Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Davinalion Apr 8
The Vision of Chess
"Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate"
The Vision of Judgment,
Lord Byron

1

Hail, sixty-four squared altar of my doom!
Where I, a washed-up husband, pale and stressed,  -
While dishes stack like skyscrapers in gloom,
and kids belt out some earworm they’ve obsessed, -
I click my bishop forth with trembling hand,
A modern Nero in a mouse command.

Oh, Chess! Brain-teasing, sweet time-sucking game,
Where men of leisure waste their waking hours,
While wives, in wrath, but whisper not our name,
Lest we should mock wife's frail domestic powers.
For what’s a husband’s duty? Mop the floors?
Or chase the black and white to victory’s shore?
It does not matter — wives shall weep the more,
And call you childish — nah - yet play we must,
Till death or stalemate stills our foolish lust.

Oh, Chess! Thou thief of kisses, sly and cold,
Who steals the fire that else might warm the bed —
What hands, which once did roam in passion bold,
Now idly push a pawn or knight instead?
What midnight sighs are lost to checkmate’s art,
When lips might meet, and trembling fingers twine?
Yet kings and queens command the foolish heart,
And love’s sweet gambit fades with each passed line.
So wives lie cold, betrayed by chess’s scheme,
While men kneel — not to love, but to a Queen.

2

“But chess is noble!” I shout to the void,
“Not like those sweaty Call of Duty crews!”
Wife doesn’t care—her wifely rage deployed,
My pawn’s sweet moves won’t calm her dishpan blues.
Same crime, same mess: the floor’s a wreck, the bed
Unmade — while pawns dance in my empty head.

So here I sit, a forty-something champ,
My mouse - my sword, the screen - my epic quest.
Pawns drop like flies before the coffee’s amped,
Bishops get smoked by tricks I’ve long professed.
“Brain rules!” I yell—but when the chores pile high,
My queen bolts fast, and I just wave bye-bye.

3

Check out the fate of dudes past forty years:
All fun shrinks down to kid-stuff we adore.
The couch-bound football fan drowns in his beers,
The LARPers clank around and ask for more.
But snowboard bros, once shredding peaks with flair,
Now flop like dads on hills of pure despair.

But wait! One trick can dodge the spousal shade:
Slap “job” on hobbies, watch the scorn retreat.
Bloggers spew hot takes, call it “getting paid,”
Priests dodge the grind with sermons oh-so-sweet.
You start a cult — and housework’s off your plate,
A pro-level flex to sidestep boring fate.

4

But me? I’m chess or bust—need no grandmaster fame,
Nor stuffy clubs with suits and fake applause.
Let “Go” nerds stew in never ending game -
I’ve got three kids – three terrors with no laws.
A quick blitz match, my caffeine-fueled retreat,
“Brain food!” I mutter, dodging chore defeat.

Yet sometimes, through the crumbs and coffee rings,
I glimpse the pros — chess gods who rake in cash.
They shrug off wife aggro with prize bling-bling,
Legends who play while dodging household trash.
But wait — what’s that? A glow through window cracks?
Not dawn — it’s Kovalyov’s canadian pantsless flack!

5

So, came this day—nay, mark the very hour!—
Chess world flipped out with fashion-fueled delight.
Young Kovalyov, Canada’s proud brain-power,
Stormed on Tbilisi, eager for a fight.
Not stalemate’s dread nor rival’s sneaky art—
His knee-length shorts - that was the thing that tore his game apart.

“GM” before his name — a shiny tag,
Which fools read Grandmaster (and so do I).
But real ones know it’s just a humble brag:
“Mom, I’m not a loser!” comes his cry.
And moms, since time began, just nod and say,
“Sure, kid, it’s fine — now go and win the day!”

6

What wrecked his vibe? No chess trap, no cruel twist—
Just Thomas Delega, say Polish-born.
He clocked those knees and threw a judgy hiss:
“Pants, man! The Code’s a rule you can’t unlearn!”
Kovalyov, half-dressed usual - but a mess,
Bare legs sparked scandal — chess’s wildest stress.

“Grzegorz! Three days have passed that I’ve rocked this fit!
Since when do knights need slacks to slay a king?
Did Morphy’s tie get checked? Did Lasker bring
A label saying ‘Dry Clean’? What a thing!
You’d think it’s Wimbledon, not boardgame lore—
Next, rooks in bowties? I’m out the door!”

