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Exclusive: Trump “Dick Nixon” Photo Emerges

TheDR.World, Exclusive, Trump, Dick, Nixon, Trumpeter

Ladies and gentlemen,  TheDR.World not so proudly presents to the world, an exclusive–  and perhaps a disturbing sight of a recently disclosed photograph.

It seems the long rumble of chatter, rumors, innuendo that damning photos of #45– may have been right, true all along.  Who knew?  Nobody could have known this believe me.

During TheDR.World attempts to verify the authenticity of the sole picture provided to us by our “sources” went largely ignored.    Apparently, no one “in the know” is eager to be the first to comment.   Leaving us to wonder… what are they afraid of?   Do not fret, someone will perhaps be able to “spill the beans” and the frank too, it is a mere matter of time.   Of course, it is also plausible they just have no idea who the hell TheDR.World is.

That is cool.  TheDR.World is the coolest site that most people have never heard of, believe me.  Who knew?

For obvious reasons, despite our personal tastes, TheDR.World believes the world deserves to see this groundbreaking discovery.   However, please understand that until further verification has been made– the latter “Trumpeter”  image could be an impostor.

Ladies and gentlemen,  this is your final opportunity to back out of seeing something that might be permanently scarring, deeply and emotionally disturbing.   Please realize, the eyes cannot unsee and the brain will never forget the following sight.

Out of compassion, a countdown will provide the user further opportunity to back out, nobody has to do this, it’s ok.

From 20:

20

19

18

17

16

15  Still, time to turn back, it is not too late

14

13

12

11

10  You don’t have to do this, bro or sister

9

8

7

6

5  Really?  You got some guts, kid.  We like that. TheDR.World salutes you.

4

3

2

1

.66628323552525 — Haha, Had to throw something crazy at you, did we not?  Could not just go straight to one, what fun would that be?   Plus, 3/4 or something would be the typical number, we’re not typical, friends.

Ok, brave souls,

Here ya go:

 

 

 

 

trump nixon 09 april 2018

 

A “biglier” version will be made available in TheDR.World Art page, please check it out later.

Thank you.

 

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Excerpt #3 From Book 1

Glee iconoclast, book #1, Almighty, eternal damnation, spoiler alert, excerpt, I am a Marine

To Read Excerpt #1

To Read Excerpt #2

The following is a continuation of Excerpt #2 and picks up the conversation with Sam:

Excerpt, Book 1Then, Sam gasped, paused and remained hesitant until finally saying, “Ok, buddy. I was in the Marines but did not make it out of basic training.  I hurt myself and ended up being forced out by a dick drill sergeant, okay?”

I remained silent while maintaining an intense stare focused on Sam to tell if he was giving me the whole story.

After an uncomfortable period of pause and stare, Sam grumbled, “Ok. I didn’t really get hurt, I pretended to get hurt because it was hard and I was homesick, okay?”

I nodded in agreement and said, “It sure it, Sam. A deal is a deal. I will now leave you alone and pay the bill…and tip.  I am gone, bro.”

Immediately after the last word rolled out of my mouth, I arose from the seat, made a straight walk of purpose toward the cashier.  As the same waitress and seemingly only customer service employee greeted me at the counter.

She said, “Yes, sir. You ready to pay for your bill?”

Reaching into my pocket to retrieve my wallet, reach inside and pull out 10 bucks as I then respond to the cashier, “Actually, ma’am.  That Sam fella over there,” as I turned my head toward Sam and gave him a nod which was met by Sam’s return nod of acknowledgment.

Hell, he almost looked happy.  I then added, “Well, that guy is going to pick up both my bill and his own. I’ll be honest with you, that came as a surprise.  I sure am glad our meeting turned out great.  I was worried.”

The curious cashier said, “I was worried about ya’ll when he first came in and thought maybe ya’ll were gonna fight or something.”

A jovial chuckle naturally flowed out of me.  As my laughter tapered off,  my head drew nearer to the cashier as I offered way too much information as my voice lowered to a near whisper, I said, “Me too, ma’am.  I was worried. I’ll tell you what that was all about. Um, me and Sam—that guy over there, well we were meeting because I’m his son’s boyfriend. Today, I came to meet Sam and tell him that me and his beautiful boy are going to get gay married. Now, my man was all scared and didn’t want his daddy to know.  I told him it would be okay and guess what?  It is.”

