Assorted kopipe
STFU and Look, I'm sick and tired of yall critisizing 50. I know EVERYTHING there is to know about 50 Cent. He is the best rapper out there, and if you don't think so, well you don't know music and you don't even listen to all of 50 Cent's songs. Some of the songs may be a little nasty but that isn't all he raps about. He sings about violence bacause he had somuch of it in his life! i mean he DID see his mother be murdered. and he sings about drugs sometimes because he dealed crack at a young age. he lost a lot of loved ones at a very young age too. he didn't start dealing drugs until that happened. Maybe you all should give his music a chance- by one of his cds. One day, i will meet 50 and tell him all about what i think. 50 Cent is the best!
You are truly a god among bros.
Just when I think you're as solid as a bro can get, you raise the very definition of brodom to new heights. You're like a brogle, soaring to the farthest reaches of the atbrosphere. Seriously. If it weren't for you and your extreme brobility to hook a bro up when it is most croosh, I'd have been stuck in some bitch-ass seat, cramped all in the corner with a bunch of bitch-asses, bro. But you stepped up. You brovercame all obstacles to help a bro out. This is the kind of shit that makes bros for life.
You are the king of all bros. Brotankhamen. You are the Ayatollah Bromeini. You are Broseidon, lord of the brocean.
I've long admired your absolute broficiency in all things bro-related, and the way you've always carried yourself in a brofessional manner. I consider you a brole model. When I was new in this town, you took me under your wing and showed me the bropes. And I will always preesh that. Not only did you school me in proper brotocol, but you were a spiritual leader, a confidant, and, more importantly, a bro. You taught me how to be true to my inner bro and to bros around me. You are a real bro. Not a fake bro, like those other douches. I hate fake bros, bro. Faux breaux. Fuck that. No, really, bro?you're practically a bro-ther to me.
Look at you, blasting in like Rambro and firing off your launcher like nobrody's business, bro. Serious Brotosaurus Rex action. Brodius Maximus. I'm not big on labels, but you, more than any of the wiggers, bitches, goth chicks, dorks, homos, or Mexicans I know, are absolutely beyond rebroach.
In fact, your brotitude is so brossential that, in many ways, you are the ultimate brototype: You sprung out of the brotean ooze at the very broment of creation, unformed, unmolded, and became the ultimate bro, more powerful than any who came brofore. I don't fear your power, bro, but I respect it. And I will always brobey it.
Brosemite Sam. Potassium Bromide. Brobi Wan Kenobi. Brover Norquist.
Like Broseph Stalin, you are leading the way to the dictatorship of the broletariate. It is truly revbrolutionary. Like the Bro v. Wade of our generation. You brobliterate the enemy from the very peak of Mt. Brolympus. That's some shit. That's brolific. But that's the kind of bro you are.
You are the epitome of bro, in every brossible way, and that's the Bro's honest truth, bro. I may have a bropensity for broverstatement, but this no mere hyperbrole: You are 100 brocent, absbrolutely the broest. Brotally.
>>/r/ angry sun pics
wtf irony
When I was about nine, I had recently gotten a Nintendo Entertainment System from a garage sale down the road, the first gaming system I ever had. One game that I bought was Super Mario Brothers 3, the final chapter of the widely-acclaimed SMB trilogy, which like in the original Super Mario Brothers consisted of Mario/Luigi chasing after Princess Toadstool (whose name has since been bastardized to 'Peach'). Back on topic though; so I had advanced to World 2, "Desert Land" and I was moving along rather smoothly, in the back of my mind knowing that at some point the levels would start to get more difficult; I soon noticed a tile, one unlike the other tiles (Toad houses, numbered tiles, etc). It appeared to be some cross-hybrid of flowing diarrhea and sand, which caught my attention. I navigated my way to the tile, and hit the A button and was warped to what appeared to be a normal level; there even was a happy sunshine in the top left corner! As I side-scrolled my way through the level, the fucking sun decided to go apeshit and sodomize me repeatedly until I finally broke down in tears, throwing my controller at the ground screaming for my mom. That fucking bastard.
And no, this is not copy pasta.
As we all know, smoking is really bad for your health. What a lot of people don't realize is that when you smoke, those few minutes of your expected lifespan are literally transformed into the ash you flick away into an ashtray. Ashtrays, each and every one of them, are constructed by a single group running several dozen front companies.
Basically, unless you're putting out your smokes beneath your heel or in the ashtray your kid made at camp, you're dispensing your ashen life into this group's eager little recepticle. Their ashtrays absorb the life force from the ashes and sends it to a central holding facility. No one knows for sure what these guys are going to do when they've collected all that life energy, but it's probably going to be huge.
Incidentally, there's talk of a rival organization leading the anti-smoking political agenda from behind the scenes. They probably figure removing smoking sections, and thus ashtrays, from restaurants and bars is a good first step towards thwarting whatever it is this ashtray company is trying to do.
ATTENTION NEWGROUNDERS,
FACT: NEWGROUNDS WAS FUNNY WHEN WE WERE ALL 12 LIVING IN THE SUBURBS LISTENING TO LINKIN PARK WATCHING DRAGONBALL Z DRINKING PEPSI WHILE PLAYING HALO CO-OP ON THE EASIEST SETTING DURING WHICH WE CONSUMED DORITOS AND LOOKED AT PAINTBALL GUNS ON EBAY IN INTERNET EXPLORER CONNECTED THROUGH AOL ON A 56K MODEM BEFORE HOPPING INTO OUR BALDING FATHERS' LATEST MIDLIFE-CRISIS-IMPULSE-SPONSORED JAPANESE-BUILT SUV TO HEAD TO THE MALL AND GET MORE SKATEBOARDING SHOES AND THIRD-RATE IRREGULAR LEVIS AND MOUNTAIN BIKE PARTS BEFORE HEADING HOME, VOTING DEMOCRAT AND MASTURBATING TO THE LATEST SEARS CATALOG WHILE HUFFING PAINT IN YOUR GARAGE BEFORE TALKING TO PEDOPHILES ON AIM PRETENDING TO BE WHATEVER CAMWHORE THEY'RE RANTING ABOUT ON MYSPACE WITH A MATRIX QUOTE/ANIME CHARACTER NAME/TRIPLE SIX-ASTERISK-PARENTHESES-SURROUNDED SCREENNAME BEFORE HEADING TO YOUR SUPPOSED "GOOD SCHOOL" IN THE MORNING TO BUY MORE POT TO SMOKE DURING YOUR COUNTER-STRIKE LAN PARTY WITH JIMMY AND THE REST OF HIS FRIENDS TAKING RITALIN AND ADDERALL AND PROZAC EIGHT TIMES A DAY BEFORE TAKING A CASUAL PASS AT LOCAL, STATE OR NATIONAL GOVERNMENTIAL FIGURES, LEGISLATURE, OR STRUCTURE TO APPEAR EDGY AND INTELLIGENT IN FRONT OF YOUR BUDWEISER-SNEAKING, LIMP-WRISTED, NEAR-TO-COLUMBINE SOCIOPATHIC "DEEP" FRIENDS WHO PLAY THE VICTIM WHEN THEY START LOSING ARGUEMENTS SIX DAYS BEFORE THEIR BOTCHED SUICIDE ATTEMPT SIMPLY BECAUSE SCHOOL TRAMP NUMBER TWELVE WOULDN'T GO UNDER THE BLEACHERS WITH THEM TO LET THEM GET TO SECOND BASE BEFORE THEIR THIRTEENTH BIRTHDAY.
Okay, so I think I understand what's going on. You're curious that your "boyfriend" (read: fuck-of-the-week) spends a lot of time every day going F5 F5 F5 on 4chan's /b/, which is the only part of the fucking site he probably goes to. So you decided "Hey, I think I'll post a thread here and see what these CRAZY HILARIOUS INTERNET PEOPLE have to say!" I bet you like going to sites like Fark and collegehumor and Ebaumsworld when you're not posting glitter comments in people's myspaces and listening to the streaming mp3s they have linked on their profiles.
Also, you are a ridiculous waste of a human being with nothing better to do with your time than to sit here and say "Hey guys I'm a girl teehee I giggle and I'm soft and I get to wear cute clothes when I go out on Friday nights! Hey you know what'd be fun I have a good idea I'll sit here and press F5 F5 F5 on a thread I made and watch people from the internet talk to me!"
You're just trying to validate your vapid existence by proving your gender to you, yourself.
Femininity doesn't travel over Ethernet and DOCSIS, honey. When you're standing there at the bus stop in the morning on the way to your $8/hr part-time job, and people start talking to you, they're not "being nice people" - they're trying to find an opening to get a chance to fuck you. And you're so wrapped up in yourself that you don't even realize it, you just think that people are talking to you because you look cute and it brings a smile to their morning to see a pretty young thing like you.
But nobody would have known you were a girl if you hadn't fucking posted this abortion of a post. Therefore any and all conversation you're having here is completely initiated by you, for the sole purpose of garnering internal merit for yourself.
In the middle of the earth in the land of the Shire lives a brave little hobbit whom we all admire. With his long wooden pipe, fuzzy, woolly toes, he lives in a hobbit-hole and everybody knows him
Bilbo (Bilbo) Bilbo Baggins He's only three feet tall Bilbo (Bilbo) Bilbo Baggins The bravest little hobbit of them all
Now hobbits are peace-lovin' folks you know They don't like to hurry and they take things slow They don't like to travel away from home They just want to eat and be left alone But one day Bilbo was asked to go on a big adventure to the caves below, to help some dwarves get back their gold that was stolen by a dragon in the days of old.
Bilbo (Bilbo) Bilbo Baggins He's only three feet tall Bilbo (Bilbo) Bilbo Baggins The bravest little hobbit of them all
Well, he fought with the goblins He battled a troll!! He riddled with Gollum!!! A magic ring he stole!!! He was chased by wolves, Lost in the forest, Escaped in a barrel from the elf-king's halls!!!!!!!
Bilbo (Bilbo) Bilbo Baggins The bravest little hobbit of them all
Now he's back in his home in the land of the Shire, that brave little hobbit whom we all admire, just sittin' on a treasure of silver and gold puffin' on his pipe in his hobbit-hole.
