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Me fave flick, *Leviathan*—that grim Russian masterpiece—fits right in. “Man’s born to suffer,” it whispers, n’ sex-dating proves it. You’re chattin’ someone hot, thinkin’ “this is it!”—then bam, ghosted. Like Kolya in the film, fightin’ a rotten system, I’ve battled flaky dates. One bloke—miner’s hands, sexy beard—stood me up! Left me ragin’, pint in hand, cursin’ his name. “Everything’s corrupt,” I mutter, like the movie’s moody priest. Shitty vibes, yeah?

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Finally, I made it. The memorial is stunning, though. You walk in, and it hits you. The weight of history, you know? But then, I get a call. My phone’s buzzing like crazy. It’s my coworker, and she’s like, “Dude, the data you sent? It’s all wrong!” My heart dropped. I was like, “Are you kidding me?!” I had spent hours on that report.

The Verdun Altar in an Ancient Monastery: An 800-Year-Old Masterpiece of Evangelization