At this point, I flaunted the ten-dollar bill in my right hand as a method of distraction…just in case, Sam was watching.  The purpose of my pronounced movement was to shield the movement of the left hand that reached into my pocket to pull out my previously prepared envelope, the pen and sat both on the counter.

Then, I looked into the eyes of the cashier as her facial expressions indicated a mix of both disgust and empathy, I said, “Although Sam is gonna pay for everything. I would like to give you ten dollars to do me a huge favor and give Sam this card I got for him ahead of time. Just in case, things went well, I wanted to thank him.”

I then presented the money to the clerk, and as she accepted it, my eyes examined the card, followed by my left hand verifying my eyes, then I said, “Oh dang. I can’t believe this. Silly me, I forgot to put the card in.”

Then, I opened the envelope, picked up and began writing with the pen with an exaggeration to appear (again just in case Sam was watching) to be signing my name on a credit card receipt.  After adding the finishing touches to the note, I briefly glanced my writing to ensure it was perfect. The letter read,

“Dear Sam,

Fuck you.  PS, you are no Marine, you are a big fucking pussy.

Signed,

DR

PPS, Go fuck yourself.”

Pleased with my handy work, I tucked my letter into the envelope and handed it to the lady, then graciously reminded her, “Now, make sure you don’t give that to Sam until after he’s finished eating. I wouldn’t want him to get all choked up with emotions.  Oh, and please don’t read it, because it’s private and really personal.”

The clerk agreed and wished me goodbye as I exited the diner.  With my exit, a simple “Booyah, motherfucker!” raced through my mind.

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Excerpt #2 From Book 1

Glee iconoclast, book #1, Almighty, eternal damnation, spoiler alert, excerpt, I am a Marine

To read Excerpt #1 

The following excerpt occurs during my journey.   If one finds themselves confused from Excerpt 1 to #2– good, that is the point.   This is just a glimpse, a teaser, to gain both the attention and desire to read “Book 1.”    Don’t worry, it is coming.

In the meantime, enjoy excerpt #2, the set up for this scene is a restaurant.   Short story even shorter, the main character (yours truly) finds himself confronted by a giant old dude that is demanding his breakfast to be paid for because, “You’re sitting in my seat, buddy.”

PS, after you read this partial scene, don’t worry if you find yourself saying, “WTF!”   Yours truly will not leave you hanging.   You can expect excerpt #3 to fill you in on the remainder of this particular scene.   Oh, it will also be coming almost immediately after #2, so your eagerness does not fade.  Hell, if you want– stop reading now and just wait for #3 to come out, read ’em both together.

As a reminder, this site is a “click bait” site– so, if you see something remotely interesting by all means, feel free to click it– that would be cool.   However, don’t click too many times or else.

PPS, if you ever start a page, if you have any other options besides Google click bait, take it.  Just my opinion, but a “partnership” with Google, kinda sucks, but neither here nor there.   Now, this:

Glee iconoclast, book #1, Almighty, eternal damnation, spoiler alert

Curiously, I ask, “What do you mean that it ‘makes sense’ that I was not in there that long? I don’t know what that means, bro.”

“Well, I mean most faggots don’t spend much time in the bathroom taking shits. It just falls out because of all that homosexual butt poundings,” Sam explained.

I reply, “I’m not gay, but I don’t think that’s true.  But enough with that.”

As I see the waitress coming with a tray of Sam’s food, I simply state, “Here comes your food.”

The waitress begins placing an abundance of various plates of food before Sam.

She looks at me and says, “I will go get your coffee, sir.”

Before turning to walk back to get the coffee, she tells Sam, “Sir, let me know when you’re ready for the rest of your food.  We didn’t want it to get cold.  So just let me know and we’ll have it cooked up and out here when you need it. Okay, sir?”

Half-surprised, I inquisitively ask, “Dang, Sam. How much food did you get, man?”

Sam belts out an extended laugh of self-admiration before saying, “I set you back a few bucks, buddy. That’s what you get for sitting in people’s tables in these parts.” Another wave of self-admiring laughter rolls out of the old giant.

As my coffee arrives, I ask Sam, “Hey, tell me about being a Marine, dude. Did you go to ‘Nam, man?  Did you kill anybody?”