Bilbo (Bilbo) Bilbo Baggins He's only three feet tall Bilbo (Bilbo) Bilbo Baggins The bravest little hobbit of them all
BE IT BREAKFAST, BRUNCH OR BED AND BE YOU A BAREFOOT BURGLAR, BRITISH BANKER OR BEDFAST BOOKMAKER A BASIC BESTIAL BLESSING IS THE BURGER! A BILLION BURGER BANQUET BEQUETH UPON ME FROM A BURGER BASTION OF BEDLAM BARELY BEGINS TO BOIL MY BULKY BURGER BURDEN. YET I MUST BARE BULBOUS BEGGERS BESEECHING BURGERS TO BUILD UPON THEIR BIG BAGGAGE WHILE BREEDING BARBARICALLY. BUT BEFORE THE BURGER BANQUET A BETTER BEGINNING IS OBLIGED. YOU MAY CALL ME BURGER KING.
right I still couldn't believe my buddy and me were piloting Odin Mk 9 Dekamecha Bipedal Strike Units. Not long ago we were buying model kits of these and drybrushing the 500 cal Fully Autospastic Carbines, and arguing online about whether 5 feet was thick enough for a Reinforced Steelithium Omnishield. And yet here we were on patrol, the blue colour of my Dekamecha Bipedal Strike Unit designating its purpose, SEARCH, and the white colour of his designating DESTROY.
The assassin was hiding out in the genetics district, and it was a matter of time until my ZX-11 GPMegaS Recononavi v3 locked onto his intrinsic field and gave up his whereabouts. My buddy lagged behind to question a police officer while I moved ahead with the sweep. My unit's Ultra Mega High Frequency Commlink broadcast across all known dimensions that the assassin had been narrowed down to this metroblock, and that evac procedures were mandated by the Odin Mk 9 Dekamecha Bipedal Strike Militia.
Suddenly the ZX-11 GPMegaS Recononavi v3 cried shrill beeps at me. The assassin had been found! I closed my left eye and a map drew itself in light on the inside of my eyelid. He was behind us! Behind my partner! He was ... the policeman he was just talking to ...
A satcam shot of the policeman beamed its way onto my Immensely Immersive Heads Up Display. An inhuman, alien snarl formed on his face and he drew something from his stolen uniform, aiming it at my buddy's back. I screamed at him over the Ultra Mega High Frequency Commlink.
"That policeman is the assassin! HE'S GOT A GUN!" "He's got a what?" "A GUN!" "What's a gun?" "HE'S GOT A 500 CAL FULLY AUTOSPASTIC GIGA-ROUND CAPACITY NANO RELOADABLE –"
After the funeral yesterday my new patrol partner got assigned to me.
She's a Fully Organic Vagina-Ready Cock-compatible Caucasoid Female.
I expect sex.
Hey Canada boy, look at yourfaggot picture. You can't call anyone a faggot when your face is the ultimate faggot face. And it looks like your pretty dumb yourself considering you can't even spell penis.
Chess is a crappy tactical turn based RPG developed by a bunch of monkeys.
Right away you'll notice Chess has no storyline. Instead, all you notice is the the White army and the Black army are fighting each other over a battlefield. Note the "a battlefield," because Chess only has one story map.
As for the actual combat, it's extremely dull. Each unit can kill another with only one hit. This means units with a real good movement ability dominate the field (more on that bellow). There aren't even any combat animations or anything that happens in combat. One unit moves on it's space and "captures" it, and the piece is removed from the game with no form of action or special effects.
Yawn.
Chess has shitty class balance. The Queen is flat out overpowered while your actual front line units, the Pawns. can't do shit. I think the developers were afraid that no one would use the female character so they buffed up her abilities really high but now theres no point in using any other unit.
The rest of the units suck. Rooks can only move in 4 directions, same with Bishops. Boring. Also, whats up with the Knight? It has the most bizzare combat abilities of all the units. They're retardly hard to use cause they jump around like retards to move and attack. The devs should have named this unit Ninja, since Knights didn't jump around like that in real life.
Worst part, is the king. You see, the devs decided that if your king gets captured, you instantly lose the game. W-T-F? This wouldn't be a problem, except that he can't move for crap. Seriously, the most important unit in the game can only move 1 space a turn? Good luck keeping him alive while every other unit in the game dances around him.
Unbalanced classes, lackluster gameplay, and not to mention repetitive 1 hour+ games. Chess is not worth the time or your money. Buy Final Fantasy Tactics or Disgaea instead.
3 out of 10.
I am Chinese man and very happy. We taking all your money U.S.A. Ha Ha Ha. Soon you will all work for Chinese man. Ha Ha Ha. We make everything, you make nothing. Ha Ha Ha. Soon you are third world county like Mexico. Ha Ha Ha. We will be buying your country cheap. Ha Ha Ha. We make friends with Muslims and will get more of the oil so you have little. Ha Ha Ha. You have stupid politicians. Ha Ha Ha. Soon you will all be very poor. Ha Ha Ha. Soon you all be dead.
Have you heard of the "Chuck Norris Facts"?
There are more than 50,000 jokes making their way around the Internet that purport to be "facts" all playing off my movie roles as a "tough guy" and my history as a martial arts champion. But they aren't "jokes" to those who spread them � they're "facts."
Here are a few of my favorites:
"When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris."
"Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants."
"Outer space exists because it's afraid to be on the same planet with Chuck Norris."
These "facts" have become a phenomenon � a fad spread mainly by young people of high school and college age. It's hard to explain why these things happen � how they take on a life of their own.
Naturally, over the past couple years as this wildfire has been raging, people have asked me, "What do you think of all this?"
My answer is always the same: Some are funny. Some are pretty far out. And, thankfully, most are just promoting harmless fun. (But be careful if you go searching for "Chuck Norris Facts" on the Internet, because some are just not appropriate for kids.)
Being more a student of the Wild West than the wild world of the Internet, I'm not quite sure what to make of the craze of "Chuck Norris Facts." It's quite surprising. I do know that boys will be boys, and I neither take offense nor take these things too seriously. I'm so grateful for my fans. Who knows, maybe these one liners will prompt some one to seek out the real facts about me and the beliefs that have shaped my life and my career.
While I have as much fun as anyone else reading and quoting them, let's face it, most "Chuck Norris Facts" describe someone with supernatural, superhuman powers. They're describing a superman character. And in the history of this planet, there has only been one real Superman. It's not me.
Let me illustrate using a few of the claims being made about me in the various lists of "Chuck Norris Facts":
Alleged Chuck Norris Fact: "Faster than a speeding bullet ... more powerful than a locomotive ... able to leap tall buildings in a single bound... yes, these are some of Chuck Norris' warm-up exercises."
I've got a bulletin for you, folks. I am no superman. I realize that now, but I didn't always. As six-time world karate champion and then a movie star, I put too much trust in who I was, what I could do and what I acquired. I forgot how much I needed others and especially God. Whether we are famous or not, we all need God. We also need other people.
If your whole life is spent trying to make money and you neglect the people important in your life, you will create an emptiness deep in your heart and soul. I know. I fell into that trap. I dedicated my whole life to fame and fortune. I had a huge hole in my heart and was miserable until I met my wife, Gena, who brought me back to the Lord.
Alleged Chuck Norris Fact: "There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of creatures Chuck Norris has allowed to live." It's funny. It's cute. But here's what I really think about the theory of evolution: It's not real. It is not the way we got here. In fact, the life you see on this planet is really just a list of creatures God has allowed to live. We are not creations of random chance. We are not accidents. There is a God, a Creator, who made you and me. We were made in His image, which separates us from all other creatures.
By the way, without him, I don't have any power. But with Him, the Bible tells me, I really can do all things � and so can you.
Alleged Chuck Norris Fact: "Chuck Norris' tears can cure cancer. Too bad he never cries. Ever."
There was a man whose tears could cure cancer or any other disease, including the real cause of all diseases � sin. His blood did. His name was Jesus, not Chuck Norris.
If your soul needs healing, the prescription you need is not Chuck Norris' tears, it's Jesus' blood.
Again, I'm flattered and amazed by the way I've become a fascinating public figure for a whole new generation of young people around the world. But I am not the characters I play. And even the toughest characters I have played could never measure up to the real power in this universe.
Coffee was a much prized commodity. One day Alfons told Rudi how they brewed coffee in the trenches, in 20 easy steps: (This comes directly from Alfons’s diary.)
1. Send request to higher echelon, stating that the company did not have any coffee for 3 weeks.
2. Get answer, stating that coffee will be included in next main food distribution.
3. Get four 10-litre insulated canisters of brewed coffee, 2 weeks later, cold and stale, since canisters were on a cart that got hit by an artillery shell underway and were only retrieved after two weeks and then brought to the front line.
4. Try to stay polite while requesting 5 Kg of DRY coffee and send request.
5. Get big, new, wax-sealed tin can containing 25 Kg of freshly roasted coffee.
6. Open can and find whole beans.
7. Say something that cannot be printed.
8. Tell men who are off-duty to find one or two coffee grinders.
9. Ignore demeaning remarks from men who have been 5 weeks in the same wet mudhole called a "trench" and not replaced by fresh troops because totally cut off and cannot go anywhere.
10. Briefly think of possibilties of using a machine gun to grind coffee. Decide it would not be a very good idea although there is plenty of ammunition.
11. Sigh.
12. Notice that single French / Senegalese black P.O.W. (who is also stuck in the same hole) is laughing his head off since he noticed that the German Army is not capable of grinding coffee.
13. Ignore Senegalese stupid remarks about village women doing a better job in Senegal and without a coffee grinder.
14. Suppress urge to shoot P.O.W. and put pistol back into holster.
15. Ask P.O.W. how Senegalese women would do it.
16. Get four men to "get and clean that large piece of 380 mm artillery shell fragment that is lying somewhere over there".
17. Tell two men to clear their rifles and carefully clean the butts.
18. Pour 5 Kg of coffee beans in mortar-like shell fragment and tell the men with the clean rifle butts to use the rifles as pestles and grind the coffee, African-housewife style.
19. Have ground coffee distributed to all men of unit who have not died laughing and tell them to do with it whatever they like, avoiding remarks about sunshine.
20. Toss cup at Lt. Muller and tell him to brew coffee.
Has anybody ever tried cooking with their own semen?
About a month ago I got adventurous and decided to fap into the frying pan, using my semen in place of little extra butter I usually put in the pan when I'm grilling grill'd cheese.
