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THE TRAINWRECK. Brought to you by thcfarrmer…..

Appearing as fast as i ban em. Its a waaaaaaar Yea it’s fkd like it’s spam bots or something just smashing the site
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THE TRAINWRECK. Brought to you by thcfarrmer…..

by Captspaulding · Started
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@Captspaulding, hey Hommie, did you see this one I posted the other day?

Oh i know all about grumpy rolling a rare ass hemi under glass.

What makes too old idiots black blue and red all over?


A fucking hemi cuda set on spin cycle.
Every time I see it I just don’t understand what the fuck grumpy was thinking dude cause I mean he’s been driving that car for fucking years and any idiot with a brain could see what he did was gonna lead to that where he smashed on the brakes, the angle of the dangle all of it dude just so fucking stupid
 
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Pretty sure i banned 100 bots and threads
i think the last big bot wave was a little before or a little after you went moderator.

dunno may be see with logic how it's feasible or not to add some captcha or similar on account creation for the site will save you the hassle of deleting so many account from such bot.
 
i think the last big bot wave was a little before or a little after you went moderator.

dunno may be see with logic how it's feasible or not to add some captcha or similar on account creation for the site will save you the hassle of deleting so many account from such bot.
Oh i truly appriciate the idea.
Def on it,
This sucks.
 
yeah look like some spam bot generating account ...

i don't remind if the forum has some kind of captcha on account creation, that could usually help with that kind of thing.
Haven’t any of these assholes ever seen Terminator??
Pretty sure this is how Skynet created the singularity
 
@Captspaulding wages war against the bots:

“Capt. Spaulding vs. The Bot Swarm: Clownin’ Ain’t Easy”

It started with a buzz. Then came the whirr. By the time the third bot dive-bombed his painted forehead, Capt. Spaulding had had enough.

"YOU LITTLE DIGITAL DEMONS!" he bellowed, flailing an ancient, string-bare tennis racket like a madman in an oil-stained tutu.

The bots—a swarm of AI-powered annoyances the size of oranges—hovered mockingly just out of reach, blinking in Morse code what Spaulding could only assume was cybernetic sass.

One of them chirped, “Would you like assistance, clown?”

Spaulding’s mustache twitched. His eye twitched. Something deep in his soul twitched.

"I'll show you assistance, you chrome-fartin’ frisbees!" he screamed, stomping through the dirt in his massive red and yellow clown shoes, which slapped the earth like angry pancakes.

He swung. Whoosh! Miss.
He lunged. Thwap! He got one. It spiraled, sputtered, and exploded into a glorious cloud of sparks and sarcasm.

The rest retreated a few feet, then regrouped—playing what looked suspiciously like “Ride of the Valkyries” through their speakers.

"Now you listen here, you glorified vacuum accessories,” he growled. “I was tormenting children before your mamas were charging on USB!”

Somewhere behind him, Clank Dank muttered, “Maybe don’t insult them while wearing a tutu.”

Spaulding didn’t care. He was at war. One clown. One racket. Unlimited rage.

And the bots?

Well… let’s just say a few hours later, the junkyard got a fresh pile of scrap metal.

The circus had come to town. And the clown didn’t play.
 

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@Captspaulding wages war against the bots:

“Capt. Spaulding vs. The Bot Swarm: Clownin’ Ain’t Easy”

It started with a buzz. Then came the whirr. By the time the third bot dive-bombed his painted forehead, Capt. Spaulding had had enough.

"YOU LITTLE DIGITAL DEMONS!" he bellowed, flailing an ancient, string-bare tennis racket like a madman in an oil-stained tutu.

The bots—a swarm of AI-powered annoyances the size of oranges—hovered mockingly just out of reach, blinking in Morse code what Spaulding could only assume was cybernetic sass.

One of them chirped, “Would you like assistance, clown?”

Spaulding’s mustache twitched. His eye twitched. Something deep in his soul twitched.

"I'll show you assistance, you chrome-fartin’ frisbees!" he screamed, stomping through the dirt in his massive red and yellow clown shoes, which slapped the earth like angry pancakes.

He swung. Whoosh! Miss.
He lunged. Thwap! He got one. It spiraled, sputtered, and exploded into a glorious cloud of sparks and sarcasm.

The rest retreated a few feet, then regrouped—playing what looked suspiciously like “Flight of the Bumblebee” through their speakers.

"Now you listen here, you glorified vacuum accessories,” he growled. “I was tormenting children before your mamas were charging on USB!”

Somewhere behind him, Clank Dank muttered, “Maybe don’t insult them while wearing a tutu.”

Spaulding didn’t care. He was at war. One clown. One racket. Unlimited rage.

And the bots?

Well… let’s just say a few hours later, the junkyard got a fresh pile of scrap metal.

The circus had come to town. And the clown didn’t play.
I thrive when i can hit things…..
 
@Captspaulding wages war against the bots:

“Capt. Spaulding vs. The Bot Swarm: Clownin’ Ain’t Easy”

It started with a buzz. Then came the whirr. By the time the third bot dive-bombed his painted forehead, Capt. Spaulding had had enough.

"YOU LITTLE DIGITAL DEMONS!" he bellowed, flailing an ancient, string-bare tennis racket like a madman in an oil-stained tutu.

The bots—a swarm of AI-powered annoyances the size of oranges—hovered mockingly just out of reach, blinking in Morse code what Spaulding could only assume was cybernetic sass.

One of them chirped, “Would you like assistance, clown?”

Spaulding’s mustache twitched. His eye twitched. Something deep in his soul twitched.

"I'll show you assistance, you chrome-fartin’ frisbees!" he screamed, stomping through the dirt in his massive red and yellow clown shoes, which slapped the earth like angry pancakes.

He swung. Whoosh! Miss.
He lunged. Thwap! He got one. It spiraled, sputtered, and exploded into a glorious cloud of sparks and sarcasm.

The rest retreated a few feet, then regrouped—playing what looked suspiciously like “Flight of the Bumblebee” through their speakers.

"Now you listen here, you glorified vacuum accessories,” he growled. “I was tormenting children before your mamas were charging on USB!”

Somewhere behind him, Clank Dank muttered, “Maybe don’t insult them while wearing a tutu.”

Spaulding didn’t care. He was at war. One clown. One racket. Unlimited rage.

And the bots?

Well… let’s just say a few hours later, the junkyard got a fresh pile of scrap metal.

The circus had come to town. And the clown didn’t play.
Reading this made me think of this crunchy tune from clutchs “robot hive : exodus” album……

 
5 pages of bots not 1 post can be seen from members in the new section hope no new growers need to be told more cal mag 😂👍
They are all
“Waiting for approval”
So an ip address attached to one or many of these has been banned.
Ill gonna get back at it
But first some
“Inspiration” hahahahaa
 

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Ladies and gentlemen,
May i present david lee r…..
Err dr leonard rockstein.
Or
Dr rockso, the rock and roll clown.
He does cocaine.
🤡❄️

Aint nothing like pulling into the drive thru at 3 am to order nothing but a straw.
Regardless, he spins a mean ballon bass.

 
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