7

And here - from Georgia’s hills, a titan strode,
Zurab Azmaiparashvili — GM triple-stack!
(At his age, it’s less skill, more “I’ve got the code—
Beat your granddad with dice, and that’s a fact!”)
His growl shook the hall like a thunderclap:
“Defy tradition? Kid, you’re in my trap!”

GM - OLD-SCHOOL TITAN:

"I, who played Fischer 'neath the Iron Curtain,
Who saw Kasparov's cardigans for certain—
I say: No bare legs below the belt, you hear?
Chess ain’t a beach bash for a TikTok’s cheer!
Suit up, you punk, or taste eternal doom—
The board’s no catwalk for your Hollister gloom!
Shorts-wearing brat, You think rules don’t apply?
I’ve crushed kings since your mom was all knee-high!
Again - I've battled kings ere you were born,
I say: No shorts upon the sacred board!

GM - MAMA’S BOY CHAMPION:

“Three days I’ve rocked this fit—so why flip now?
What’s with the sudden pants-policing vow?”

GM - OLD-SCHOOL TITAN:

“What’s wrong with you, boy, flashing knees like that?
This ain’t some surf shack—you’re on my mat!
Think you’re a rebel, some board-riding ape?
We guard the game’s soul, not your summer escape!
Get lost, you rogue—you Gypsy trash, I said—
No shorts-clad clown’s wrecking my chess spread!”

(Ah, mark the statesman's art! When tempers rise,
The wise man picks his slurs with enterprise:
Jews own the banks, and Russians stir the *
But Gypsies? Perfect scapegoats! They'll... er... not
Sue. Though Kovalyov—that "pantsless bitch"—
took deep offense with sudden gypsy stitch.)

GM - MAMA’S BOY CHAMPION:

“What crusty, old-man venom’s stuff is this?
I’m out—but hear me, your insults won’t stick,
You fossilized relic, stuck in your strange bliss!
Your reign’s on fumes, you are Jurassic prick.
Enjoy your throne, you wrinkled crazy czar—
My loyal lawyers are drafting while you spar!”

GM - OLD-SCHOOL TITAN:

"I built this game empire on checkered gold,
I funneled millions through my Georgian hold!
This runt dares mock the sacred code I wrote?
I’ll make him kneel — or slit his fukking* throat."

8

Then Capablanca’s ghost slid in, all chill,
“Zurab, you’d whine if God moved pawns downhill!”
Last Fischer came from nowhere, problematic,
"I told you - all those Russians love to cheat!
Now add some 'clotheshorse' to crooked shemes Asiatic—
Next they'll demand we kiss our king's corrupted feet!
Hey Boy! Your shorts are battle dress - me being enigmatic—
I have no clue what I am saying, dammn,
Let’s burn this *f
uckinng circus down, GM!"

9

But then — from frozen lands, a clapback bold!
The Maple Leaf Federation cleared its throat.
(A shock! Since sports bureaucrats, truth be told,
move slower than a dial-up modem’s note.)
"If 'gypsy' be thy slur of choice, Grandmaster,
Know this: Our knight may lack pants, but he's
No target for thy Cold War-era disaster
Of rhetoric. We stand — perplexed — by these
Exposed but principled Canadian knees!"

10

You think that Canada is just some hockey's hype?
They're blasting dingers and lacrosse a lot.
But chess up north's an unexpected type:
Each pawn with stick and fukked* while smoking pot.
The bishops blaze in a THC storm.
How was this Federation even born?

Two Jews from Odessa (then-Soviet) took their shot -
Two masters from Soborka chessboard's fray -
"In Canada, we'll score a noble lot:
Let's form a Federation - clean and grey!
Report the cash as gifts from gays and queer,
Then skim our three percent - and disappear."

Their paperwork was filed with lawyer's grace -
with a nonprofit shield and lots of honors.
Each tournament did fill their pockets' space,
While CRA got screwed by happy donors.
Oh Canada! Your tolerance is grand:
With logo shaped like puck - you are in demand.

11

FIDE flared up, its temper old and gray,
With twenty million stacked in vaults below,
Its voice  — a boom that made the chessboard sway —
Roared loud, a mix of rage and twisted glow:
"Dammn* Canada — get out, hey - you're dreaming!
Zurab’s cash will not move t'your fuukking* den!
“Gens una Sumus” says our motto - meaning -
your're stuck with three percent - while we have TEN!"