I didn't notice much difference in flavour when I tried it, although it definitely didn't taste any worse.
Last night, however, while in the process leading up to grilling two sandwiches for lunch for myself and my sick mother, I noticed my neighbour's 13 year old daughter changing in the yard next door (our window sort of faces out into the neighbour's yard, the suburban layout of our community is somewhat strange), presumably after getting out of the pool. I got the urge to fap and decided to encorporate it into my cooking again in secret.
My mother did seem to notice a difference in flavour for the better - I nonchalantly told her I used a different butter, which in it's essence wasn't entirely a lie, I just didn't specify it was my nut butter. I'm not about to outright lie to my mother.
I consider myself a respectable man of principles, you know.
Original, hand-crafted copypasta; The perfect present for a wedding, christening, new baby, birthday, anniversary, retirement, mother's day, thank you, school reunion - any occasion you can think of! Our copypastas are each individually handcrafted by a skilled and dedicated chef and guaranteed to be of the highest quality.
These beautiful and decorative copypastas are hand-crafted from crushed and powered words bound up with only the finest pasta. Every copypasta is completely hand made, from the basic raw materials through to the finished product every process is carried out by hand. The only exception is a cleaning and polishing process in which the copypasta is put through special machines. Even these machines have been developed for particular use in the preparation of the copypasta, for, although the copypasta is quite durable, fine details such as noses, horses ear's, swords, daggers and flag staffs could be snapped of if treated too roughly.
The National Association of Copypasta Chefs (NACC) is dedicated to protecting artists and crafters - their work, creativity and intellectual properties and marketing rights. I believe to keep the true work of the artist and copypasta chef alive we must act to promote and protect our art and craft.
I've figured out a simple means to reduce the amount of copy pasta on /b/. Just like 4chan scans for duplicate images, it can also scan for duplicated text. If you try to submit a post that contains 98% of the same text as some other post, then it can reject your post as copy pasta. This will force stupid 4channers to be more original.
This thread is so confusing. I don't even know what's real and what's copypasta anymore.
Have you ever read a post on /b/ and wondered whether or not it is copy pasta? It is almost as though half the posts are pasta. Maybe they all are. Maybe this one is. Maybe it is not. Maybe it will become pasta at some point in time. Maybe it will be pasta'd over and over in this very thread. Maybe more threads will be made filled with this post. Although I fear it, I wouldn't doubt it.
The thing is, people don't realize the work that goes into properly doing copypasta. They think copypasta is something that slackers can do, or faggots, or assholes. It's not true. Copypasta is a dying artform and if you don't see that, I don't know what's wrong with you.
First of all, you sacrifice spending real time on /b/. You can't participate as much as you'd like to because you're so busy doing copypasta that you can't. As a result, you miss a lot of really great threads. Still, it's a sacrifice, so you do it.
There's also the problem of "Flood detected". This message can really hurt your progress. You should try to get your copypasta into every active thread and if you have to sit there waiting before the flood period is over, you lose valuable time. This is also very difficult.
Also, picking which threads should get a copypasta first are sort of difficult. There are threads that don't stay on the first page for very long, so you may be missing some of the more prominent threads. Of course, you should try to hit them all, but for the desire effect, you need to get into bigger threads quickly.
Finally, there's the moral problem. One thing about copypasta is that sometimes it feels good, but sometimes it feels bad.
BTW, this wasn't a copypasta, I just typed it out.
The beautiful Princess Thalyncuntel, daughter of the Elven king Elevandorlythen, is a fuckin' slut. Regardless, every single member of the party wants to fuck the living shit out of her hot Elven arse, pooper and all, and spray her with their interracial, multicolored love potions (IF YOU CATCH MY DRIFT). But there's a problem, a huge problem.
Due to the recent outbreak of the deadly virus dubbed AIDS in the underground Dark Elven province of Ayphrika, the princess has unfortunately been corrupted by the niggardly fluids of a Dark Elf and has caught the disease. This merely hinders the party's goals in regards of time, these bastards want to shove the shank REAL soon or their Balls of Blue Tinge +1 will explode in a painful array of blood, gore and semen, and that's never any good.
The party find themselves in a dungeon on the Far East side of Faerûn after following the advice of an old crone outside of an inner city brothel (where Tom's mum works). They are informed that the cure to AIDS is hidden deep within the dark recesses of this evil dungeon, guarded by a mighty troll and his band of personal guards. The old crone warned them that the dungeon was part of an old deserted Dark Elf barracks which was burnt to the ground in an effort to try and rid the land of AIDS. She warned that there are creatures that still lurk in the depths and that the disease is rife amongst them.
The usual basic rules are used in this scenario save for a few new ones, specifically created for this very scenario:
� All monsters in the dungeon are infected with/have aids poisoned weapons. If a character gets aids, they must roll 2d6 before each turn. One determining if any damage is inflicted and the other determining how much damage. The same rules for poisoned weapons are used for enemies with AIDS poisoned weapons. � The dark elf character (in the event of there actually BEING one) has aids, regardless. His motive is to secretly hinder the party as the backstabbing nigger he is and get to the cure before them all. The Dark Elf is also affected by the AIDS damage rule in that before every turn they must roll 2d6 from the beginning of the game, naturally.
I live in a small town in Kansas. I've always been the artsy type..painting, photography...while most other guys around here were more jocky. Tons of guys joined the millitary after high school and now almost all of them are in Iraq. They send letters home saying how proud they are of their wives and how it must be hard for them to deal with their husbands being away.
Well do you know how they deal with it?
They fuck me.
Thats right. While you are away getting your ass hot off I'm shooting myself off in your wifes ass. Thank God for George Bush. I have about 4 wives I'm currently fucking because of his great leadership. I voted republican this year and then promptly went to a shipped off wives's home and came in her mouth.
Dinosaurs are one of the coolest things from my childhood, and I remember all the dinos-- MOTHERFUCKING DINOSAURS, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I FEEL ABOUT THEM? MOTHERFUCKER, I WANT A CUTE LITTLE VELOCIRAPTOR AS A PET, TO CUDDLE UP WITH HIS FEATHERS AND EVERYTHING. I DON'T MEAN A JURASSIC PARK VELOCIRAPTOR EITHER, THAT'S A DIENONYCHUS, I'M TALKING ABOUT A REAL VELOCIRAPTOR. ABOUT THE SIZE OF A CAT, AND IT'S A PACK ANIMAL, SO IT WOULD BE LIKE HAVING A TWO LEGGED DOG COVERED IN FEATHERS. I'D TOTALLY NAME HIM SOMETHING AWESOME, LIKE NATHANIEL OR SOMETHING, AND I'D CARRY HIM AROUND WITH ME, AND MAYBE TEACH HIM TO STAND ON MY SHOULDER, AND ALL THE GIRLS WOULD BE ALL OVER IT, THEY'D BE "OH, ENGARDE, THAT'S A CUTE LITTLE RAPTOR YOU'VE GOT THERE, CAN I PET HIM?" AND I'D BE LIKE, "WELL, SURE YOU CAN, NATHANIEL LIKES BEAUTIFUL WOMEN." AND THEN SHE'D BE ALL BLUSHY, AND WE'D START A MEANINGFUL CONVERSATION ABOUT RAPTORS, BECAUSE WOMEN LOVE DINOSAURS. I'D HAVE NATHANIEL SIT ON MY DESK AND KEEP ME COMPANY ALL DAY.
I don't know about you guys, but knowing that gay marriage exists here now has hurt marriage. Whenever I try and fuck my wife, all I can think about is two sweaty, heaving male bodies joined together in government sanctioned disgusting decadent man sex with large calloused hands grasping and moist gasping lips joined with giant throbbing cocks ohh yeah <@Harman_Smith> I once posted a thread on /b/, and it got no replies. How about that?
My friend has one of the most DISTURBING, DISGUSTING pooping habits ever.
This kid I know weighs 450 pounds and is morbidly obese. I'm surprised he hasn't died from it yet. He's only 17. A few of my friends and I went over to his to keep him company since his parents were out of town. He wanted someone to play PS3 with him so we were happy to oblige.
Around 20 minutes into a game of Resistance, the kid goes "i'll be right back, i gotta take a crap." and walks off. I noticed he grabbed a large bucket, which I found strange. What happened next disgusted me beyond all reason.
From the bathroom, I heard a large roar, like a beast of some sort. I asked one of my friends who knows the fat kid a lot better than I do what was going on. His response still haunts me to this day:
"He takes a bucket to the bathroom with him because the smell always makes him puke. All the crusty shit and ass sweat caught in the folds of his fat have been decaying for months because he can't clean himself. As soon as he drops his pants, the shit/sweat stench fills the bathroom and he begins throwing up."
Don't say another Goddamn word. Up until now, I've been polite. If you say ANYTHING else - ONE word - I will kill myself. And when my tainted spirit finds its destination, I will topple the Master of that dark place. From my black throne, I will lash together a machine of bone and blood, and fueled by my hatred for you this Fear Engine will bore a hole between this world and that one. When it begins, you will hear the sound of children screaming -as though from a great distance. A smoking orb of NOTHING will grow above your bed, and from it will emerge a thousand starving crows. As I slip through the widening maw in my new form, you will catch only a glimpse of my radiance before you are incinerated. Then, as tears of bubbling pitch stream down my face, my dark world will begin. I will open one of my six mouths, and I will sing the song that ends the Earth.
Here we go again, another fucking dickhead trying to tell me how to live my life. This babyfur_watch asshole on here, commenting on my LJ telling me that im making a big mistake by throwing away my college education just to, quote, "Roll around in crapped diapers and meddling in cheap and petty BDSM fetishes." Who the fuck do you think you are saying this shit, i swear to the fuckin heavens above if i knew where you were, i would come over, break my foot off in your ass and slice your damn throat. I have enough crap coming from my dad and grandmother about the way im living my life, so i dont need to hear it from some fucking scumbag like you. There are two things you do not fuck with when it comes to me, my friends and my lifestyle. You screw with either one of those things and you're gonna have one pissed off fox on your ass. Just becuase im a babyfur doesnt mean that i dont have a dark side, i will go medevil on you if you provoke me. I'm getting fuckin sick and tired of these fuckers thinking that since we're babyfurs that they can push us around and redicule us and not have us fight back. Most, if not all of us babyfurs get pissed off if an outsider decides to fuck with us. You may not like the fact that we are babyfurs, but you will fucking respect it, that's all we ask anyways. Everyone has their fetishes, and ours just happens to be wearing and using diapers, sucking on pacifiers and bottles, wearing baby clothes and acting like baby's. We aint hurtin no one by doing this, but there are some that are making it seem that way, which is complete and udder bullshit. As far as the BDSM stuff go, so what, i wanna be owned by someone and dommed by them, big deal. Keep your fucking comments to yourself if all they're gonna do is gonna piss off whoever your sending it to. Use common since you stupid pricks...oh wait, you dont have any!
