Glonk bot found new work after getting banned on r/prequelmemes

2021.10.25 14:49 Wasquatchy Glonk bot found new work after getting banned on r/prequelmemes

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2021.10.25 14:49 newsbrasilbot Três bares de Salvador são interditados no final de semana

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2021.10.25 14:49 jobsinanywhere CEO to Host 38th Global Conference in Tampa Oct. 28-30 – Tampa, Florida

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2021.10.25 14:49 LootsKanattari Every single night

Every single night submitted by LootsKanattari to kaisamains [link] [comments]


2021.10.25 14:49 anonymous-shad0w Statins May Be Tied to Lower Risk for COVID-19 Death

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2021.10.25 14:49 LifeguardShot4717 i don’t love dyeing used + non-white + translucent plastic. but this came out alright!

i don’t love dyeing used + non-white + translucent plastic. but this came out alright! submitted by LifeguardShot4717 to discdyeing [link] [comments]


2021.10.25 14:49 ConsistentPlace9162 ✨Social media break ✨ then proceeds to post every moment from her break 😂

✨Social media break ✨ then proceeds to post every moment from her break 😂 submitted by ConsistentPlace9162 to gymsnark [link] [comments]


2021.10.25 14:49 alexjericho13 I’d like to order a shopping cart of fries please

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2021.10.25 14:49 ivanm1991 [General] Building Drum Steriliser For Mushroom Growing

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2021.10.25 14:49 creamcheese5 Email from US Embassy RE: Voter Registration

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2021.10.25 14:49 RegrettablyYours41 IEX lawsuit.... what is next step? Where are we now?

Saw the tweets, memes, and posts.... but did not see if this is final today or simply a string of court dates
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2021.10.25 14:49 TravisWWE12 Bianca Belair

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2021.10.25 14:49 anonymous-shad0w More Than Half of U.S. Infants Born in High-Volume Obstetric Hospitals

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2021.10.25 14:49 Year-20-20 Hol up..

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2021.10.25 14:49 thousandcleverlines According to Spirit Halloween stores, this is what a DM should look like.

According to Spirit Halloween stores, this is what a DM should look like. submitted by thousandcleverlines to dndmemes [link] [comments]


2021.10.25 14:49 Mr_DMoody Astia din Iasi s-au autoproclamat esentiali. Deci sa mergi sa faci browsing sa vezi ce țoale sa-ti mai iei ca sa pozezi pe Instagram, este esential. Amin!

Astia din Iasi s-au autoproclamat esentiali. Deci sa mergi sa faci browsing sa vezi ce țoale sa-ti mai iei ca sa pozezi pe Instagram, este esential. Amin! submitted by Mr_DMoody to Romania [link] [comments]


2021.10.25 14:49 igoticecream Free shiny zacian (2) and shiny zamazenta (2)

Hello, todays is my birthday and i want to celebrate it by given away 4 shiny doggos. Enjoy them!

E1106TD9XBUMLBTM
E10979AYLCXEK7ED
E1095XSSJJDMLU1P
E1106TCXCUM69SBT

I dont know which is which, so you need to try them.
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2021.10.25 14:49 mal221 Hello Peter

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2021.10.25 14:49 Jguy10 When you upgrade to 4K Bluray

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2021.10.25 14:49 fragglerock What's Happening This Week (10/25/2021)

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2021.10.25 14:49 Rimuruto Quais são os efeitos da pfizer ?

No caso da segunda dose
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2021.10.25 14:49 samuel19xd FTX Crypto Exchange Finalizes LedgerX Acquisition.

FTX Crypto Exchange Finalizes LedgerX Acquisition. submitted by samuel19xd to CryptoCurrency [link] [comments]


