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There's been a lot of questions as to what's going on with the site and what comes next. So we have this (ordered) roadmap of what's being worked on and what's to come. This will be updated until the roadmap is complete as Æ has a lot of missing features and ideas that I'd like to fix in regards to its offerings before I implement big plans for the site's popularity and well-being in 2021.

Æ Roadmap

  • Content restoration (Mostly done, few things missing that will be restored sporadically)
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  • Paid bounty board for new articles (Won't be managed by me for legal reasons however I will ensure it runs smoothly)
  • Anonymous phone # service for those seeking ban evades from Twitter as well as a phone number not tied to their name (more details at launch)

  • Currently we are nearing our annual LLC renewal fee ($650) as well throwing the funds required for these other changes and aspects. If you would like to support Æ consider purchasing a copy of The Hustler's Bible or securing some Merch. Donating is also appreciated however I would rather give something back as per the two options above.

    If you have any questions you can join our public Telegram chat to DM me privately or @ me in chat.

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    Here's to setting the world on fire in 2021! - aediot



    Oscar Wilde

    From Encyclopedia Dramatica
    (Redirected from Edgar Allen Poe)
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    File:Poe.jpg
    Wilde, contemplating cock.

    Oscar Wilde (October 16, 1854 – November 30, 1900) was a successful playwright during Victorian London, as well as being a novelist, poet, short story writer, Freemason, and total homo. He is most well known for his famous trial, were he was convicted of indecent acts (which were included but not limited to fucking young men; the acts also included going other things to said young men). He is the father of all modern day trolls.

    In 1891, Wilde became intimate with Lord Alfred Douglas, and there were some lulz involving the man's father and vegetables, but eventually all of the bum-rubbery lead Poe straight into two years of hard labor, and not the kind of labor he enjoyed.

    File:Twinks.jpg
    The love which dare not speak its name.

    A quote from the trial:

    File:Nambla.jpg
    It is a little known fact that Poe was the founder of NAMBLA.

    Wilde: "The love that dares not speak its name" in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. It is that deep spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of art, like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and those two letters of mine, such as they are. It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as 'the love that dares not speak its name', and on that account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an older and a younger man, when the older man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him. That it should be so, the world does not understand. The world mocks at it, and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it."

    As you can see, Wilde was a total flamer, and probably would have been a furry had he been born in the right time period.

    Modern-day Poe

    1.

    Once upon a midnight dreary, while i pron surfed, weak and weary, over many a strange and spurious site of "hot xxx galore". While i clicked my fav'rite bookmark, suddenly there came a warning, and my heart was filled with mourning, mourning for my dear amour, "'Tis not possible!", i muttered, " give me back my free hardcore!".....quoth the server, 404.

    2.

    I got out just before the gate closed,"pools closed Poe..." Drippy my chest, I could here my heart's agonizing yelps. Looking up I saw a stallion, climbing aboard I. Looked down once more, I had left my dear sweat Amber Dragness, I peered away. The house crumbled to the ground. " fairwell, yiff mansion." I yearned in spite, as I almost got laid tonite.


    Oscar Wilde is part of a series on WHY IS THERE AN ARTICLE?
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