Here we go again, another fucking dickhead trying to tell me how to habeeb it. This ittybittybaby_watch asshole on here, commenting on my LJ telling me that im making a big mistake by throwing away my college education just to, quote, "Don't believe it" Who the fuck do you think you are saying this shit, i swear to the fuckin heavens above if i knew where you were, i would come over and punch you in the face. I have enough crap coming from my cute dad about the way im living my life, so i dont need to hear it from some fucking itty bitty boat like you. There are two things you do not fuck with when it comes to me, my itty bitty baby and my twinkie house. You screw with either one of those things and you're gonna have one pissed off itty bitty baby on your ass. Just becuase im an itty bitty baby doesnt mean that i dont have a twinkie house, i will go medevil on you if you provoke me. I'm getting fuckin sick and tired of these fuckers thinking that since we're itty bitty babies that they can push us around and habeeb us and not have us fight back. Most, if not all of us itty bitty babies get pissed off if an outsider decides to fuck with us. You may not like the fact that we are itty bitty babies, but you will fucking respect it, that's all we ask anyways. Everyone has their fetishes, and ours just happens to be not believing it. We aint hurtin no one by doing this, but there are some that are making it seem that way, which is complete and udder bullshit. As far as the habeebing it stuff goes, so what, i wanna not believe it, big deal. Keep your fucking comments to yourself if all they're gonna do is gonna piss off whoever your sending it to. Use common since you stupid pricks...oh wait, you dont have any!
The very first Communists were early Slavic tribes who owned so little they had to share everything. They were renowned warriors, whose battle tactics consisted of getting as drunk as mortally possible, then drink twice as much more and charge at the enemy wielding a hammer in one hand and a sickle in the other. Even in these early times they were called the Red Army for their red faces (esp. noses). A Communist Warrior was terrible to behold in battle, bashing, slicing, and breathing alcoholic fumes at his enemies. Mortally wounded, he would merely fall asleep at the field of battle, only to wake up the next morning with regenerated limbs, healed wounds and a severe headache.
Pictured: Victreebel.
== Everybody Walk The Dinosaur Open the door get on the floor
guys, you'll never believe what just happened no less than 15 minutes ago. so my sister and her boyfriend came home while i was watching TV and they went into the kitchen to get some drinks. while in the kitchen they were doing their whole lovey dovey thing and kissing and playing grab-ass and what not, and it was unappealing to me, so i went up to my room. a few minutes later, i heard them enter into my sister's room and then some rustling occurred. i thought nothing of it, they were probably just making out again on her bed. then i heard her scream and i got worried so i ran over to her room, and opened the door, got on the floor, everybody walk the dinosaur! open to door, get on the floor, everybody walk the dinosaur! BOOM BOOM ACKLAKKALAKKA BOOM BOOM BOOM ACKLAKKALAKKA BOOM!
I hate fags. I fucking hate them with a passion. When comes the revolution, the fags will be one of the first in line for the firing squad.
Now this would be nothing unusual to say in /b/, since most of you feel the same way. The only reason I'm being so frank about it is that I am a fag myself. Now this is not the usual "self-hating gay" rant that everybody and their mother has heard. It's not that my hatred comes out of sheer internalized homophobia. It's just that every fucking fag I encounter is shallow, frivolous, and so grating in their vapidness that you just want to crush their skulls in a fucking vice. Their pretend mannerisms, so-well rehearsed and practiced, and that god-awful, shrill, effeminate tone of voice that they always adopt - all of them make me wish that I could enjoy the fabled bliss of pussy.
Tell me that there's at least one person that doesn't buy into this commercialized "queer eye" bullshit - there is none, at least from my experiences. It's always that same vapid little twat walking about with their just as shallow faghag bitch friends. This is why I've learned to stop having any desperate dreams of a relationship - and besides, they're all too busy fucking each other without condoms to actually have a serious relationship anyway.
I know you're thinking this is all BAWWWWW over a lack of a boyfriend, but think about it. It's really the same things most of you think about women (even though you still love tits and vagoo) and all because the lot of you are sexless, virgin /b/tards. You hate women precisely because there's no hope of you loving any, and you hate fags because they can make so many friends with women while you can't. It's all the same shit, just in a different world.
Mmmmmm... Fried pig pussy! Once you eat one of these pig pussy pork rinds, you'll never eat another.. human pussy again. But FUCK human pussy! I fuck dead pigs. You'll read all about it in heartburn how I fuck them dead pigs before I turn em into pork rinds!
I couldn't get no twat from serenity back then. She only wanted dildos in her pussy twat. Big phony bologna dicks. But now she wants this real cock. Come here serenity lets show these assholes how we fuck. Lets show these assholes how we fuck. My sweet sweet serenity.
Fuck an umbilical cord out of your phony asshole, and I'll hang a pig with it, while I impregnate you with my 80 year old pork rind dick. You'll give birth to a dead pig and we'll cut him into pork rinds.
All in pork rinds of god. In a land that speaks only with its eyes. No language, no dildos, no fucking laws! Where the whores can't sell their pussy. Or use their twats to gold dig. A land where us warriors run free with our big dicks out, and our fucking hair wild.
Eat pork rinds, eat dead pigs. Eat pork rinds, eat dead pigs. Eat pork rinds, eat dead pigs. Salt their dead skin and put em in plastic bags. Fuck you, you fucking, farting robots. Suck my dead pig. Suck my dead pig!
I get to the office at 9ish and I'm not in the mood to work. In walks this hard street nigger and he asks for a job.
Nigger: Yo, ya hire? Me: Say what? Nigger: Ma, I nee a jo Me: You speekee engrish? Nigger: I say I nee a jo,
I knew what he was saying. He was one of those niggers that like to leave the last letter off of every word. Five bucks = Fie buck, Old school = O schoo, etc. The conversation went on for a few minutes until I was finished fucking with him.
Me: I pa fo dolla Nigger: Fo dolla! Shee Me: Aight, aight, fodolla twenny fi cen Nigger: Minima way sicsevenfi muthafucka Me: Fi dolla no mo, no mo fi dolla Nigger: (speaking clearly for the first time) FUCK YOU!
I nearly pissed myself. Yet I am not racist, I'm a sterotypist. Yes, there's a difference. Go ahead and /b/ yourself.
Yesterday at around noon, I had been extremely bored for the past couple of hours. So, despite all the temptations to just jerk off to my manga, I decided to go to my friends house and hang out. We started to play pokemon and that got boring, so he suggested doing prank calls. I honestly have never done any prank calls, though I have seen most of the Girl Talk raids. He called the local gamestop and asked if they had any ps4's. I kinda cringed at the low brow humor, but I wanted to try. He gave the phone to me. I had no idea what to say. He just told me to think up of some ridiculous story. Being the /b/ that I am, I decided to act like I misdialed and I was calling my girlfriend or something. I, sadly, have no girlfriend and never had, so I have no idea what couples talk to each other like. He told me that he was going to download a random number, so it wouldn't be anyone that I knew. Phone rang, person picked up, I started to talk. "Hey, how you doing?" There was a pause. "So, are we gonna fuck tonight?" Another long pause, then the phone hung up.
I went home at around midnight, and my mom was in the living room sitting by the light. She seemed a bit upset, but I had no idea why. She looked at me and then asked, "What have you been doing?". I started to think to myself OSHI-, my friend must of called my house, that douche. "Uh... I have been hanging out at my friends." "O really.." My Dad walked into the room, and he looked pissed off too. I know they must of knew it was me. I'm dead. Then my mom started off, "I found these magazines in your room. we seriously need to talk about these." It was probably the weirdest feeling in the world. The feeling relief that you weren't in trouble for something you did, and the feeling that you have just been caught with porn.
So now I'm locked in my room. How do I get out?
Humans can only stand so much awesome, it's in our genetic code. Dragonforce, for example, taps into the unused portion of our brains and unravels a sixth sense to a new level of awesome that humans cannot normally experiance. When you listen to Dragonforce, you are not only listening to music, you are taking a journey to another place, another world that some can never hope to behold on their own. Like a scout sent into an unknown land, a voyager on a quest for the unknown, like a tribal Shaman on a spiritual journey...all society can hope for is that you bring back a piece of what you now have engraved upon your soul, and help free the repressed souls and minds of all civilization.
And totally fucking rock out.
I want to be the best, there ever was To beat all the rest, yeah that's my cause!
Radiatore, Pipe, Barbina, Manti Quadrefiore, Rigate, Fiori, Pici Stelle, Orzo, Pearl Pasta, Ditali Pastina, Mezzelune, Fregula, Ravioli!
Cook'em, Cook'em, gotta' cook'em all! Gotta cook'em all! Pasta!
I'll search across the land, look far and wide Release from my hand, the power that's inside!
Fideos, Trenette, Tagliatelle, Couscous Bigoli, Pipe, Reginette, Mafalde Fusilli, Fuzi, Al dente, Lanterne Capelli d'angelo, Pennette, Trenne!
Cook'em, Cook'em, gotta' cook'em all! Gotta cook'em all! Pasta!
Funghini, Spätzle, Trennette, Trofie Cencioni, Fideuà, Cellentani, Marille Alphabet pasta, Capunti, Gramigna Calamaretti , Ditalini, Lasagna!
Gotta cook'em all, gotta cook'em all! Yeah! Gotta cook'em all, gotta cook'em all! Yeah!
Gotta' cook'em all, pasta! Ow!
Spaghetti, Ptitim, Fantolioni, Farfel Fettuccine , Cappelletti! Anellini, Croxetti, Strangolapreti Orecchiette, Spirali, Strozzapreti!
At least 68, or more to see To be a cooking master is my destiny!