“No, buddy. I don’t want to talk about that stuff,” Sam said in an uncomfortable voice.

Not accepting this answer and a hyper-peaked desire to know, I passionately urge, “Come on, man. I gotta know.  Plus, I just bought your breakfast.  You have to tell me something.”

A sight of glum came across Sam’s face as he briefly stopped eating before offering in a soft whimper, “No, buddy.  I got nothing to say.”

The sight of Sam’s glumness mixed with his cracking voice only served to encourage my questioning, I smelled blood when asking, “Well, at least tell me what your job was, Sam. At least tell me that much, bro.”

“Told you, I was, am a Marine. Once a Marine, always one, buddy,”  Sam offered with a sense of relief as if he had effectively dodged my line of questioning.

Nowhere near satisfied with Sam’s response, my direct and purposeful retort was,  “Yeah, I know.  However, what was your MOS? You know Military Occupation Specialty? What was your job?  What did you actually do?”

Driven back in his shell but digging deep to find false confidence, Sam said, “I was a Marine, just a Marine, buddy.”

The realization that wasting all day talking to Sam was not on my list of goals, plus too much time was already wasted on this clown, it became apparent that a change of tone was necessary.

Thus, it was now my turn to falsely pretend a sympathetic and reassuring tone, as I replied, “It’s ok, dude. Look, it’s not like it matters. I mean, are we friends? Are we ever going to see each other again?  Probably no to both, bro.  So, it’s ok just to answer the question because it doesn’t matter.”

And then I changed my tone to encourage Sam to feel emboldened and to help me out of this unwanted conversation as I asked, “Besides, who am I?  And what does it matter what I think anyway?  I’ll tell you what, man.  If you tell me your Marine story, then I won’t say one more word about it.  In fact, I will get up, go over to pay the bill, leave the tip, and leave you to finish eating in peace. How’s that sound to you, Sam?”

A glow grew in Sam’s eyes as if he had succeeded in a great bank caper and was about to successfully escape his crime, Sam said, “Sure, buddy.”

Sensing that Sam might agree but then fail to answer honestly, I interposed, “But, here’s the catch, Sam. If I think you’re bullshitting or lying to me then not only will I stay here until you finish eating.   I also won’t pay for your food. If you don’t like it, then fuck you, Sam.  We can fight over it and then we can explain everything to the cops. So, what’s it going to be Sam?”

The glow immediately fell out of Sam’s eyes, the look on his face seemed to express a legitimate shell-shock from my boldness, Sam muttered, “Ok, buddy.”

 

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Excerpt from Book #1

Glee iconoclast, book #1, Almighty, eternal damnation, spoiler alert, excerpt, I am a Marine

The following is an excerpt from my in-process and forthcoming book.  To not reveal too much, we’ll call it Book #1.   Currently, I know how the story unfolds, but have to finish dedicating to completing the first-draft, edits, re-writes and all that good stuff.

The initial writing is about 30% complete, based on a standard 100,000-word count equals the average book.  That seems about right, as the story has made it to the point of escalation which leads to the main journey within.

In the meantime, I offer this as a short example, just to see if it grips the reader.  If it does, then such motivation will fuel my desire to dedicate more time to complete this fantastic bastard waiting to be unveiled to the world.  If you wish to offer a book deal, that’s cool, but talk to my agent first, pal.

Also, if you wish to chuck a buck, just because–that’s cool too.  Personally, it is not a deal-breaker, it’s cool.

With all that said, please enjoy:

glee
The Initial Teaser Cover.   Not to give away too much, just trying to spark curiosity.

The greatest truth every told was probably a lie, just as the greatest lie was probably the truth.

Where does one even begin on a story that’s already been told?   That’s a real challenge.  Not only that, how does one explain or even understand such a bestowed new (and if honest, f*cked up) name of “Glee Iconoclast,” hmm?

This is not my only dilemma, but I also face a challenge to follow my orders from the one and true almighty.   Now, I’m not overly worried nor concerned about making sense of everything, after all,  the response to my question,

“How am I supposed to tell this story?”

Was countered by nothing more than,

“You’re smart.   You’ll figure it out, bro.”

The Almighty’s confidence is undoubtedly appreciated.  However, one must seriously wonder if the entity has ever attempted to take important notes while tripping major balls?

