MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY
hes a little troll man
>its a damian steals the pitch from someone and goes 1% lower episode
>>70356422
he hasn't done that since 3 or 4 seasons ago
SYNERGY
IS FOR FAGGOTS
>Have you ever drank a glass of black rhinoceros blood? Of course not, I was just being colloquial to start this story with an anecdote. The first time I had a glass I was in South Africa, taking a celebratory drink in Johannesburg after completing a successful hunt. You see, in South Africa they don't hunt lion, or elephant. We hunted a more dangerous game: the kaffir, or black man. I finally had a 7 year old boy cornered in an Oingo Bongo merchandise warehouse when the thoughts passed through my mind: Should I pull the trigger? Can I ever come back to who I was before this moment? I pulled the trigger, made my first 100 million dollars. Mr. Johnson, this is something you need to ask yourself: can I pull the trigger on this deal and make the right choice? 10% funding for 85% ownership and prima nocte rights to your daughters.
>>70356904
i require more of these.
>Let me ask you, have you ever killed a man? Have you ever stood before a fellow human and looked them right in the eyes and willfully taken their life? I have, and I remember it vividly. I was at a private dinner with my wine club and we paid someone to deliver us a slave for us to do as we please. Now we are not sadistic people, we did not torture him, we did not humiliate him, we simply let him watch as we drank and made conversation. When the night came to an end we looked at him and we told him he was going to die. He looked upset but he had already figured out that was going to be the result of his stay. I grabbed the knife off the table and I stood over him silently as I placed the knife into his chest. I am getting the same mood here in this room as I was that night, and make no mistake I do enjoy it, but I wasn't about to give the man I stabbed to death more than $5,000 for 10% of his company, and I'm not going to give you any better treatment.
>As a young child I saw my Mother relentlessly beaten by my Father. I can still recall hearing her muffled screams through the walls of my bedroom as I lay trying to fall asleep. Some nights were worse than others, but I can recall the mornings my Grandmother would take me to school because my Mother couldn’t be seen in public. She would wear sunglasses and long sleeve shirts for weeks while the bruising and swelling slowly healed around her eyes and arms. I never understood how something as simple as an overcooked meal or dropped glass of wine in the living room could send my father into these inexplicable fits of rage; not until this very moment. Not until I saw your presentation. You are the stain on my fathers rug and I see no club soda nor salt to scrub you away. For an investment of 250,000 dollars I will retain 92% of your company with a lifetime of royalties and if you even for a second glance in Lori’s direction, I will personally crucify each of your children.
>>70357771
My sides
>Now that Robert has ceased his pathetic mewling for attention, listen to this offer. For an investment of $1 million and a simple $3 royalty on every item sold, I will transform your weak, pink flesh into an armored juggernaut of cruelty and destuction. The wealth and power of whole nations will be enslaved to your will, and the blood and tears of whole peoples shall sustain your growing power. I will teach you the first 17 Keys of Solomon in return for an additional 15% equity, to be negotiated when your will has been shackled to my own and you have lost your mortal weaknesses of morality and ethics. Additionally, whatever fetid bloodline springs from your loins shall be soulbound into my service from birth to death. The deal is off if your heartbeat shifts by more than 5 beats per minute when I finish speaking or you fail to abandon your faith in God this very second.
>I have to be perfectly honest, I've never had any experience with cybersecurity. In fact, I pay someone $75,000 a year to operate my personal electronic devices on verbal command rather than spend a single moment learning to interface with these devices. However, I haven't made a deal in over two seasons and I'm tired of watching Robert and Mark suck up the oxygen in the room, so I'll make you an offer right out of the gate: $250k for 12% of your business. If you take a deal from Cuban instead, I'll deflate slightly and glance at you wearily but otherwise do nothing.
>>70356371
Can't wait to vote for O'Leary in the election
>>70357981
Sad!
>You know, scientists just discovered that sharks can contract cancer. And that makes me happy. Because I don't consider myself a shark like the tide pool chum sitting next to me. I am that cancer, I am a malignant, incurable, disease that can strike at any moment, I am the biggest killer in the civilized world. Last year 20,000 of my employees died in the workplace, all I had to do was give the relevant government official 100 gold bars to look the other way. So here's my offer, 70% of your company and I'll call off the hitman I hired before we started filming. You have 20 seconds before he takes the shot.
>>70358080
MOAR
>>70357981
Unfortunately he can't run for two years because he still has a contract with the show.
>Your pitch has triggered a long-forgotten memory inside of me Mr. Peets, deep inside the recesses of my mind. You see, I am an O'Leary, as my father was also an O'Leary. Long ago, when I was a young lad, I would spend my summers with him in the wild and rugged West Coast of Ireland. We always vacationed in a small yet cosy cottage, just on the outskirts of a village named Killybegs in the County of Donegal. I would spend my days roaming through the picturesque fields, and I would eat homemade brown bread sandwiches filled with the finest crab meat caught by the local fishermen. My father lived and breathed this country, and wanted to show me every part of it. One afternoon, he wanted to show me a place which I had never seen before, the city of Belfast. You see this was at the start of an era that would become known as The Troubles, and my father was a very famous man among a group of people called the Loyalists. We had just arrived in the city, and were walking down a street in West Belfast named the Shankill Road. Just then, a black van pulls up and three large men with balaclavas pulled me and my father inside of it. We sped away to an undisclosed location. While one of the men was blindfolding me, I could hear the other two men shouting incoherently at my father. The sounds I heard next were indescribable, the screams and pleading from my now-hysterical father, begging them to just let me go. I was not involved he told them, I had nothing to do with it. He was bludgeoned to the floor, and made a dull thud as we were dragged outside and brought inside a boarded up house. Inside, one of the men pulls out a revolver. He shoots my father in both of his knee caps. I was restrained as my father fell to the floor, reaching a hand towards me with the most indescribable look of terror on his face. That is what your pitch was to me, my father's exploded kneecaps on the floor, covered in the darkest blood you can ever imagine. And for that reason, I'm out.
>>70358902
Pure gold
>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, I'm out.
It's a Robert episode where he wants to give you everything you've asked for before any other offers, wants to take you kite surfing on weekends, and wants to become your new best friend, but, the business owner goes with a worse offer.
>>70357771
>>70356371
This guy is a literal sociopath
There's gotta be more of these.
>>70359901
no, he's just irish-american
>>70360449
he's Canadian
https://youtu.be/O3RtPkt2CGs?t=10m14s
use the url to skip to 10:14
>ywn enter the den and have banter with the dragons
kevin, kevin no, kevin listen!