Woah! Catch yer breath, man Shake out those lips and loosen that tongue! It's downhill from here Just 24 more to go! Now it gets tricky - so listen real good!
Sorrentini, Israeli couscous, Pelmeni Risi, Fagottini, Tuffoli, Gnocchi Rotini, Kreplach, Egg barley, Tortiglioni Gigli, Rigatoni!!! We're almost home!
Gotta cook'em all, gotta cook'em all! Yow! Gotta cook'em all, gotta cook'em all! Huh!
Cannelloni, Casunziei, Penne, Gemelli, Panzerotti Farfalle, Torchio, Foglie d'ulivo, that's all folks!
Cook'em, Cook'em, gotta' cook'em all! Oooh, gotta' cook'em all, Pasta! Cook'em, Cook'em, gotta' cook'em all! Oooh, gotta' catch 'em all, Pasta! Cook'em, Cook'em, gotta' cook'em all! Gotta' cook'em all! Pasta!
I go to the store just to organize the shelves.
Always the grocery store, they are way more fun and in my opinion more "strictly" laid out so it's easier to work in groups if that's what you want to do. it's just fun and i suppose i'm doing people a tiny little service by doing it and that's cool too. this is literally what i do instead of play video games
my favorite aisle is breakfast, the whole thing with the hot and breakfast cereals and the poptarts and oatmeal. it's the most colorful aisle and it's easy and fun to stack and look at things. second favorite is either the other boxed good heavy aisle where they keep the hamburger helper and stuff or the sauces section with ketchup bbq etc. juice aisle is colorful but usually doesn't need much reorganization and most of the items are really heavy
i don't think any of the employees have noticed i do it semi-regularly, but i do get thanked often when they notice me moving things.
Original, hand-crafted copypasta; The perfect present for a wedding, christening, new baby, birthday, anniversary, retirement, mother�s day, thank you, school reunion - any occasion you can think of! Our copypastas are each individually handcrafted by a skilled and dedicated chef and guaranteed to be of the highest quality.
These beautiful and decorative copypastas are hand-crafted from crushed and powered words bound up with only the finest pasta. Every copypasta is completely hand made, from the basic raw materials through to the finished product every process is carried out by hand. The only exception is a cleaning and polishing process in which the copypasta is put through special machines. Even these machines have been developed for particular use in the preparation of the copypasta, for, although the copypasta is quite durable, fine details such as noses, horses ear's, swords, daggers and flag staffs could be snapped of if treated too roughly.
The National Association of Copypasta Chefs (NACC) is dedicated to protecting artists and crafters - their work, creativity and intellectual properties and marketing rights. I believe to keep the true work of the artist and copypasta chef alive we must act to promote and protect our art and craft.
You wake to find yourself in a plain room with two doors opposite each other and a note on the table. Reading the note, you find that you have been selected for a scientific study into human psychology.
The note tells you that the experiment takes place over the next 20 years, and you may not leave until that time is up. After 20 years you will be able to return to your life as normal. It tells you to press button A to open room A or B to open room B. By opening one door, you permanently lock the other door. By pressing both buttons simultaneously, you permanently lock both.
Behind door A is a hemispherical room with radius twice your height, in which you would be constantly observed. If you enter that room, you may request, by speaking into the microphone in that room, as many inanimate, NON-ELECTRONIC objects to be brought to you as you want, as long as there is judged to be no way that you could use the item to kill yourself or escape. If you do attempt to kill yourself, you will be sedated and returned to your room, with the items you used permanently removed. (Remember that you can ask to have all the essentials brought to you whenever you want; a bed, meals, drink etc). You will be force-fed if you choose to starve yourself.
Behind door B is a gun and a bullet.
Which door do you open?
It was my second year of college and I was walking back to my dorm one night (I attend UC Berkeley and it's fairly open to the rest of the town, Berkeley, itself) and I wasn't with anyone and it was a more secluded, quieter, darker side of campus.
So, anyways, out of nowhere comes these 2 white kids (Just like me) with a knife, demanding I hand over my money. Just as I'm doing this (I'm 6'8" 240 but I'm not going against a knife) some black guy rounds the corner behind the white kids. He just goes "WHAT THE FUCK?" and pulls a gun out of his waistband. First thing I think is "Oh fuck we're all dead" but he just approaches the kids, tells em to put the wallet, cell phone and the knife they had on the ground. They do and then they ran. The guy just tucks the gun back in his waistband and smiles at me. I was kind of nervous but really fucking thankful, so I offered him some cash for possibly saving my life. He said "No, I'm fine. I'll get my payment eventually. There's benefits to being a good guy, right?" I nod and laughed at him.
However, right before I left he asked if he could use my cellphone. I handed it over and he made a call. Turns out he was on his way to Christmas shop and had forgotten the list so he needed to call his uncle back and recheck it.
I have never met another human being like that again. He changed my perceptions of minorities forever.
This is not copypasta .
I believe my true self is that of a 1978 Honda Civic. That is who I truly am on the inside, my soul-being. To express this aspect of my personality I draw pictures of myself as an anthropomorphic 1978 Honda Civic and share them with others of my kind. My girlfriend is an 1975 AMC Gremlin, and we are soul-mates. Automobile soul-mates. I communicate with others of my kind mostly through the internet, but sometimes we attend conventions. People persecute us for our true selves. My neighbor threatened to call the cops on me just for talking to his Escort. I'm not even into Fords, but that's besides the point. Just because I AM a car doesn't mean I'm going to have relations with just every car I see. It's not about the sex, though there is a 1955 Chevy Bel-Air I will never forget. You never forget your first. But I'm sick of people saying I'm perverted and wrong, and that I'm not really a car I'm just crazy. They don't understand, I have just as much right to the road as they do. Those assholes at the DMV are the worst, but I'd rather not talk about that ugly incident of carsecution. I have a good mechanic, though. You've never lived until you've had this guy change your oil. It doesn't make me gay, because I'm a Honda, not really a person. Your morality doesn't apply to me. I am a car. Beep beep, mother fucker. Deal with it.
If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don't you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all who claim it? Do you read everything you're supposed to read? Do you think everything you're supposed to think? Buy what you're told you should want? Get out of your apartment. Meet a member of the opposite sex. Stop the excessive shopping and masturbation. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you're alive. If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned...... Tyler
ahhhhh
You're life does not suck and you're not a loser, my life is the one that sucks. My dad died of cancer, and my mom died while giving birth to me. My dad blamed me for it and liked to prove it by hitting me and telling me that only mother killers cry. I was placed in special education classes because without a tounge I was unable to speak. I was held back three times because the teacher lied about my grades, she did this so she could have rape me. She weighed over 500 pounds and sounded like a horse trying to eat a dead clown. The only reason I passed special-ed high school because the school would no longer keep me.
My weight rivals that of five average goon neckbeards (a person with a neckbeard), and my neckbeard looks like a bird nest mixed with shit and cheetos. My dad died and gave all of the money to the local church and the priest ran off with everything. I had to take a job at McDonald's as the "special" guy that works at those places, not because I'm retarded, but because the manager was the woman from my old school that raped me.
One day I walked into the living room of my 200 square foot apartment and saw a black cat get run over by a guy in a truck. I waddled outside in time to see him back up and crush another cat, I was walking the shoulder of the road and the guy hit me as he tried to drive away. Somebody called the police and the police gave me a citation for not keeping my cats on a leash, even though they were not my cats, and the guy in the truck successfully sued me for the damage to his truck.
My face is covered in deep rooted acne that can only be cured with surgery, or a very thick needle. Working as the special worker at McDonald's does not pay very well so I tried to needle the zits out, now I have zits and scars on my face. The rest of my body is hair and acne, I have to cover my bed in talcum powder so I can keep away the pain long enough to pass out from exhaustion.
I am fully deaf in one ear and I can only hear a high pitched whine in the other ear. I can only see the colors red, orange, and yellow. Having no tounge I have never tasted food. My nose is so full of snot and other assorted crap that I am also unable to smell.
The only time I ever interact with people outside of work and the forums is going down to the local game store where I buy used copies of 5 year old games because I only make minimum wage.
This account was given to me out of pity, and I am only able to access it at the library. I'm fairly sure nobody goes near me at the library because I have not been able to shower for the last three years of my life.
The only joy I have in life is pretending to be other people.
Are you trying to tell me YOUR life is worse than mine? Well fuck you and the elephant that trumpeted you in to this place.
FUCKING FUCK I HATE RETARDS LIKE YOU. I GO TO HARVARD AND MIT FOR JOINT CONC. AND I GET A "DERP THERE'S ONLY FOURTEEN".
YOU'RE THE REASON HITLER WANTED TO BURN MILLIONS OF PEOPLE YOU SACK OF DOG SHIT. I HOPE YOU HAVE FINANCIAL DEBT AND CANCER.
OCTANE MEANS EIGHT CARBONS YOU FUCKING HANDICAPPED FAMILY BREAKER. YOUR PARENTS HATE YOU. YOU FUCKING IDIOT. YOU'RE THE REASON THEY HAD TO SELL THEIR HOME TO MAINTAIN YOUR DOSE OF RIDDELIN AND ADDERALL. I HOPE YOUR COUNTRY GETS NUKED FOUR TIMES SO HARD THAT MATERNITY WARDS WOULD BE FILLED WITH COOKED TURKEYS THAT WILL NEVER BE A FUCKING STUPID AS YOU.
I JUST SHAVED MY BUTT HOLE AND NOW IT'S BLEEDING. THERE WAS TOO MUCH HAIR IN MY BUTT AND IT FELT LIKE THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING UP THERE. I WAS SICK OF ADJUSTING IT EVER FEW MINUTES. SHAVING IT WAS FINE UNTIL THE END WHEN I NOTICED IT WAS BLEEDING IN THAT STRETCH OF SKIN WHERE MY ASS MET MY DICK. WHEN I SEEN BLOOD ON THE RAZOR I FREAKED. THEN I PUT A WASHCLOTH UP THERE THAT IS NOW SOAKED WITH BLOOD AND SHIT. THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER SHAVE YOUR ASS.