But soon that curse was drowned in wilder sound,
As chess broke free, like stars through Hubble’s lens,
New worlds on worlds flashed out, unbound, profound,
A sprawl of moves no rulebook comprehends —
Like rabbits hummpiing* under cosmic trends.

12

Then came a mob — no one could pin their source,
Some black-hole crack where asteroids vanish -  
The Chess Pros Fed, spitting a lot of words
In Russian, English, German, French and Spanish:
"Zurab, you Georgian mutt, your end’s a bet!
No FIDE ghost will shield you from our grip—
Tbilisi, two weeks — time to place your debt —
Bow now, or we will DOGE your sinking ship!"

Then head of Canada's Chess Federation shrieked,
A suit named Vlad Drukletch, some nervous jerrk.
(Croat or not, his roots were hard to leek).
He stepped up too, all pale, his words a perk.
And puzzle cleared itself like long awaited ace,
Unveiling why this war began in the first place.

13

Few years ago the wheel of power *jj
errked
Steve Harper crashed, that right-wing king of gloom,
Trudeau soared up, all snowboards, rights, and work
For climate, weeeedd, and every woke-asss* bloom.
The Right hoards cash till people’s patience frays,
Then Lefties swoop, with rights and pot to spare,
The finance system dies in liberal haze,
Plus NDP just doubles down on flair —
and splits the wreck, with ruins everywhere.

When funds dry up, the Right locks down the vault,
But when they bulge, the Left burns through the stack —
It's not just Russia stumbles in this fault,
The world’s a drunk who’s lost the sober track —
It's reeling blind from dawn down to pitch-black.
Still, here’s the catch: the whip lands when it’s due,
Each decade, business kneels to take its hit.
A messed-up game, sure, but it’s got a clue —
More fair than screws that tighten bit by bit,
A grind where no one ever calls for quit.

14

The leftward tide now sweeps both East and West,
While right-wing fools still cling to what they know.
"Let's work!" they cry. "No whining! Earn your bread!"
The left just wails "Oppression!" loud and low.
When pipelines thicken, Leftists ask their share,
Yet Rightists clutch the spigot, firm and cold —
Not just in dunes where camels tread with care,
But boardrooms where the new crusades are sold.
The maps they draw in ink of liquid gold
Still bleed like wounds that never learned to knit.
Each barrel priced, each treaty bought and signed,
Yet ancient grudges fester, unconfined.

The West once carved the feast with steady knives,
But now the plates are cracked, the guests revolt —
Some scream for walls, some beg for homeless hives,
While deep beneath, the drills still twist and bolt.
Here comes the Holy Land - a bleakest jot,
Where prophets weep at profits dearly bought.
And Christ is preaching not on love or grace,
But quotas, pipelines, and who gets what place.
But Son of God himself by strange decree
Stands homeless where he preached “Come unto Me.”

15

UNESCO, with its crooked left 'politess',
Declared the Temple Mount not Israel's right.
And Canada with Russia voted "Yes!"
While Europe coughed and shrank out of the sight.
It's strange when Russia's stance align with that
of maple-leaf moralists so pure and trite.
Perhaps they played some deeper game instead -
Fed fools the rope to hang themselves with pride.
Lavrov might smirk, "Who cares what's wrong or right?
Let's vote for chaos - watch the baassstarrds slide!"

Now Trudeau won't set foot on Jewish land,
While Hamas's praised, the IDF's condemned.
But what's this got to do with chess, you ask?
The threads connect - just trace them to the task!

16

So, Drukletch stormed in, fury in his eyes,
Two damning charges, sharp as battle cries:

"Zurab himself defiled our sacred rule!
Last time he flaunted shorts himself — so cruel!
Here is that photo - if you trust your eyes -
Those shameless knees expose their master's lies!"
The tournament hall, once prim, now gaped in shock,  
As chess tradition crumbled 'neath this frock.

"And second — mark this plot, so sly and dire —
He schemed with Max Rodshtein, that Israeli liar!
When Kovalyov received this reprimand,
Rodshtein did claim his win by Zurab's hand!"

17

The camera's lenze caught that very scene
Where Zurab clashed with Kovalyev Anton —
Behind his back, so real and serene,
The Jewish flag unfurled it's hexagon.
Was it pure chance or some malicious craft?
We may dispute for ages as we see
That irony is flawless in its art —
To stir the doubt, yet hide the guilty part.