In full disclosure, half of my “notes” look as if they were written by a third grader with a bad disposition and a horrible obsession with drawing animal-like dinosaur looking beasts.   Well, in my mind, they most resemble dinosaurs or other types of ancient creatures.   In the eyes of the novice, these sketches may appear more like a diverse ensemble of turd figurines.  Don’t judge, man, unless ye wish to be considered a dick.  Not positive, but I believe the omnipotent shared that great truth with me.   Even if not, I’m writing that sh*t down anyway, it sounds authentic–that is the key.

On the bright side, SPOILER ALERT,  failure will not result in eternal damnation, ughhh no pressure, right?

Understand, my gained knowledge is significant and mind-blowing information.  The truth needs to be told, and it is my charge to do just that.  Thus, it is probably wise to start at the beginning and tell you all about me, my journey, and the discovery of a mind-bending truth.

The events to follow are allegedly based on real-life events, I know, I was there.

 

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No Thoughts & Prayers from TheDR.World

thoughts and prayers

thoughts and prayers

No reason to blah blah blah any solutions; it’s pointless.

The truth is, I am heartbroken, no words will matter, it never did, and never will.

In a mere day, many people find themselves suffering as their lives will no longer be the same.  They have now been added to the neverending growing permanently afflicted list.

As for the thoughts & prayers bullshit, it is just that–bullshit.  It’s attempted self-exoneration to separate oneself from not doing jack shit, I get it.

By the way, that’s the truth.  Make all the excuses you want, that’s fine, but we’re a most horrendous people.  I get that; I own it.

However, rest assured that the scar of living with the knowledge of family and friends having their fucking brains blown out, well, you never get over it.   That level of pain never fades, not only does such violence claim the victims’ lives it also steals from the soul of the survivors.   Such horrible brutality.   It is not a tragedy; such destruction is unworthy of that label, this is pure cruel savagery.

I know,  I live it every day of my life.  It sucks.  In 100% truth, I would not wish such torture on my worst enemy.

The saddest part, as a result of such grief, I’m a hardened man.  In fact, nowadays, the only gun deaths that manage to bother me are those of young adults and children.   Perhaps, out of guilt, but it seems as if American adults (myself included) are deserving of whatever torturous end that befalls us–as our reward, a real karmic justice.

The responsibility of the strong is to ensure the safety of the weak, the marginalized, and the innocent.   The youth deserve better.  Collectively, we fail them–each and every day.

With that said, I still can never imagine the level of pain a parent endures losing their child in such a terrible but all too commonplace savage habit.   Regardless–today, tomorrow, blah blah blah–nothing will change.  By Monday the endless circle jerk debate will be over, nothing will be done, just like every other time.  However, the pain, suffering, and affliction will remain fresh for the families, friends, students of the injured, the killed, and the often forgotten, overlooked victims–the invisible mental damage of those that survived the trauma.

Few things fuck up your life as youth-based trauma.  It could be argued, most of what is “wrong” with people originates from their adolescence and young adulthood.

Oh, there will be a next time, a time after, and countless times after that, over and over and over and over.    Own the truth, it’s just how America is–and will always be; it’s who we are, it’s our standard fare.

This is us–don’t kid yourself otherwise, THIS IS US.

One suggestion to the “thoughts & prayers” crowd–first–once again, you failed. Therefore, I suggest you start “thinking” and “praying” a little harder–because, so far, your average is pitiful, wretched, and pathetic.

If that is the solution, it needs to be held accountable and called out–because it is not working–nothing but a total bullshit prevention strategy.

Another thing, a personal tip: when talking to the family or friends close to someone that died by having their brains blown out (whether it be murder or self-inflicted)–there’s nothing you can say that will be of any real benefit or help.   Even if you “know how it feels”–you don’t.   Relax, that’s just the way reality goes.

This writing has been the “most real” thing I have ever written.  It likely sucks, but the emotion is honest and sincere.   Yet,  all the energy, all the words, sincerity, and honesty–still mean and amount to nothing.

In full disclosure, in real life, I don’t tell anybody most of the shit that I’ve had to live through, it doesn’t do any good.   Besides, that’s what counseling, therapists, and shrinks are for–TRUTH.

FYI, that’s not an attempt to persuade anyone of anything, wouldn’t matter anyway. This is me unloading my conscience, in the hope that maybe someone else might realize they are not alone.

