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flapping: My alternative activity other than flapping during lockdown
flapping: My alternative activity other than flapping during lockdown

My alternative activity other than flapping during lockdown

flapping: Say hello to Wilson, our 7year old black lab rescue. He loves to boop and snores VERY loudly when he's asleep. I'll have to catch him on video, but he sometimes snores with lips flapping. Hilarous!!
flapping: Say hello to Wilson, our 7year old black lab rescue. He loves to boop and snores VERY loudly when he's asleep. I'll have to catch him on video, but he sometimes snores with lips flapping. Hilarous!!

Say hello to Wilson, our 7year old black lab rescue. He loves to boop and snores VERY loudly when he's asleep. I'll have to catch him on...

flapping: Caught my dog right as she started an ear flapping shake
flapping: Caught my dog right as she started an ear flapping shake

Caught my dog right as she started an ear flapping shake

flapping: Totally.. heart starts beating a little bit faster & hands go “let the flapping begin”
flapping: Totally.. heart starts beating a little bit faster & hands go “let the flapping begin”

Totally.. heart starts beating a little bit faster & hands go “let the flapping begin”

flapping: Thanks, I hate penis flapping
flapping: Thanks, I hate penis flapping

Thanks, I hate penis flapping

flapping: Sea angels are small, free-swimming, marine sea slugs with wing-like flapping appendages
flapping: Sea angels are small, free-swimming, marine sea slugs with wing-like flapping appendages

Sea angels are small, free-swimming, marine sea slugs with wing-like flapping appendages

flapping: Pls tell felix stop flapping while making his video lmao😂
flapping: Pls tell felix stop flapping while making his video lmao😂

Pls tell felix stop flapping while making his video lmao😂

flapping: Majestic pup flapping in the wind
flapping: Majestic pup flapping in the wind

Majestic pup flapping in the wind

flapping: Synchronised ear flapping.
flapping: Synchronised ear flapping.

Synchronised ear flapping.

flapping: Flip flapping nice
flapping: Flip flapping nice

Flip flapping nice

flapping: Guys it’s closer. guys it’s flapping and twitching
flapping: Guys it’s closer. guys it’s flapping and twitching

Guys it’s closer. guys it’s flapping and twitching

flapping: If it ain't flapping in the wind, why even bother?
flapping: If it ain't flapping in the wind, why even bother?

If it ain't flapping in the wind, why even bother?