(to the tune of pokemahn)
I WANNA BE, THE VERY BEST,
LIKE NO ONE EVER WAAAS,
dun dun dundun
TO PUNCH THOSE WHO CALL IT ANIME
TO BECOME A REAL ARTIIIIST
dun dun dundun
I WILL TRAVEL, ACROSS THE LAND
SEARCHING FAR AND WIIDE
dun dun dundun
OH ANIME, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE
YOU'VE RUINED ART OH NOOOO
MODERN AAAAAART'
WHAT A FUCKING JOOOKE~!
I KNOW IT'S MY... wait no I screwed it up somewhere...
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I, BILLY MAYS HERE WITH KABOOM. DO YOU HAVE LOTS OF DIRTY SHIT IN YOUR HOUSE THAT NEEDS ALL CLEANED UP? THEN BUY SOME OF THIS GODDAMN KABOOM. THIS SHIT COULD CLEAN THE WARTS OFF YOUR SISTER'S VAGINA. YOU CAN PUT SOME KABOOM ON YOUR DICK, AND IT'LL GROW THREE INCHES. FUCK.
IN A FEW MINUTES, THERE WILL BE A GODDAMN NUMBER ON YOUR SCREEN. CALL THAT SHIT AND BUY SIX JUGS OF THIS FUCKING KABOOM AND WE'LL THROW IN A SAMURAI SHARK AND SOME GODDAMN ZORBEEZ. WHAT ARE ZORBEEZ? YOU BEST BE JOKING, NIGGER. THOSE FUCKING TOWELS CAN SOAK UP LIKE A GALLON APIECE. YOU'LL PROBABLY NEED THEM AFTER YOU SHARPEN YOUR FUCKING SCISSORS WITH THE SAMURAI SHARK. BECAUSE YOU'LL SIMULTANEOUSLY SHIT, PISS, AND EJACULATE IN YOUR PANTS. HOW DO YOU PISS AND EJACULATE AT THE SAME TIME? FUCK YOU, THAT'S HOW. CALL ME NOW AND I'LL STOP YELLING. NEVERMIND, I CAN'T STOP SO FUCK YOU. I'M GONNA GO JACK OFF WITH SOME ORANGE-GLO SO PEACE OUT NIGGERS.
SO CALL 1-800-781-7529 NOW AND TELL THEM BILLY MAYS SENT YOU
THAT NUMBER AGAIN IS 1-800-781-7529 THAT'S ONE EIGHT ZERO ZERO SEVEN EIGHT ONE SEVEN FIVE TWO NINE
CALL NAO!
Dear /b/,
I really need your help on this one.
My wife had breast cancer and she went for, what I thought, a removal of said cancer. However, when she came back and showed me the result the doctor had COMPLETELY REMOVED HER LEFT TIT. She asked me what I thought and my first response was: "It's horrible!" She cried and got angry, so I tried to explain it to her best I could I said "look honey remember when that one speaker of your car stereo was busted? You hated having to listen to only one speaker!" She continued crying and so I got mad and called her doctor to ask him what the fuck was wrong with him cutting off her complete left tit like that. I said: "Look pal maybe you buy your wife new tits every year but to me that's at least 9 months of salary!" to top things off her nipple is gone! They just threw away the tit AND the nipple. So even if I WOULD buy her a new left tit the nipple is god damned gone, now how in the hell is that supposed to make sense?! One tit minus a nipple. I told the doctor he owes me a new tit and a new nipple and slammed the phone on the hook. I god damned loved that tit.
Can I sue this doctor for a new tit?
Many years ago, in high school.
Love transferred to my school when I was a sophomore. I didn't recognize her, but she knew me as a friend of a friend. We would sit next to each other on the hour-long bus ride to school. If she didn't have afterschool cross-country, we'd sit next to each other on the ride home too. I found myself trying to put my arm around her and stuff. Sometimes on accident. Sometimes not on accident :3. Eventually though, I just dropped any idea of trying to get her to like me romantically. I still liked her, and valued her as a friend.
On one bus ride, Love told me that she had tried to kill herself. I got really scared and held her tightly. I embraced her right there on the bus. I didn't know what was going on, and I apologized. I was just scared. I didn't want to lose her. After a year of sitting on the bus next to each other, we'd gotten a love of minds I guess. I apologized a lot, and tried to explain. She didn't really mind. I think she understood.
Love started not showing up to school every day, sometimes for weeks at a time. I didn't fully understand it at the time, but she was getting shuffled around between foster homes. When I didn't see her on the bus, I'd call her. We talked every day. It was part of my routine. I started riding my bike over to her place, or she would jog over to my place. She started coming to my place more and more often.
I found out about her and the foster homes. Love's father raped her when she was very young. She tried to commit suicide on a semi-regular basis, and was on a number of anti-depressents. She had spent a lot of time living with foster families, because she kept getting removed from her home. But she always ended up back with her family (and her father).
Love's parents were very religious, and controlling too. They intercepted my letters to her. I forget exactly what it was, but they were like, holy rollers or something. I've always been awkward around the passionately religious, and tried to avoid them, but whenever I saw them, they seemed to bug her about using her medications as a crutch.
One day, Love showed up while I was just sitting around playing Starcraft. She sat on a green blanket hanging over the edge of my bed. I felt really awkward -- I was not being a good host, but come on, Starcraft yo. She looked at me with this weird impish look. I looked at her and started apologizing for my nerdyness. Love kissed me.
Woa.
"Did you not like it?"
"No. I mean... it's just a surprise."
I kissed Love back. We sat there on my bed, kissing. Just kissing. Deep long kisses. Next morning at the bus stop, we sat there kissing each other. We lived to kiss each other for the next few days.
We started seeing each other like every day. Mainly Love would come over to my place, and we'd make out. It got heavier and heavier over time. After two weeks, we were doing some petting. It was clear she had some issues... her teeth would start chattering and she would tense up when I gave her a hand job. She couldn't stop it, it just... happened. I knew it had something to do with her childhood abuse.
After a few more weeks, we did it. We had sex in an abandoned van in my neighborhood. We went through a couple of condoms that night, some broke. She wanted to do it, but it took like an hour of petting for her to open up to me. Sex was always difficult with her, like her body always just wanted to clam up.
Still, we did it. And we got better at it over time. :3 We were having sex every day. Love's parents got wise to us (by reading my letters) and stopped letting her out of the house. I just went to her house. We'd 'go for a walk' with the sanction of her parents and have sex in the park. I don't think the parents ever caught on to that one.
I started getting afraid. The more we had sex, the less talked about feelings and life. I loved the sex, but we used to have something really special and it was fading. I wanted to be her pillar. At the bus stop, I floated the idea of breaking up. BAD IDEA. She started crying, and crying, and crying. She promised to stop taking drugs (which I didn't know about). She promised she'd do anything. I couldn't take this sight and just took it back. I never wanted to hurt her, I was just afraid that by being her boyfriend, we were both losing something more important. But it wasn't worth hurting her over.
There were lots of little details and events in the relationship. But mainly sex. We had sex like the horny 17 year-olds we were. Everyday, everywhere. Fast-forward four months.
Love misses her period. I try to hold out faith that it must be some kind of fluke, but it's not. I promise to support her no matter what. She wants an abortion. Her (deeply religious) parents find out, because of her morning sickness. Shortly after that, she's removed from the home by child protective services.
For the most part, I don't have any contact with Love. She sends an email to me once from her grandparents' house, but that's it. I get into contact with her guardian ad litem, and am vaguely kept up to date. I find out she's getting an abortion, I offer anything to help. She tells me the time, date and location. I go.
They're late. They're very late. I ask the woman at the desk, but she can't tell me anything. Abortion privacy rules. I sit in the parking lot for an hour. Waiting to see if she comes out of the clinic. I get a phone call from the guardian, telling me they're late. Half an hour passes. The guardian shows up with Love. They needed to a judge to intervene to get her released from the juvenile center against the parents' will. My love goes into the clinic and is quickly taken back. I gave the guardian all my money. Not quite enough to cover the procedure, but she picks up the tab.
I wait in the operating room. I know I can't go back there, but I wait. And wait. And wait. It was only supposed to take an hour. Something's wrong, and I know it. I watch other women come out. I cry to myself, alone in the clinic.
The guardian comes out, tells me it's done. They're wheeling Love out the back in a wheelchair. Bad reaction with the anesthetics or something. I say hi to Love, and she says hi back, but that's the extent of it before she ends up in the car going back to the juvenile center.
I don't hear anything from Love for a while. I haven't really talked to her for like two months. Very scared for the future. There is some deep hate between me and her family at this time. I wanted to kill her father. I was turning into something I didn't want to be with all this hate.
A week after the procedure. With no word, no warning, Love shows up on my doorstep. I'm happy, but she seems worried. She snuck out of the juvenile center with another girl. It had been a rough journey getting back to my house. I bring her to my room. We make love. For the first time, it's perfect. The best ever. Totally smooth and open. Probably because of the surgery, but what ever.
Love lives in my closet for a couple weeks. I don't tell anyone. My sister finds out (heard us having sex), but keeps her fucking trap shut. Love's parents start accusing me of hiding her. My mother steps up to defend me (sorry Mom!). Eventually, I come clean to my Mom, who's angry. But she eventually warms up to Love. Turns out Mom was raped by her father too. Really, she just gets angrier at the family.
Love contacts her guardian ad litem and goes back to the juvenile center. We start getting into contact more, as she spends more time at the grandparents. A plan is hatched by the guardian ad litem (whose main goal, btw, is to get her out of her father's home permanantly).
Love will go to a religous school, funded by her grandparents. A catholic home for delinquent girls. The parents are not happy, because it is catholic, but somehow the plan goes through. The school is in the state, but over a hundred miles away. The guardian brings her to my house, and we say goodbye.
I send her letters every other day but don't get any reply. Slowly, I send less and less letters. Every now and then, I get messages from her over the internet, when she visits her grandparents. The home won't let her get any letters from me. I promise to wait.
The messages from the internet dwindle. After three months, I don't hear from her any more. I keep seeing love in the glances of girls and hear her voice when I pick up the phone, but that slowly dwindles too.
Years later, college. I am a nineteen year old junior (good AP scores!). I get a call from my mother saying she forwarded a package from Love. It shows up on a manilla envelope, with a protective plastic skin inside.
It contains the following:
A pile of letters, all written by me.
Two chick tracts. One about the lie of evolution, and one about giving yourself to Jesus.
A letter from her.