2021.10.25 14:49 Erutious Towesey Homestead- The Scarecrows Know

(Part 1- https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/qey0cg/the_towesey_homestead_part_1_the_field_prepares/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
It started with the appearance of one unaccounted-for scarecrow.
"Brad, where did this scarecrow come from?"
Bradly, my oldest son, came up and looked at the strange scarecrow.
He was sitting in our west field, the cornfield, and he was sharing company with three other scarecrows. These three, however, were ones my sons and I had made in the barn. One bore the long dress my wife had donated to the cause, another bore a set of overalls with a slice up one knee that I had turned over. The third had a shirt and a pair of sweatpants from my middle son, Gregory. These three, I remembered. I should, after all, since I had built each of them.
This one, though, I did not.
It was a tall fellow, a wide boater hat sitting on a sack head with a pair of new-looking blue overalls and a checkered shirt in a dark blue/light blue pattern.
Brad took a long look and shook his head, "Nope, that doesn't look like one of the ones we made, daddy."
I scratched my chin, wondering if maybe it was something one of my other sons had erected, and shrugged it off as nothing.
One more scarecrow wouldn't hurt anything.
The next day, however, there was a new scarecrow in the east field.
My oldest and middle son, Brad and Greg, were with me as we checked the pole beans and weeded the squash when we came across a trampled patch of squash. Three perfect footprints could be seen in the remains of what had once been a large, healthy gourd. I looked around, looking for other squashed remains of vegetables when I saw another new scarecrow. This one was dressed in a slinky black cocktail dress, completed with a pair of strappy pumps at the bottom of the post. Someone had put lipstick and mascara on the burlap sack head to complete the illusion of a woman out for a night on the town..
I called for Greg, wanting him to bring me one of those pumps to check against the squashed gourd. Greg, however, was nowhere to be found. Brad came up instead and hooked one of the shoes, bringing it over almost gingerly. I appreciated his help, but Brad was begging to be under foot a bit too much. He and Greg had always been pretty close, but it seemed the two had had a fall out recently, which meant that he had spent a lot of time glued to my hip instead. I didn’t mind my sons company, but a sixteen year old boy should really be out chasing girls instead of being underfoot. Greg materialized out of the field then, brushing corn silk from his hair, and I wondered when he had had time to get over by the corn? I shrugged it off, holding the pump over the mark to prove what I already suspected.
It was a perfect match.
"What does it mean, Daddy?" asked Brad. He was the oldest but he had always been kind of a scared kid. His brother teased him about it, but I was starting to feel afraid of these things as well. This whole thing was a little creepy; people wandering around and leaving scarecrows in my field at night was more than a little spooky. I looked around the rows of pole beans as though expecting to see someone crouching there and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the autumn chill that was fast approaching.
"I don't know," I said to him, but I intended to find out.
I told my wife about my plans that night, seeing her looking less than enthused.
"So you want to sleep in tomorrow, letting your sons handle that day's duties, so you can keep watch in the hay barn tomorrow night?"
I told her that was the plan.
"Dale, who cares if people are leaving scarecrows in the field? One more scarecrow won't…."
"It's not the scarecrows," I said, cutting her off, "these people are trespassing and damaging my crops. I can't have that."
In the end, she only shrugged and told me to do what I wanted.
As I made my plans, however, it seemed that our mysterious trouble makers were making their own plans.
My sleep ended at about ten o'clock as my oldest came to wake me up.
"Sorry, daddy, but… .you're gonna wanna see this."
He was wrong, I didn't want to see it, but I did need to see it.
Someone had ruined eight of our pumpkins. This wouldn't have been such a loss, we had a whole field of pumpkins, but these pumpkins were in the small field near the barn. This was where we grew our state fair pumpkins. We had planted twenty. Of those twenty, only fifteen had taken. Of those fifteen, only seven were left, and two of those seven would have to be pulled as their roots were trampled.
In the small patch, seven scarecrows made a small circle in their midst.
I helped Brad dispose of the pumpkins. Greg was nowhere to be seen, and calling for him did very little. We had nearly cleaned up all the pumpkins by the time Greg came wandering out of the field to ask what had happened. Greg had been a strange boy as of late. He had always been so happy and outgoing, but this season he had been very moody. He spent a lot of time in the fields, just exploring and being out of the house, and I found myself wondering if he was smoking or maybe he had picked up a habit he didn't want us to know about. My wife said it was just a “a boy hitting that age” and reminded me that Brad had gotten a little moody at thirteen as well. The strangest part was that, sometimes, I almost felt like he was watching me from the crops, keeping tabs on me.