And Maxim Rodshtein — what’s his voice to this?
Zip. Nada. None, or so the silence tells.
He’s mute as stone, no stance to curse nor hiss,
His thoughts lie hushed in deep, uncharted wells.
His statement might have cleared the foggy mess —
Perhaps a quip where wry amusement dwells:
“I, Maxim, swear, on all that’s been debated,
I’ve naught to say - and thus stay unberated.”

18

When Drukletch dropped his shit, unhinged and loud,
Maxim, perchance, just smirked beneath his breath —
And thought: “These crazy fools have lost their ground",
And mused, while dodging scandal’s creeping mess.
Was he, too, in shorts, blending with the crowd?
He slipped in early, missing Gzhegosh’s eye,
And whispered humbly to Zurab about
His sin and swore to make amends or die.
Or not. Perchance instead he bided time,
Till eyes turned blind, and then he fixed his crime.

Imagine this: when not observed by jury
He popped his belt, let shorts sag low and free—
Dashed to his quarters, swift as fleeting fury,
And slid into fresh pants for all to see.
Then sauntered back as if returned from jerry,
And calmly waited how the pantsless mess
Unfolds - True whizz of sneaky moves and shady chess.

19

Of course, he blew it — mute, he stands accused,
A silence thick with fault, a rookie’s sin —
No star up high turns random, unexcused,
When chess and junk from youtube fill their din.
We - slaves of FIDE, time’s obsessive kin, -
Find solace in the board’s eternal grind,
Yet heavens spill a truth no app can bind.

From stellar drift, our souls snag cosmic crumbs,
A science feast where fans like us abide —
Each orbit track unveils existence’s sums,
A rock from space could crush a species wide,
Or bare the Chess Union’s throne, once ruled
By old-school titan, grizzled, grand, and sly,
Since days when knights and kings refused to die.

The plot twists hard, two tangled farces join!
Two Europes clash — one freaks at Israel’s claims,
The next, per Zurab's hand, awards it points,
GM-OLD-TITAN gambits double game!
And that's a place where I have to proclaim -
(I hope, my friend, you safely sit on cushions) -
That Kovalyev and Rodshtain - both are Russians,
Like Zurab, Gzrghegozsh, Drukletch, you and me,
Whichever rugs you hoist on guilty knee.
But even if this chess is a complex game,
There is no cause to quit the hunt for who’s to blame.

20

I lift my eyes — cheap telescope in hand —
(Black Friday deal, now half in coffee rust ) -
To scan the heavens where the gods once lived
A clockwork sphere, both elegant and just.
But no! The sky’s a glitching simulation,
A cosmic joke beyond verification.

The 3-b problem laughs — its dance malign
Mocks supercomps and makes them crash outright.
While black holes, like some crypto-scheme divine,
Suckk matter in and vanish out of sight.
And every week, some space-tool’s revelation
Just adds more trash to scientists' frustration.

The theorists weep (their models are so neat),
Now watch dark energy their work erase.
The universe cares not for their conceit —
It shrinks, expands, and memes right in our face.
The flat-Earthers beliefs are nice to keep!
At least they never lose a wink of sleep.

I hope they don't. And so do I. Indeed,
The Brownian churn of facts will lead
to nowhere. For mind's sake I need some order,
I need to find myself on someone’s border
To get involved in real life's galore
Where shorts defend their truth, and trousers soar.

21

Look at the great and blind machine of life,
That's called 'the evolution'. With no plan,
No grand design, no meaning in the strife,
it's creatures fight. For what? - Because they can.
Yet from this carnage we, like plants, emerged —
through wars, and plagues, and famine neatly purged.

Life’s blind fists scrabble through time’s suckkkingggg* mire,
With no grand scheme or plan to light its way.
No goal, no guide — just chance’s old desire,  
Where cells just splice and rot in Darwin’s gear.
They split, they clash, they fight in endless roll,
And do not know why do they live at all.
  
Life’s vivid pulse is carved from pain’s harsh sting,  
Survival forged in shadows of despair.  
Each wound, each war, each plague’s unyielding spring  
Sharpens the blade of life’s relentless lair.  
Dare to erase the rot, the fang, the claw?
In vain. The fangs just sharpen, craving more.