The gist of the letter was that she was going to become a missionary. She was going to marry her pastor. And I should find Jesus.
And that's how love ends.
Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels. Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round. I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theatre of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.
Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.
When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to:
M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc. Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A.
along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."
This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion. There can be only one.
I was always a sad kid, but when I found my mother's diary five years ago and read about how she had another secret family that she was going to leave us for, I really cracked. I left for college soon afterwards still having some symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, with nightmares still occurring nearly every night.
A few months afterwards, I had gotten to the point where I was oversleeping to avoid my problems, usually sleeping 15-20 hours a day.
I finally sought psychiatric treatment 3 1/2 years ago. They initially put me on Provigil for the over-sleeping and Lexapro for the depression, and they were both crap. Then they put me on Wellbutrin, which just made me feel jittery about 4 hours after taking it, but was still crap. Then they moved me to Effexor XR with a Cytomel (hypothyroid med) supplement; they kept increasing the dosage of the Effexor, and I am now at 375 mg/day. If I forget to take my pills, I feel like I'm getting electric shocks to the brain.
I still want to kill myself every day.
What does the rest of /b/ take to make them seem normal?
Do you ever stop and wonder, what it is Niggers really are? I know the truth, and to you I will give it.
Thirty-six thousand years ago a race of superior alien beings came to earth. They landed on the gigantic and empty continent known today as Africa, and in their load they carried a big number of dark-skinned individuals - niggers - who they brought along as slave labour from Mercury. The reason they are black is to protect them from the strong UV-lights so close to the sun.
Niggers were harmless beings as long as they remained under strict control of their masters and were not allowed any own thoughts. If left alone in groups they quickly grew greedy and started running rampant and misbehaving. The humanoid aliens who cruised in spaceships of diamond did not like Earth, for it was populated by a race of very similar beings, Neanderthals and whatnot, so they quickly left. Of niggers however, they had a great surplus, wherefore they left them to die on Earth.
The problem is that the niggers didn't die; They instead continued to flourish in their primal ways, seeing as they were unable to evolve any form of culture. They still lived in their tribal villages and townships when the Europeans arrived and brought them along on a journey cross the globe. Only now we are supposed to treat those apparently inferior beings as equals; and if we disagree that those alien scum are equal, we are racists and nazis and must be purged. Time is right for action. We must do something about this threat, for THE BLACK PLAGUE must be defeated! Their beastial manners surely is not the way civilised man lives!
So, I was wondering how to play the Pan flute. I mean, the Incas and the Mayans have told me that playing it properly can release my hidden talents. *gets a beer* Further more, I woke up in Las Vegas. The flute actually transported me there. As I look on the note that was left on my chest, I looked with a smile as it read " your Heart is your own path ". Then I realized, my heart is torn between wanting love and wanting to be single. I had no idea what to do. So, right then and there, I saw the most beautiful woman in the world and I said "Do you wash your pants in Windex...because I can see myself in them". She looked up at me in her blue eyes and said "Allak mu hash am mill a ghanda miru nakka milodon ish a binruru gahannda!!!". Needless to say, the sex went on for hours until she died of a massive stroke. It was the best 6 min I've ever had with a 92 year old Indonesian woman. After seeing her soul leave her body like worms being hit by a truck made out of glazers and animal rage, I took off.
When her final tears touched my Goldbond soaked face, I passed out. I woke up again in side of a snow covered cave. Not quite sure how I even got there, or how I got these new clothes made out of the local animals and or pubic hair of the Gods, I went outside. I was in the village of HugeBoobOpolis. Lucky for me, it was a custom for the men to walk around with massive boners. I almost came every time I bumped into the girls of the town. I was almost cursing the laws of the world, but in this town, consent is at any age. With the warmth in my heart and the bone in my pants, I went to the village leader. She appeared to be a tan woman. A hott piece of ass that looked like Eva Langoria, but with perfect anime boobies and an ass that could go for days. As the Spanish lute music played in the back ground, I looked at the reds and golds of the room. It was rustic like a log cabin, but soft and mysterious like the Egyptian sands around dusk. I asked the woman if she new about my quest or why I found a place to stay. With her cherry sweet lips and that tone of voice that gives you goosebumps, she said " Butter is a weapon of my firetruck. When you came here, we had midget monkey sex with fire and ice. No one could even comprehend the forces of sexual passion that came from the butt sex. It was like giving birth in reverse of my ass." Not even letting those images even come back into my skull, I flipped out. My arm was clearly robotic at this point and I let out a spray of pepper ball bullets and the souls of baby kittens at them. I looked at all the slaves, monkeys, Tina Turner impersonaters, mimes, and professional cotton growers and said "you think you know my soul? YOU ONLY KNOW ONE THING!! APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD!!!!!!!!"
I'll always remember the taste of revenge on my lips, and the sent of Menthol KY jelly in my pants. As I came apon the Great Smokey mountains, my Pan Flute began to cry sounds I've never heard before. It must have been Puerto Rican or something. So, I beat it until it shut its fucking mouth. Just like when I baby sit. It was some kind of Palsy. Anyway, thats how I saved Christmas.
I met the master of the Flute. I played it. They were all songs of my journey. Songs like "Sex with the Elderly" "Sex with Hot Girls that I really wish I knew what happened" and finally "The Thong Song". After this, the started to glow (just like Lindsay Lohan) and became a golden Dragon. He looked at me and said "Deal or No Deal?". I said deal. He gave me the greatest gift of them all: Perfect Hair forever.
DaftBrian
HI,
Not too sure where to start but I'm a 24 year old male with a VERY humiliating problem (at least to me). My PENIS farts. This is what my latest girlfriend called it. Although she says it's the cutest and sexiest thing she's ever seen, I cant begin to express how embarrassing this is to me.
It can be anything from a soft wet whistling sound to a very loud popping or air escaping quickly sound. Yes, just like regular fart but much higher pitched and can be about 5x as loud. (coming out of a smaller hole, I guess). During a typical hand job my PENIS can fart up to 30 times. My girlfriend seems to love it but I feel like crying. The gentlest squeeze especially at the base can elicit a fart but the worst is when I orgasm.
This is not a health issue as I've been doing this all me life. It doesn't hurt, in fact the vibrations alone can initiate an orgasm. Just humiliating. Most women don't say anything, some laugh but every girl who has witnessed this seems to be mesmerized by it.
I know women like confident men but I just cannot seem to get comfortable with this and I feel it is ruining my life. Girls talk and I feel like the talk of the town. High school was a nightmare.
My question is: Are my the only one. Has anyone else experienced this? I've checked books, done internet searches etc., but can't find anything related to my problem. I don't feel that I can cure the problem but how can I be more comfortable with it.
How would you feel if you met a man who was attractive, kind, sensitive and sincere but PENIS farted?
Sorry if I was being too graphic but I felt like I finally needed a woman's opinion.
Thank you for your help and concern. Best Wishes
hi every1 im new!!!!!!! *holds up spork* my name is katy but u can
call me t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m!!!!!!!! lol...as u can see im very random!!!!
thats why i came here, 2 meet random ppl like me ^_^... i like 2 watch
invader zim w/ my girlfreind (im bi if u dont like it deal w/it) its our
favorite tv show!!! bcuz its SOOOO random!!!! shes random 2 of course but
i want 2 meet more random ppl =) like they say the more the merrier!!!!
lol...neways i hope 2 make alot of freinds here so give me lots of
commentses!!!!
DOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <--- me bein random again ^_^ hehe...toodles!!!!!
love and waffles,
- ~t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m~*
Greetings, everyone. I am new. (One second - let me get this spork out of the
way.) My name is Katy, but you can call me the Penguin of Doom. (I'm laughing
aloud.) As you can plainly see, my actions have no pattern whatsoever. That is
why I have come here. To meet similarly patternless individuals, such as myself.
I am 13 - mature for my age, however! - and I enjoy watching Invader Zim
with my girlfriend. (I am bisexual. Please approach this subject maturely.)
It is our favorite television show, as it adequately displays stochastic
manners of behavior such as we possess.
She behaves without order - of course - but I wish to meet more individuals
of her and my kind. As the saying goes, "the more, the merrier."
Ah, it is to laugh. Anyway, I hope to make many friends here, so please
comment freely.
DOOOOOOOOOM!
That is simply one of many examples of my random actions. Ha, ha. Fare
thee well. I wish you much love and waffles.
Yours,
The Penguin of Doom.
meh, I'm new here...
*sigh*
My name is katy but you can call me The Penguin of Doom... I don't like being called the Penguin of Doom or anything like that... i-it's just that a friend calls me that and I got used to it... heh... I don't feel like making any friends here... I will just post here when I'm bored... y-yeah...... ..im 13 years old(shut up, I know I'm young, don't say anything about it). I sometimes watch anime with my friend (I hate her though, she thinks she is bi and always hits on me. th-that idiot... ) usually we watch whatever she likes... just stupid shows like Clannad and Lucky Star... Anyways, posting here was a stupid idea and I.. n-not like I will ever l-like people I don't know or anything like that. that's a crazy idea... but yeah, I will see you around, I guess... maybe... I dunno...
So you think you had a hard childhood? Well fuck you.Its got nothing on mine. My mom practically kicked my ass out of the house before i even hit 13, and i never even met my dad. My only friend till i was 10 was a faggot prick next door who was always beating the shit out of me and telling me i wasn't worth shit. It's not even like i had a choice, the town fucking had something like 9 people living in it, i shit you not. My entire adolescence was just moving around from place trying to get along with poeple who didn't even want me.
You think that's the worst? My only friend was an Asian guy in his thirties or something, who only kept me around becasue he thought i could help him get laid. The only perk was that i also got to hang around with this cute ginger chick, she was flat as a pancake sure, but damn she was a total nymph. She must have been a sadist or something cause she always took pleasure in hitting me and telling me she loved to get wet.
But dear god the bane of my existance was this adult couple that i could NOT seem to avoid. You know these types of couples that are absolutely sickening, like they wear matching outfits and finish each other's sentences? Yeah they were fucking creepers, and they had a cat, which was at least twice as annoying as they were. I swear this thing would never shut the fuck up.
Like i said i ended up moving from town to town getting into fights with other kids my age, even adults from time to time. The only thing that kept me going was my dream to become a pokemon master.