flapping: They're made out of meat.". "Meat?" "Meat. They're made out of meat." "Meat?" "There's no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They're completely meat." "That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars?" "They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come frommachines." "So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact." "They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines." "That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient megt.". "I'm not asking you, l'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in that sector and they're made out of meat." "Maybe they're like the orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage." "Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their which didn't take long. Do you life spans, have any idea what's the life span of meat?" "Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside." "Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads, like the weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through." "No brain?" "Oh, there's a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat! That's what I've been trying to tell you." what does the thinking?" "So "You're not understanding, are you? You're refusing to deal with what I'm telling you. The brain does the thinking. The meat." "Thinking meat! You're asking me to be- lieve in thinking meat!" "Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you beginning to get the picture or do I have to start all over?" "Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat." Thank you. Finally. Yes. They are indeed made out of meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years." "Omigod. So what does this meat have in mind?" "First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the Universe, contact other sentiences, swap ideas and informa- tion. The usual." "We're supposed to talk to meat." "That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out. there. Anybody home. That sort of thing." "They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?" "Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat." "I thought you just told me they used radio." "They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds: You know how when you slap or flap meat, it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat." "Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?" "Officially or unofficially?" "Both." "Officially, we are required to contact, welcome and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in this quadrant of the Universe, without prejudice, fear or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the re cords and forget the whole thing." " was hoping you would say that." "It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?" "I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say? 'Hello, meat. How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?" "Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they can only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty.slim. Infinitesimal, in fact." "So we just pretend there's no one home in the Universe.". "That's it." "Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you probed? You're sure they won't remem- ber?" "They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them." "A dream to meat! How strangely appro- priate, that we should be meat's dream." "And we marked the entire sector unoccu- pied. "Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially Case closed. Any others? Anyone interest- ing on that side of the galaxy?" "Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two ga- lactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again." "They always come around." "And why not? Imagine how un bearably, how unutterably cold the Universe would be if one were all alone ..." They're Made Out Of Meat?
flapping: They're made out of meat.".
 "Meat?"
 "Meat. They're made out of meat."
 "Meat?"
 "There's no doubt about it. We picked up
 several from different parts of the planet,
 took them aboard our recon vessels, and
 probed them all the way through. They're
 completely meat."
 "That's impossible. What about the radio
 signals? The messages to the stars?"
 "They use the radio waves to talk, but the
 signals don't come from them. The signals
 come frommachines."
 "So who made the machines? That's who
 we want to contact."
 "They made the machines. That's what I'm
 trying to tell you. Meat made the
 machines."
 "That's ridiculous. How can meat make a
 machine? You're asking me to believe in
 sentient megt.".
 "I'm not asking you, l'm telling you. These
 creatures are the only sentient race in that
 sector and they're made out of meat."
 "Maybe they're like the orfolei. You know,
 a carbon-based intelligence that goes
 through a meat stage."
 "Nope. They're born meat and they die
 meat. We studied them for several of their
 which didn't take long. Do you
 life spans,
 have any idea what's the life span of
 meat?"
 "Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part
 meat. You know, like the weddilei. A meat
 head with an electron plasma brain
 inside."
 "Nope. We thought of that, since they do
 have meat heads, like the weddilei. But I
 told you, we probed them. They're meat
 all the way through."
 "No brain?"
 "Oh, there's a brain all right. It's just that the
 brain is made out of meat! That's what I've
 been trying to tell you."
 what does the thinking?"
 "So
 "You're not understanding, are you? You're
 refusing to deal with what I'm telling you.
 The brain does the thinking. The meat."
 "Thinking meat! You're asking me to be-
 lieve in thinking meat!"
 "Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat!
 Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is
 the whole deal! Are you beginning to get
 the picture or do I have to start all over?"
 "Omigod. You're serious then. They're
 made out of meat."
 Thank you. Finally. Yes. They are indeed
 made out of meat. And they've been
 trying to get in touch with us for almost a
 hundred of their years."
 "Omigod. So what does this meat have in
 mind?"
 "First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it
 wants to explore the Universe, contact
 other sentiences, swap ideas and informa-
 tion. The usual."
 "We're supposed to talk to meat."
 "That's the idea. That's the message they're
 sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out.
 there. Anybody home. That sort of thing."
 "They actually do talk, then. They use
 words, ideas, concepts?"
 "Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."
 "I thought you just told me they used
 radio."
 "They do, but what do you think is on the
 radio? Meat sounds: You know how when
 you slap or flap meat, it makes a noise?
 They talk by flapping their meat at each
 other. They can even sing by squirting air
 through their meat."
 "Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether
 too much. So what do you advise?"
 "Officially or unofficially?"
 "Both."
 "Officially, we are required to contact,
 welcome and log in any and all sentient
 races or multibeings in this quadrant of the
 Universe, without prejudice, fear or favor.
 Unofficially, I advise that we erase the re
 cords and forget the whole thing."
 " was hoping you would say that."
 "It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we
 really want to make contact with meat?"
 "I agree one hundred percent. What's
 there to say? 'Hello, meat. How's it going?'
 But will this work? How many planets are
 we dealing with here?"
 "Just one. They can travel to other planets
 in special meat containers, but they can't
 live on them. And being meat, they can
 only travel through C space. Which limits
 them to the speed of light and makes the
 possibility of their ever making contact
 pretty.slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."
 "So we just pretend there's no one home in
 the Universe.".
 "That's it."
 "Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants
 to meet meat? And the ones who have
 been aboard our vessels, the ones you
 probed? You're sure they won't remem-
 ber?"
 "They'll be considered crackpots if they
 do. We went into their heads and
 smoothed out their meat so that we're just
 a dream to them."
 "A dream to meat! How strangely appro-
 priate, that we should be meat's dream."
 "And we marked the entire sector unoccu-
 pied.
 "Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially
 Case closed. Any others? Anyone interest-
 ing on that side of the galaxy?"
 "Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen
 core cluster intelligence in a class nine
 star in G445 zone. Was in contact two ga-
 lactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly
 again."
 "They always come around."
 "And why not? Imagine how un bearably,
 how unutterably cold the Universe would
 be if one were all alone ..."
They're Made Out Of Meat?

They're Made Out Of Meat?

flapping: 2GB Woke up to loud flapping, thinking a bird must be stuck in my room... Turned out to be a 3 inch moth with an alien-squid on his back.
flapping: 2GB
Woke up to loud flapping, thinking a bird must be stuck in my room... Turned out to be a 3 inch moth with an alien-squid on his back.

Woke up to loud flapping, thinking a bird must be stuck in my room... Turned out to be a 3 inch moth with an alien-squid on his back.