Watching me like I was the intruder.
He helped Brad take the wheelbarrows of smashed pumpkin away and Brad said he could handle the rest from here. They were on special leave from school, due to harvest preparation and he said the two of them could handle the rest today. I was up by then though, my mind angry and my head already making plans, so I told them I would help. We found five more new scarecrows, and that had only made me more furious. What in the hell was going on? Who were these people? Why were they coming onto my farm at night and making a mess of things?
I didn't know, but I intended to find out.
That night, I was sitting in the hay barn with a hunting rifle and a thermos of coffee just after ten as the family was getting good and asleep. I swept around with my binoculars, not really wanting to look through the sight if I didn't need to. I didn't want to shoot anyone if I didn't have to, but I was prepared to fire in the air or near them to scare them. A good scare might convince them that this little joke wasn't worth the effort, and then I could go back to farming in peace. I reached for my cup of coffee, the thermos within easy reach, and that was when I heard it.
From the field, wind rustled through the corn and the pole beans, and I picked up my binoculars to see if it was people in the crops or not. As I scanned, I heard a whispery voice, a spidery voice, and it called to me in the hayloft. I looked around to see if someone was calling up to me, but it was just me and crops out here. It came again then, that low, scuttling voice that told me to come out and walk amongst the corn, to stand amongst the squash.
It told me how nice it would be to walk barefoot in the soil, and, for a moment, it sounded like a good idea.
I had half gotten up to go do just that, and that was when I saw someone vault the back fence.
I shook off the funny mumbling and sighted him in my binoculars. He was bald, a long sleeve work shirt standing dark with sweat and a pair of black slacks that made him look like a floating torso in the dark. He was also Darius McAnn, the bartender at the Cloudy Schooner. What the hell was he doing here? The Schooner didn't even close for another five hours. He should be at work slinging suds and wrangling drunks, not...not….
Not running through my cornfield in the middle of the night.
I climbed down, taking care with the rifle as I sling it over my shoulder, and head out into the corn. My flashlight looked garish as it cuts through the shadows around the corn plants, but I knew that field like the back of my hand. I should, after all, since I've lived here for fifteen years. I've been planting corn, pumpkins, and beans since my oldest was a year old, and this is familiar ground to me. I head out amongst the stalks, hoping to head him off, but he's not where I expect him to be. I stopped, the moon high overhead, and turned in the direction he had been heading. I ran that way, expecting to hear the rustle any second now. Instead, I ran smack into a post.
I looked up the post and felt the hair stand up on my back.
On top of the post was a scarecrow.
A scarecrow dressed in the bartender's clothes and flapping lazily in the light breeze.
As I stood there, I heard others moving through the corn, taking paths at random, running off to do whatever it was that they did that turned them into scarecrows.
I’m not ashamed to say that I took off for the house. If you’ve never been in a tall field of vegetation, with things moving around you, then you may not understand how creepy it is. As I ran, I could see faces in the rows, people peeking through the rows and looking at me from farther out. I thought, for a moment, that some of those faces were even familiar, but, in my fear, I was fit for little more than running flat out for home. I went back inside and locked the door, needing to think about what I had seen, already certain I had fallen asleep in the loft.
When I woke up the next day, slumped across the couch, to find six new scarecrows in the field, I knew it had been no dream.
That afternoon, the Sheriff came to visit me.
Sheriff Dunland bore an unfortunate resemblance to Barney Fife. He had knocked on the door about noon, just as we were sitting down to lunch, and he swaggered into the kitchen with all the pomp his one hundred ten pound body could muster. He made the usual greetings, saying hello to my wife and sons, and then asked if he could steal me away for "just a minute."
"I promise he's not under arrest of nothin."
As we got to the front porch, he was already lighting one of those shitty home-rolled cigarettes.
"Sorry to pull ya out like this, but I'm working a couple of missing person cases, and I was wondering if you'd seen them."
I nodded, telling him I would help if I could and asking who was missing.
"Darius, the bartender at the Schooner, walked off last night under some pretty weird circumstances."
He told me that Darius had been cleaning glasses, serving the same six barflies he'd been serving since nine when he had suddenly looked out the batwings and walked out. The regulars hadn't thought much of it, but then he never came back to close up. "He's not at home, and he's not at the bar, so we're very curious as to where he might be," he said as he pitched his cigarette into the dirt.
I asked him what this had to do with me.