We boast we’re not like beasts, blind to the fray,  
Our minds, we claim, can carve a flawless state.  
With logic’s torch, we’ll chase all vice away,  
And moral codes will banish every hate.  
Yet smug, we scorn the sludge where life’s begun,  
Convinced we’re gods, not fools who chase the sun.

We say - let the economists hold sway,  
While math whiiizzz minds make finances align.  
Philosophers, who swear they’ve found the way,  
Will purge all wrong with Marxist truth divine.  
But pride infects their hearts, a fatal flaw —  
Their zeal breeds ruin, shattering the law.

When brainiacs seize the power, chains arise,  
The world morphs fast into a prison’s gloom.  
Wars rage so fierce, the death toll blinds the skies,  
While taxes crush and cleave the social room.  
The more they plan, the more the world rebels,
And feeds the very hells they sought to quell.

Watching this circus of brain-power frays,
Where ivy-league bacilli sheit* their pants,
I won’t pose as some sage or cuantt who stays
Above the brawl. No coward’s sheitt, my friends.
Feeling myself a part of nature's law,
I always pick a side in every war.

22

I stand with Israel, Trump, Fide and Jesus -
that one of eastern Orthodox edition.
The void of saints and sinners sits between us,  
or "readers" - I should say - and this petition -
like modern Moses' tablets' audition -
is craving for your sacred recognition:

Go fuuckck yourself with any crap you own!
I do not care… or do I? Hard to tell.
My veins are Red Bull buzz, emotions blown,
A clown in life’s circus, yelling 'hell'!  
Like I’ve pants down and stand right here, felled,
Waiting for love — or Zurab's leather belt.

And so I wish you too, dear wasted reader,
(Gorged on the trash the internet excretes),
May life be tournament — be it FIDE or tweeter—
And bruise you hard, yet leave you weirdly freed.
A twisted prize from this digital bleeder,  
Served hot, with middle fingers as your leader.  

I'll go get scammed by crypto’s latest fad,
Or doomscroll news that fry my last brain cell.
Cry on no hill — all hills are good and bad.
But if you’re yelling at the void - yell well:
Let hope ignite where broken life still glows
And screams for love that vanished.

Smooches, bros!
Wrenelle Oct 2020
You put yourself on high alert
for dangers that could be lurking.
It's in your mind,
there are no lions;
this "mindfulness" isn't working.

You "doomscroll" your days away,
and take a pill to sleep.
No wonder all your dreams
have dystopian themes;
You're counting wolves instead of sheep.

You're isolated, stuck indoors
with no clear end in sight.
The planet is on fire,
yet Humanity's desire
is to help the flames win the fight.

