fractals? Guess what two things those fractals represent:

Anyway, enough violation of Gene Roddenberry’s estate’s IP. The rest of the book wears itself out indexing kookery. One page throws together the Roswell incident, a photoshop of an alien flying an Air Force plane, and a claim the Stargate franchise is government reverse psychology to pave the way for us accepting its canon as fact.

I give up. This gal is too horny, racist, and mad at everyone to spend more time with. She did get weird about blood types to the minimum extent her book jacket promised. I’m glad I discovered how far she took that. The next time I donate blood, I will remember Elena stinks. And if there’s one other lesson to take away from THE SEEDERS, it’s whatever the hell this is supposed to mean:

Congratulations, Elena Danaan. You computer-generated one image, and it’s an image I don’t hate. Its message might be the harmless (?) philosophy of overcoming fear to pork an alien species. Focus on that, instead of the rest of your whole deal. If there’s one element of you I respect, it’s not your fixation on Type O blood. It’s your commitment to using fiction, fantasy, and delusion to achieve Type O-Face.

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Sam Koepnick, licensed agent of evil and longtime collector of Benedict Cumberbatch-as-a-Pleiadian fanart.

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Learning Day: Learn at Every Turn with Chrysler

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Learning Day: Basic Witchcraft

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Learning Day: Zardip’s Search for Healthy Wellness

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