شروع کنم آبجو خوردن از یخ زدن در بیای عنت شل بشه بنده خدا؟

I am a work of art after 12 beers at 5 o'clock in the morning

I think I have to announce this myself, Barbad is leaving the house

Do you remember my captain in the Havana Club? Address: the wooden bridge!? Presenting a bill to a mob that is incorrigible and lets nothing and no one fool them when it comes to murder is a difficult task! Regrettable but true: it even takes decades! But the law is: there must be an end: one laughs, only one.

Special for Viennese officials who get up at 5 a.m. on Saturday because of me: I'm leaving the violin case at home, only taking the Gauermann I bought with me, a greater evil for you

Chinese, leave my dingsbumsishumsirupsi in peace. Eating and chewing it won't make you unique imperialist. Has Vienna become unique Nazi? No! Only unbearable cheap envious envy and misery.

So, from now on, I'll give up Iskender with yogurt sauce and won't drink beer. Bananas will also be taboo. I have to get back down to 75; my weight of 87 is too much again. Good night.

Limited will never again have the hope that it exists alone, and limited will never achieve this with mass murder and torture, limited should accept that: we are there with incredible potential and immorally high IQ and we will not let ourselves be set limits or red lines, we are there and we are creation

My project with space and color, a 3D show, would cost 45,000 euros, a four-hour gate and other dimensions show, plus 80,000 euros for a professional team. I think I'll drive the art academy to suicide for 168 subjects. So, no chance.

آقا رفتیم دست دوم فروشی لباس عوض کردیم یارو پیدامون نکنه، هیچکس بیشتر از خمار اوسکل خطرناک تر نیست

These lyrics have 7,000 years of history behind them. What do you want to be assimilated into? Or integrated into what? Leave us alone. Assholes.

از قدیم سوال میکردن شما چجوری پولدار شدی، جواب اینه: ما نه کون کار داریم نه کون واسه دادن، تو کارگاه ریزه کاری بلدیم، بلدی؟ گوه خوردی، مگه تو منی؟ پفیوز؟ ،

In any case, the monogramist has won my fascination. "We are also Vienna and different" has arrived. There are some reproductions of "the French" and romantic ones, but nevertheless, I bought the entire folder, 500 sheets.

Nobody wanted to buy it, so I bought it out of conviction. Firstly, I'm sure I know both of them from seeing them. Secondly, I have to mentally engage myself in finding solutions: how do you turn a Viennese story into a Hollywood movie? Can this cheap deeply depressive, cheap miserable Vienna become a Hollywood movie? Unbelievable melancholy... I think I've found the angles for filming it. But I think there's only one angle, like Coca-Cola for cleaning rust. Who came up with this idea?

Pablo Escobar never joked, and this gang is no joke either. Besides, I never wrote or claimed something without proof. Copperplate engraving 1849, Great Persian Empire.

And I asked him only once: And how many do you want to take with you to the moon? How many can you carry? And he never answered, because of my pity, actually my misery, he never answered, but I know he took many with him, there like an abandoned city where the train never arrives at the station, there's no news that the train never arrives, and everyone's waiting for the train, for the train that never arrives.

With him, I am Batman. I fly high and look over the city full of fools and murderers, full of absurdity, full of battles and wars. And I don't mean the duck, but the buzzard, the buzzard

I think this story has no place even in Gotham City: in which two female police officers point out to a woman: Baby, for that one night you tangoed with Batman, there are a lot of men who want to hang you at home. Don't do it a second time! Fucking Vienna

My friends, not yours, my haji, my pari, my guests, my guards with me, my partisans, my my my, you have nothing. 🤣🤣🤣😇😇 my foto, my my my

In the 90s, I knew a 19-year-old Turkish jazz player who played bass more refined than 60 Austrian jazz players in the Viennese jazz scene. Austrians chased us Iranians for a lot of things, especially clubbing, parties, and they wanted to be insiders alongside us. The way these parents (our fans of yesterday) raised their children is pure and explosive: complex, envy, and feelings of inferiority: These are ours, our music, our art, our paintings, our antiques, our singers, our records. Ridiculous assholes from the 80s and 90s. What would Viennese nightlife be like without Persians, Turks, and Africans? good night

Do you still remember my systematic Grail absurdity? Gusti makes the noises "Quack quack," and the little devil says "love each other," that's the fuck parade, 🤣🤣🤣, heyho capitano, cavoli! Right?

A systematic absurdity that lasts 40 minutes is something only a qualified engineer can understand. For the waitress and the man next to me, it's a miracle that never ends. You'd be better off living on the moon, you dirty ass

I remember in 1993 this bar was off-limits to foreigners, entry at your own risk, so I visited every night. The jukebox mix for 10 shillings accelerated the antipathy: a Europe without taste, education, culture, and class? My ten shillings, my three songs. I had more ten-shilling coins than any other foreigner. The fuck parade escalated one night, a regular complained and threatened someone next to me, my fan, a drunk who had been cheated on and abandoned by his wife. He took my side and screamed. I made the best of it, I threw ten shillings back into the jukebox and swayed to "Fly Me to the Moon" by Frank Sinatra and pointed out to Gust'l that "you'll fly high to the moon if you make one more noise." He didn't understand my nonsense, but he flew away and never came back. Never again.

خلاصه خدارو شکر تو این جنگ ها و بمباران ها اینها هم هستن و جنگ تموم شو رفت

heas a beidl in favorit'n krieagt ka feidl ins oarsch. gonz wos anders, die belgier kennan des A. 1986-1999 favorit'n barry

Heas, kiwarai, bis wichtig? gehst ma nach? gehst ma am oarsch? drecksau nazi schweine. huankind was gehst ma nach du rassen killer du giftmörder du scheissdreck adollferle himmlere burli

جون تو اینجوری روانی میموندیم باز میشد گفت مردم از کون اوردن، الان خیلی خط خطیم، سنگین سیم بندیم به بند نافم گفته زکی، به بد جایی وصل شده

باوووو کون لق ششصد، رفتیم رو هفتصد میگه خونه نیست، بابا دوهزار و پانصد پیش پرداخت میدم! میگه نیست، برم رو هشتصد؟

I'm on the subway but I have no idea why I jumped back, but I feel the same way... jump back to my.... 🤗ali ali bo... maye

I haven't allowed anyone to film or photograph me, but apparently the state wants to continue this fascism, namely 25 years of Stasi financial dealings with illegal pornography, a secret camera system, and thus ruining and burning my existence. and of course a slow painful death in front of cameras through poisoning. The state promises in the event of general silence, the mass murder of my ethnicity and tribe.