What have you bought onto Shark Tank today Sup Forums?

What have you bought onto Shark Tank today Sup Forums?

A movie where I take cinematic shots of L.A and tell my main actor to act autistic

Good idea right?

Some roast beef, some chicken, and pizza.

It's a golf set that you play on the toilet. I first came up with the idea when I was having a shit and thought ''Man I'd like to play some golf right now'' I'm asking for $500,000 for 25% of my compay

I have a Twitch.tv clone except only for toy unboxings, makeup demos, and cooking with a built in "buy now" mechanic as well as Ad revenue. analytics suggests women and children are more likely to spend money less frugally and YT videos in the same category do extremely well.

>What have you bought onto Shark Tank today Sup Forums?
Repeating digits.
You seem to have a bit of familiarity with them your self.

Mark, you like tech stuff. What if I told you there was a way to get dubs, trips, and even beyond with EVERY post?

I want to make a site with a search engine that will tell you how a movie ends so you don't have to watch it. I'm looking for $1,000,000 for 1% non-voting interest

my heart. see? it's on my sleeve...

>I’m going to cut in right now Mr. Wilson, because someone needs to stop this charade you’re calling a pitch. When I was a mere boy my mother came home from one of her many business trips to South Africa. Only this time she had brought with her a gift – an antique, in a sense. “It” was an ancient looking African man she referred to as Po’mamba. He stayed with us for many weeks, keeping me awake at night with strange chanting. I became so frustrated by the never ending stream of nonsensical noise my angry tears began to stain the front of my child-fitted Armani suits. On the fourth week, I came home from school early on account of Butch Charleston ruining my favorite handkerchief at recess. But the noises I heard from my manor were different that day. Peeking in the nearest window, I saw my mother surrounded by dark shapes, Po’mamba’s back against the glass. His chanting drowned out the sounds of my mother as I watched the surging black mass with confusion – until I realized it was a group of men. African men, slamming their cocks into my mother’s every orifice as she begged for more through two throbbing members occupying her mouth. All noise suddenly stopped. Po’mamba stepped forward, ripping off the tattered cloth that covered his crotch. An implausibly large penis flopped down between his legs which he guided into my mother’s bruised womanhood. The other gentlemen continued the chants. After what seemed like hours, Po’mamba released his load which oozed out through the small pockets of empty space between her flesh folds and his cock. A small speck of his thick semen fell from his glands as he exited, landing on the living room’s priceless Isfahan carpet. My day was perfect before your appearance here Mr. Wilson. I had breakfast with Buffet and Trump. I even made sweet love to Barbara on Lincoln’s original bed earlier. Your deal is the nigger semen stain on my priceless rug of a day. And for that reason Mr. Wilson, I’m out.

and what's stopping me from taking your heart, making my own and stomping you into the ground like the sub human trashman you are?