"Well, his truck is parked near the fence to your east field, so we was wondering if maybe you had seen him?"
That threw me. I hadn't even noticed the truck. I haven't yet been out to the east field today, so that wasn't altogether surprising, but it did explain how he had gotten to my house so quickly. I told the Sheriff that people had been coming out to leave Scarecrows on my property, probably a Halloween prank, but that they had been destroying my crops in the process. I said I thought I had seen him last night, even took him out to see the scarecrows, but he only shrugged and rolled a new cigarette.
"Sounds like kids playing tricks. I still can't imagine what Darius was doing in your field, but I still need to find him. If he should happen to turn up, you'll let me know, right?"
I told him I would, and he left by way of the east field.
When I came back, Thomas, my youngest, was sitting on the porch and looking out at the field. Thomas was six and not really old enough to help much in the fields. He tried though, he wanted to be just like his old man. He was a good boy.
I sat next to him on the swing and looked out at the fields too.
"Whatcha looking at, kiddo?"
"Just listening to them talk."
That made me furrow my brow a little, "Who." I asked, trying to hear what he was talking about.
"The scarecrows," he said, not taking his eyes of the crops as they swayed in the breeze, "cant you hear them?"
I looked out at the corn, the pole beans, the fields of produce, and shuddered a little as I watched the breeze play amongst it. I suppose I could hear something, something like I had heard the night before. It was a strange kind of whispering. I could hear it amongst the rattle of stray husk or the chuckle of bending stalks, but there was a harsher noise too. The creaking of old wooden stalks was audible in the wind now, too, and their chorus spoke of something very different. The call to the earth, the love of the land, the coming of the cold.
The coming of the Green.
I shook my head and told Thomas not to stay out here too long.
That night I was back in the barn, keeping watch over the crops. I didn't need the coffee tonight. I had only to think back on what my son had said and remember what I had heard scuttle through the fields to keep my spine chilled. Autumn was in the air, and it sounded as if the spirits were at work. City folk sometimes forget that fall is a time of growth but also a time of loss. We lay back to prepare for the coming winter, but the earth must also prepare for that hard freeze.
Sometimes, the earth is greedier than even we can imagine.
They started coming in at about eleven.
I could see them parting the corn as they ran. I tried to follow them with my binoculars, but it was in vain. I would lose sight of them, only to find a scarecrow a moment later. I was becoming frustrated because they never popped back up, and the scarecrows would go up. But how were they getting out again? They would make such a production of going into the field, only to disappear. What the hell was going on? Were they burrowing out like moles?
Then a screen door opened, and my attention was pulled back to my house.
I saw a little ghost in a long nightshirt streak into the cropland, his bare feet smacking the cold earth. I called out to him, but he never stopped. I cried out pitifully as he entered the corn, but he was gone amongst it in an instant. Not thinking about the fall, I leaped from the loft and thankfully landed in some deep hay. I was out and running in an instant, bolting for the place I had seen him disappear.
I was hot on Thomases heels as he dashed into the thick rows. His little nightgown, one of my old undershirts, flew behind him like a cape. Despite my long legs, he stayed one step ahead of me, and as we came into a patch of moonlight, I saw that he had stopped and stumbled to a halt myself. To this day, I don't know what I didn't just grab him. He was barely five feet away. I could have just reached out and grabbed him.
Instead, I was almost transfixed as the sounds of those scarecrows rustled around us.
"He comes with the wind."
"He comes with the cold."
"He comes with the harvest."
"He demands his sacrifice."
The words swirled around me, echoing in my head, carried by the wind, and they buffeted me like an angry sea.
My son turned to look at me, his eyes reflecting the light of the moon.
"The Green Man comes," he whispered, his voice high and cherubic.
Then, he simply sank into the ground, and I heard a scream rocket up my throat as he disappeared beneath the soil.
No matter how long I clawed at the earth, I could not find him.
After I'd dug a furrow four feet deep and still not found a trace of him, I was forced to give up.
It wasn't until I turned my back to go that I heard the creak of a wooden post.
The little scarecrow on the post was dressed only in my son's nightshirt, his charcoal face almost cherubic.
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2021.10.25 14:49 wuchii 1P Cali Raisins. Should I be concerned about the change in coloring on the left side? Never seen that before? COA included

1P Cali Raisins. Should I be concerned about the change in coloring on the left side? Never seen that before? COA included submitted by wuchii to FloridaDabs [link] [comments]


2021.10.25 14:49 anonymous-shad0w PCPs Not Routinely Recommending Early Behavioral Treatment for ADHD

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