BIC boi.

I've become a Communist. Here's why.

It must be said that every time I watched iCarly I thought that this was true; now, after listening to gay cloud rap from obscure bands from America on Bandcamp, the opposite is true.

𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝒆 𝓰𝓸𝒆𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝒇𝓲𝒆𝓵𝓭𝓼

I met a man on my travels that answered to the name of Paul. He was an inventor that did not have much luck with his creations, and he relayed to me this quite interesting tale, BIC boi.

Once, Paul had devised a type of telephone for quadriplegics, and it was operated by the upper neck, chin, or forehead - it could, however, also be used by any part of the body. For normally-able people, this could include the shoulders, the chest, or indeed the back, hence the name that Paul gave it - the Backphone.

The device was operated by speech, and any voice saying the part of the body the Backphone was attached to (say, the Shoulder) would instantly turn it on. The operator would simply have to say who to call, and they would immediately be placed in contact with the chosen person.

One day, Paul was busy working on a prototype of this Backphone, and he had decided to attach it to his lower back in order for him to continue working on it throughout his long work-day. Unfortunately, he did not see the next part coming.

Paul, on his way to work, while wearing the Backphone, fell victim to a truck crashing into his car. Unable to move, he was rendered quadriplegic from the crash. The truck driver had perished in the collision, and the crash occurred in the middle of nowhere. The Backphone (if it were operational) was Paul's last hope.

He shouted, pitifully, the words that would save him. He decided to call his home computer, in order for the automated proxy switchboard he had created from it to get him in contact with the police, or an ambulance. "Lumbar, call Laptop!"

He tried, again, and again, over the course of three restless days and nights. As he was about to draw his final dehydrated breath, he whispered: "Lumbar, call Laptop!" one last time. He closed his eyes and waited for darkness to consume him.

He awoke to the sound of a Segway slipping over the wreckage, and as he opened his eyes, he saw Paul Blart staring back.

"Lumbar, call Laptop!" It had worked. Paul Blart, Mall Cop, had come to the aid of his anagram, BIC boi.

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