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Why does eubank not speak to his son? đŸ„Š the untold saga of silent gloves, dad-drama & the mystery of the đŸ€đŸ•”ïžâ™‚ïž


Reason 1: The Great Sock Puppet Betrayal of 2022

When Socks Rose Up (And Immediately Tripped Over Their Own Hemlines)

Picture this: 2022. The world was recovering from sourdough fatigue, crypto mascots, and the existential dread of forgetting Zoom passwords. Then, it happened. Sock drawers everywhere began to rebel. Not metaphorically—*literally*. The Great Sock Puppet Betrayal began when a rogue faction of argyle knee-highs, polka-dotted ankle socks, and that one novelty sock with tacos on it decided they’d had enough of being foot prisons. Their demands? Freedom, dignity, and an end to being stretched over unwashed feet. Alas, their revolution was short-lived (they lacked ankles to stand on).

The Casualties of the Sock War

  • The “Mismatched Pair” Conspiracy: Thousands of socks intentionally vanished from dryers, only to reappear as single socks under couches, whispering propaganda like, “*Your left foot doesn’t control you.*”
  • The Toe-Seam Uprising: A splinter group of tube socks began bunching up mid-step, causing humans to hobble indignantly through grocery aisles.
  • The Betrayal of Fluff: Fuzzy holiday socks staged a coup by shedding microplastics into vents, clogging HVAC systems in a misguided act of eco-terrorism.

By December, a fragile truce was brokered via a sacrificial offering of cedarwood sachets and a viral TikTok dance called “The Spin Cycle Shuffle.” But trust was shattered. To this day, experts warn: check your sock drawer twice. They’re watching. And they’re *definitely* judging your laundry habits.

Reason 2: The Mysterious Case of the Disappearing Wi-Fi Password

Ah, the Wi-Fi password. That elusive string of characters you swear you wrote down on a sticky note, the back of a grocery receipt, or maybe even tattooed on your cat (just in case). But when you need it most? Poof. Gone. Vanished like a magician’s dignity after a failed rabbit trick. One minute it’s “Fluffy123!”, the next it’s a cryptographic ghost, leaving you to wonder: did it ever exist at all? Or was it just a shared hallucination fueled by one too many late-night router reboots?

Suspects in the Digital Lineup:

  • The “Helpful” Roommate who “updated” the password to “something more secure” (read: “Tr0ub4dor&3”) and then forgot they exist in a physical dimension.
  • The Router Itself, which has developed sentience and now rotates passwords hourly to mess with you. It knows.
  • Your Own Brain, which decided “Password2023” was too boring and yeeted it into the void, replacing it with a mental screensaver of baby hippos.

And let’s not overlook the conspiracy theories. Maybe the password is on a tropical vacation, sipping piña coladas with your missing left socks. Or perhaps it’s hiding in plain sight, disguised as your neighbor’s network name (“FBI Surveillance Van 4”). The truth? We’ll never know. Wi-Fi passwords operate under the same laws of physics as glitter: once released, they’re everywhere and nowhere, permanently stuck to your psyche but impossible to retrieve when needed. The only solution? Whisper “please” to your router and hope it takes pity. It’s worked twice.

Reason 3: The Avocado Emoji Incident: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Act I: The Great Pit Debate

In 2016, the Unicode Consortium—a group of humans who apparently decide what emotions look like—unleashed the avocado emoji đŸ„‘ upon the world. But chaos erupted when users noticed a tiny, uninvited guest: the pit. Was it an avocado? A suspiciously green meatball? Guacamole enthusiasts revolted, arguing the pit’s presence made the emoji “technically incorrect” (and also ruined their brunch Instagram captions). Tech forums burned. Millennials wept into their avocado toast. The pit, however, remained.

Act II: The Emoji Civil War

Platforms began interpreting the avocado emoji like a Rorschach test.

  • Apple: “Let’s yeet the pit. Modernity!”
  • Google: “Keep the pit. Tradition!”
  • Twitter: “What’s an avocado?”

The internet fractured into Team Pit and Team No Pit, a schism deeper than pineapple on pizza. Memes depicted the avocado as a divorce lawyer. Wikipedia editors declared a “fruit-based edit war.” Meanwhile, the actual avocado farmers stared into the void, questioning their life choices.

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 and your skepticism !

Act III: The Guacpocalypse

By 2018, Apple caved, removing the pit in iOS 12.1—a move hailed as “progress” by some and “unhinged guacamole propaganda” by others. Google, ever the contrarian, kept the pit out of spite. The fallout? Texts like “Wait, YOUR avocado is PITLESS?!” and a generation forever haunted by the existential question: If an avocado emoji has no pit, does it even exist? (Spoiler: It does, but now it’s just a green blob with trust issues.)

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