PS, NO!   I don’t want to talk about it and sure as shit ain’t looking for or wanting sympathy.   Frankly, I disdain both, especially the feeling sorry thing–don’t.

Save your energy, just in case; you need it yourself.

This is a not a political statement, but what does it say about a society that saving children from being shot is a source of political division?   Go on, I’ll wait.  Children not being shot should be an area in which the “smartest” and “best” ideas win out.

To the solution is to “rub more guns on it” crowd–no.   That defense is weak, vague and not working.   So, if you’re going to claim that, in fairness, give us a number.  What is the magic number of guns America needs to make children safe?

Hell, can we at least call a truce on children while maintaining the status quo on allowing adults to cap one another to their heart’s content?   At least give the kids a chance to grow up to prove themselves of being asshole adults worthy of having bullets fired into ’em.   That’s all I’m asking.

Fair enough?

 

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Black Friday? Nah, I’ll Pass

Each year, earlier and earlier, people line up all across this great nation to get ready to defeat their fellow man/woman in acquiring a bunch of crap they don’t need.

 

Is it commercialism run amok?  Or the competitive spirit…that just does not wish to lose?

 

Since the dawn of time, people have shown themselves to be selfish, self-absorbed, and true haters to those they do not know.  As a wise man once said, “Do you know where you are???????  You’re in the jungle baby!!!!!!!!!!  Wake up, time to DIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!”  Unless you are materialistic savage, avoid the malls, the shops, and especially the Walmarts of Doom on the upcoming black Friday–dare to be different.

 

Instead of getting all psyched up to wait hours on end, for crap you do not need, ENJOY Thanksgiving, or try to.   Avoid the lines, and just do all your gift shopping online.   To do you a solid, DR compiled a list of gift ideas for the dude(S) in your life.  Think of it as giving you the gift of knowledge.  Here are my early choices to buy for others, or to those like me, to buy for yourself (some of us are the ever Santa and virtually never a giftee, it happens, man).   Having said that, without needing the courage of liquor, here are my recommendations:

 

Retro games.  The three selected are all fantastic.  You can’t go wrong with the mini-retro games whether be a mini-arcade or mini-system–virtually all choices make for exceptional gifts for the old, the young, and all those in between.

Books.  DR loves to read, so should you.  For my first book recommendations, I went with classics and a new book.  The classics include the likes of Emily Dickinson and George Orwell.  Dickinson’s poetry is remarkable, it makes the reader look classy, dignified, and sorta creepy cool.  Don’t be afraid to start ’em young, as I also included a Dickinson poetry book for children, it’s never too early.   As for Orwell, both 1984 and Animal Farm are true classic tales that seem applicable to today’s world.   Oh, you already read ’em?  Well, read ’em again, pal.  As for the last book, I chose the new release Collusion: Secret Meetings, Dirty Money, and How Russia Helped Donald Trump Win.  Honestly, I am holding out hope to get the Collusion book as it’s the most enthralling, and possibly greatest political scandal in American history, who knows?  That’s the whole point of the Mueller investigation, but this early book (guaranteed not to be the last), will certainly Make History Books Great Again for future generations.

 

Take DR’s advice, save yourself some time, energy, and perhaps blood and stay home, order some much-appreciated gifts.   Tell Amazon that DR sent you.

Oh, and you’re welcome.

 

 

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Songs to go F*ck Yourselves To.

Go Fuck Yourself

Say it again.

Halsey – Fuck Yourself

Eazy-E – It’s On

Well, if it’s on motherfucker then it’s on.

Two Feet – Go F*ck Yourself

Self-explanatory, Go F*ck Yourself.

Call All Astronauts – Life As We Know It

This is me dancing as I keep telling you to, you know, “Go Fuck Yourself.

Yeah, that’s perfect.

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DR World: Game Over, Man!

Welcome to DR World.   The purpose is simple, the iconoclast is gonna iconoclast.  Enjoy the show, welcome aboard, and stay tuned for some interesting (and hopefully) good material coming soon.

Expect a wide array of material–ranging from art, opinion, and random recordings, etc.

Let’s just do some stuff and see how it goes.

 

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With each $5 donation, you can add a deserving name to the list. To pay, one can use PayPal or debit/credit card. Once a donation has been received, you will be contacted by email to acquire the details of your message.

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