How can you quell the racing thoughts,
the anger, the frustration?
Put down the phone,
just be alone.
Tune in to a different station.
playing          all     Mg          Now The     more       Month   375K          🔥🔥  Your         Can’t          55:28        Did         Dunk  6     Out Hum      playing         books...  Male    month playing        WORST       27      no          views  Road     years couldn’t 884K          🤫       and      &         of       Now      to         💪🏼  Days       HTML5  9M    6  HBO          3     You views   These         Now    views      THE  clears       263K   2.8K  views   Agree      Now 83K       2025.06.21  2 13M   are        things      8.6M     Now       1.4M   2  Shorts   -   Is      Road   views        #shorts         TIME   and      days     Now  the    Life   kids?  part   AS     Home        guys    Play         1      10:01     5.7K     views !!        views         &          Pitt's     Now       10:59  Boat      the       |          WORST     Play      TV at        119K     playing         View 216K    playing         HTML5     months          Play       hide    play          playing        short         weeks  months        Your    months         517K   HBO        play          From        Big        views       Now   'the          CAR          😂💩       🙄🎧     Pen     Sports   New     CHANGE views    Watch     Now   hours   10  strike?     views Could        Shorts A views          which        ||          on     views  Man          1     The   22:41         60     Warns       3 playing          days   1.4M        a       Books      For          playing         1        Thing         book         views LIVE    2      -    views   x       York     2 views 4        Wart          Send    Greene      2025 News      How  a    Mic         play         3      |     15:21 1    from        2M    'The      42M       your          fights        is don’t   in         views    views       #shorts  views  LIVE       to  red   Fun TV     Girls   9        2:09       Now         Now    29:27        3         MORE    THE          on       Queen     Why  85K        Whats views   News 1:00      1:00:03   our  - TV  But     Play         news       views      Now 3.1K  26:26        air       Fox    who    14:19    -    Read…  US’  like     can       From Life    views        Snare        20:26  in       day     day         WFTV Now       we        Now     &    Live          the  playing     Mob  Kids      it        should        to   the    views         Jan.        Dunk        months       &      playing        to        me.       Best   month         change      on  386K         1M        flags     play   playing          the  WARNS    playing   play      days    Wrist      1       AT    LIVE      we     LLC      26:59       and          12:58    have          ©          NO     #shorts     Finds  New  playing    Lie    Build     YOURS?     |  Are  Now months  Court         90M  views        0:49        3    –   playing          RIB       A    1     go        Ink Queen          a        get         To the    =        Zone    boat      Why    new         life       is  Now    945K  38:19 313K Kids   views         NCSC    playing  views   (ft.       More          -        -  month     #ink views    29:29         This   boats         Marnie     PRIME   79K      24K          & 3        read')     14  of         playing        7        her    month         - talk     Play         120K    -         playing         and    views        Show's  playing       -  QUEEN    views Show        Swatch         Now       20:19  playing       -      views         Build  as      8  Now     hours     months          playing      playing  month  29     Now    2:49      Shorts    The -        champ   views  2:59         How   in   -  Her   air       How          AND  73          when Top        Help         57K -        5     11        Tv      64K   to    of        Worst She  Now         don't  or  Now          2.8M      Was        Trump       I &          Mob   Best        9    YouTube      Ticket          TAKES          Music          INLET      Cases    games,         Cruises         worksTest       ago        ago    Booktok       Crossy    later       ago       Rules Embers        without     Supreme   videos        YouTube  Magic  Alice  NEVER        Studio     feedback   OONI  Only        Playable   YouTube       Survive      before          England       Radio    Derek         women Google        ago    Francis       culture         Control Peter       Channel Emma    Arcade         ago         movies      Sunday       ago     Report        Playables       Surfers          ago       Arcade   Iran      Media     scared         Beauty        #travel          Trending  comes    Daniel         Tiles     Arcade ago        TODAY   Teachers        CRASHES          English     Quitting        YouTube        Courses      childhood   Flappy   ago     5lotham      ROASTING         Tiles         McKinnon     Private     Ashley         USA      Fires       Gaming    Playable      Plantar  Ranked    Movies      Reading  #sailing          Instant       Arcade       preteen          WASTING  IDEA          Dashcam   Because         Racing Playable  downloads        Playables          ago  Crossy          #fcancer       Joshua       Liked letters        PALACE    Sp00nerism      Windsurf    Ruling       Shopping    ago        BOOKSHELF       Playable   Lessons    disagree?        Cycle        Explore   ago    Podcasts  Fashion    ago          ago       Justice     YouTube  YouTube   Magic Doomscroll  cancer Pairing          Waves        ago   Destroying      Action Playable   Playlists      Carrying      MoonSwatch       ago    sailing #sailing    INSANE          cutting    Control      Action   videos      ago     ago         Premium     watching     ago      Secret Crisis   Music     Settings        Aaron   YouTube         YouTube     really LATEST     Racing         Explains Taylor   Again!  NAOMI          ago     Lorenz        Flappy    STORMING          Teachers        Shocking      Expert          FAVORITE appointment  History  Cappelle       HAULOVER         history         uranium          Regional   Subscriptions  Multiplayer     Involved      minutes      hospital  BECOMES  Canada History        Multiplayer      featuresNFL     Headphones   According      Consultant          #fountainpens       Omega        Accidents        Medical  Equity   cancelled  #dayinthelife       ACCIDENT        Fukuyama:     Subscriptions   booktokers          Variety     erasing     Alina         Department          ​Championships          Etacude         Listened  society      Enthusiast     handwriting      DIABOLICAL   SafetyHow    COMPILATION        America      MrCreepyPasta       Democracy Citizenship  #chiropractor     Discovery!         Tokunaga         WatchMojo.com         Accuracy      Citarella        Prosecutors AdamantDitto     MidlandWindriders  anti-intellectualism       @GoldenSteerLasVegas      TermsPrivacyPolicy          AboutPressCopyrightContact  usCreatorsAdvertiseDevelopers

— The End —