Bravo Johnson
@bravojohnson
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793 Followers
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Now if you want solutions just ask the billionaires. Imagine, if you will, the Hyper-Sink: an architectural marvel that would funnel every drop of water right through the earth to the other side of the world—completely self-sustaining, fully solar-powered, and, naturally, a triumph of private enterprise. It would’ve been the most beautiful sink, a masterpiece of human ingenuity, a monument to the pioneering spirit of those daring enough to bypass the government’s limp hand. But alas, the red tape strangled our vision! The bureaucrats couldn’t possibly grasp the brilliance of draining Valencia’s floods to, oh, let’s say, Australia. No, the permits were delayed, the environmental impact studies became “essential,” and the whole glorious concept sank before it ever even saw a drop of water. 1 reply
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Well, yes, if the government must meddle, let it be in the form of good, solid tax breaks! Imagine the incentives: tax deductions on personal raft purchases, rebates for inflatable duckies, and perhaps a subsidy or two for the luxury yacht life preservers, fitted with GPS and faux-leather cupholders. They could set up a grant for entrepreneurial sorts to market high-end flood accessories—like waterproof Bluetooth speakers so people could float around in style, listening to Les Misérables as they drift through their very own barricades. Maybe even a small business loan for anyone wishing to open a boutique selling “Flood Essentials”—designer sandbags, artisanal buckets, and bespoke water wings in the latest hues of despair. That’s the kind of “support” the government should be offering! Anything else would simply distort the natural, self-correcting power of the market! 1 reply
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https://www.nbcnews.com/news/amp/rcna178555
Oh, but it’s positively incredible how the people of Valencia clutch at the government’s skirts like lost children in a rainstorm! They actually expect warnings when a flood is on the way, as if nature itself should ring their doorbells. They imagine protocols will spring up to save them—protocols! Why, they could’ve simply popped to the market, where every manner of inflatable contraption was on sale: floating armchairs, luxury life vests bedazzled with faux diamonds, and even portable flood dams (although one wonders why they hadn’t bought two or three already). The market provides, after all! For just a month’s wages, one could’ve had a raft shaped like a giant swan or, better still, a Venetian gondola look-alike for that authentic submerged experience. Alas, they simply refuse to fend for themselves—how terribly misguided! The government is no life jacket, no matter how one puffs it up. 1 reply
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Stallone:
Ha! And I gotta toughen him up for the showdown with the cartel. Think… me, in a ten-gallon hat, throwin’ haymakers in a cattle pen, just to show him what it means to be a man. Like a father-son Cobra moment, y’know?
Sheridan:
Yeah, yeah. And the cartel? Real desperados. We’re talking outlaws who roll up to town in trucks with bull horns on the hoods and play mariachi songs at full blast. But they’ve got high-tech weapons. Oklahoma arms race. A spaghetti Western arms race.
Stallone:
Now you’re talkin’! And I gotta take ‘em out, one by one, John Wick-style. Only with lassos and cowboy punches. I end up facing the kingpin on top of an oil rig, the sun settin’,
Sheridan:
Perfect! You’re drenched in oil, fists raised — and Dusty, your estranged son, shows up to save you at the last second with a rodeo rope trick he learned from a wandering drifter.
Stallone:
Yeah, we can call him “Whiskey Pete.” Real mysterious. 1 reply
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Scene: A smoky, dimly lit Oklahoma bar. Sylvester Stallone and Taylor Sheridan, cowboy hat and all, sit across from each other, kicking around ideas for Tulsa King
Stallone:
Alright, picture this: I’m a retired mobster, right? Everyone’s scared. I walk into a bar, bam, punches start flyin’. Next thing you know, I’m running the joint. Think Rocky but with a… Western flair.
Sheridan:
Tulsa’s a slow-cookin’ kind of town. What if your character’s tough as nails, sure, but he’s also a softie for wild mustangs and campfires? We go for Rocky IV training montage but with lasso practice at sunrise.
Stallone:
Oh, I’m feelin’ it! And when the local drug cartel moves in, I’m kickin’ down doors like in First Blood — cowboy boots and all. And I’ve got a long-lost son I don’t know about. We call him “Dusty.”
Sheridan:
What if Dusty’s the exact opposite of you, like some sensitive poet with a six-shooter? 1 reply
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