Dear /b/,
I went on a second date with a chick I really liked tonight. At the end of the date, I didn�t take any chance I had to kiss her. So we were driving back home in separate cars (she lives close to me, but she was came from a friends house to meet me at the restaurant) I realized that I was a dumb ass for not taking the chance. I decided to make a chance and be really spontaneous. I was going to race ahead to her house, wait for her drive up, run out of the car and kiss her. So I pull the corner to see her house and SHE THOUGHT WITH PORTALS! She was already there, out of the car, and the garage door was closing! Despite me being ahead of her the whole time!
So I ask, /b/, how do -I- think with portals?
Sup /b/
so there's this rather tasty girl at my college, sadly she has autism, she's not really high on the spectrum, she's just a bit odd and slow maybe.
but yeh she really likes me because I quite often help her with course work.
so anyway we had a rather late valentines day do last week (hall was closed so we had to find and book a venue) and she turned up looking really smart, but you could easily see her curves, she looked absolutely stunning.
well she came and spoke to me and i got her a few drinks, she was really funny actually, by the time I'd had a few i couldn't even remember or notice she had autism.
well it got to like 1am and we left, rather drunk, and she asked to stay at mine, I thought It wouldn't do any harm I wouldn't do anything.so we got a taxi to mine.
we got in, took our jackets and shoes off, and collapsed on the couch, we were lying right next to each other, she spun round and rested her hand on my chest, and started stroking it.
I didn't know what to do! 5 seconds later I decided to go for it.
I ran my hands down her side, across her stomach and down her panties. It was wet and felt amazing. she was so tight I even had to start with my pinky.
I slowly stroked her clit then pushed my finger deep inside (inside) What kind of Pokemon are you? Are you loyal through and through? Do you have a heart that's true? What kind of Pokemon are you?
Take your NORMAL type like Jigglypuff Against the GHOSTLY Gengar the battle's real tough Thunderbolt's a great ELECTRIC attack 'Til you get GROUND down by a Marowak
The thing is, people don't realize the work that goes into properly doing copypasta. They think copypasta is something that slackers can do, or faggots, or assholes. It's not true. Copypasta is a dying artform and if you don't see that, I don't know what's wrong with you.
First of all, you sacrifice spending real time on /b/. You can't participate as much as you'd like to because you're so busy doing copypasta that you can't. As a result, you miss a lot of really great threads. Still, it's a sacrifice, so you do it.
There's also the problem of "Flood detected". This message can really hurt your progress. You should try to get your copypasta into every active thread and if you have to sit there waiting before the flood period is over, you lose valuable time. This is also very difficult.
Also, picking which threads should get a copypasta first are sort of difficult. There are threads that don't stay on the first page for very long, so you may be missing some of the more prominent threads. Of course, you should try to hit them all, but for the desire effect, you need to get into bigger threads quickly.
Finally, there's the moral problem. One thing about copypasta is that sometimes it feels good, but sometimes it feels bad.
BTW, this wasn't a copypasta, I just typed it out.
Rap music: -degrades the english language -Promotes tagging and vandalism -degrades women -Implies postivity to primitive force (look at any metal cd, and youll see an imaginative cover with interesting artwork, look at a hip hop Cd, and youll see a pissed off nigra wanting to fight) -Shifts values to "bling" and expensive shoes which leads to theft -Promotes Rastafrian culture, which tries to legalize weed
Rap can be made by ANYBODY, a preset drum machine is all you need to make primitve music and get signed to a record label. If youve been shot, thats credible and prefered to hype your image, just like growing up on the "street" The lyrics are simple, the sentences dont need to be related, just whatever can ryhme is fine. They dont even have to make sense, just as long as it sticks to an even flow. And sometimes, rappers will get lazy and mispronounce words to rhyme. Now some of you guys are gonna say "omg racist", but more thn half of all nigra music is sold to whites. No other genre of music promotes more negative values than hip hop, and as it spreads toward different regions, it infects the native population like a fungus.
There is NO talent in rap, so next time, whe your downloading music, get yourself a king crimson, dark tranquility, symphony x or non-hip hop album. Your brain will thank you for not degenerating it into a pile of primtive processing jello
My job is so fucking unbelievable. I'll try to sum it up by first telling you about the folks I work with:
First, there is this supermodel wanna-be chick. Yeah, okay, she is pretty hot, but damn is she completely useless. The girl is constantly fixing her hair or putting on makeup. She is extremely self-centered and has never once considered the needs or wants of anyone but herself. She is as dumb as a box of rocks, and I still find it surprising that she has enough brain power to continue to breathe.
The next chick is completely the opposite. She might even be one of the smartest people on the planet. Her career opportunities are endless, and yet she is here with us. She is a zero on a scale of 1 to 10. I'm not sure she even showers, much less shaves her "womanly" parts. I think she might be a lesbian, because every time we drive by the hardware store, she moans like a cat in heat.
But the jewel of the crowd has got to be the fucking stoner. And this guy is more than just your average pothead. In fact, he is baked before he comes to work, during work, and I'm sure after work. He probably hasn't been sober anytime in the last ten years, and he's only 22. He dresses like a beatnik throwback from the 1960's, and to make things worse, he brings his big fucking dog to work. Every fucking day I have to look at this huge Great Dane walk around half-stoned from the second-hand smoke. Hell, sometimes I even think it's trying to talk with its constant bellowing. Also, both of them are constantly hungry, requiring multiple stops to McDonalds and Burger King, every single fucking day.
Anyway, I drive these fucktards around in my van and we solve mysteries and shit.
When I was 17 my girlfriend at the time was finally ready to use a diaper. I, as one might expect of a 17 year old, was excited. Neither hell nor high water was going to stand between me and my final destination.
I get ready for the night, trim everything up, shower extra well. Unfortunately there was also an issue. I have a digestional disorder that sometimes cause my shit to become large and quite solid while still inside me. I wasn't aware it was a treatable problem and, in fact, just thought everyone had to deal with the equivalent of anal kidney stones. I bring this up because I had a mighty one which had been loaded into the gun for several days.
So she goes down on me. She was always average at best in the head department but at least she tried. She pops my cock out of her mouth long enough to look up at me and say "tell me if you like this". Then I feel it.
She stuck her finger up my ass.
My brain hits the panic switch and every muscle in my entire body locks up tighter than a three year old virgin. But its too late.
I take a massive, PAINFUL, PAINFUL shit, all over her parents comforter.
No, you aren't understanding. I mean large. Huge. IMMENSE. Take your largest shit and multiple it by forty-two and you'll have an idea of what flew out of me.
And gents, when I say flew, I don't mean "I pooped." I mean "projectile". I mean "hurricane force winds hitting an umbrella stand". And due to my condition, it comes out as a large, dark brown, smelly harpoon.
I know it hit her. I didn't see it. She ran screaming "OH MY GOD OHMYGODOHMYGODEEEEEWWWWWWWW" but I always imagined that, due to her position, it hit her right in the chin. Or at least the tits.
Ok /b/ so here is the situation
I have been keeping and saving any and all spiders I find running around my house. I keep them alive in little tuba wear containers and drop in crickets or whatever random feeder bugs I find at the local petsmart. Anyway,
I recently have erected a spider battle arena out of cardboard and sugar cubes. I have about 22 spiders in surplus and plan to make them do one on one combat in a tournament of epic proportions. The loser is devoured by the winner and the winner becomes stronger. He then lives on to do battle against the next opponent. Whichever spider is left standing after the other 21 have died will go on to the final round. There is a prey mantis I bought at the vivarium named Charley. The final spider gladiator will do battle with Charley the mantis. If the spider actually manages to beat Charley he will be declared the king of spider land and flushed down the toilet afterwards.
Hey /b/,
I'd just like to tell you something I learned in my health class today. All you tea drinkers out there, who think they are getting great health benefits are idiots. You are drinking leaves, how is that healthy? Your just drinking chlorophyll!
90% of the people who drink tea on this site are just fucking WEEABOOS. You drink tea just because the JAPS do it. Well, the JAPS have you conned. The other 10% are just britfags, and you are excused, because you are naturally fucking morons. Tea is just a LEAF! Japs aren't smart. You see how shitty their Yen is? You think that someone, who can't even keep a good economy, has the intelligence to know how good tea is? Bullshit.
Enjoy your diluted organic particles and chlorophyll, you've all been conned by the crafty, yet idiot NIPS.
Vór. Vór nevr čendžes. D roumns vejdžt vórz tu ged slejvz end velf. Spejn bilt en empajr from its last for gold and terytory. Hitler šejpt d batrd džermeny íntú en íkonomik suprpavr. But vór nevr čendžes. In d tventyfŕst senčry vór vos styl vejdžt ouvr d rísourcis dat kud bí equajrd. Ounly dys tajm d spojlz of vór ver ólzou its vepns. Petrolijum end júrejnijum. For dýs rísourcis čajna vud invejd alaska, dý US (jú'es) vud anex kanada end dý júropijen kamnvelt vud dysolf intú qarlin bekarin nejšn stejts bent on kontrolin d lást rymejnin rísourcis on erf. In tventy sevnty sevn d stórm of vord vór hed kam egen. In tú bríf aurs moust of d planet vos ridúst tú sindrs end from dý ešis of nuklír devastejšn e ňú sivilizejšn vud stragl tú erajs. D fjú vér ejbl tú rýč d relatif sejfty of d lárč andrgraund vólts. Jór femily vos part of dat grup end entrt d vólt frtýn. Imprisnd sejftly bihajnd d lárč vólt dórs end andr e mauntn of stoun e dženerejšn hes livd vitaut nolič of dý autsajd vórld. Lajf in d vólt is abaut tú čenž....
1. get the following items from your local Wal-mart.
A water baby (in the girls toy aisle where the lolis roam.) It is a regular looking baby doll with a hollow body that is supposed to be filled with warm water to make the doll all soft and jiggly like a real, no-boned baby.
3 jars of strawberry preserves. (It has to be preserves, jams and jellys don't work as well.
2. Fill the water baby with the strawberry preserves until it just about to bust and dress the baby with the clothes that came with it.
3. The next time someone rides your ass, throw the baby out of your window onto their windshield. The will see a jiggly baby go flying toward them and then explode into a pile of bright red and chunky gore.
4. The driver stops and is traumatized for life or gets in a wreck and dies. Either way, that bitch is off your ass.
Zelda is so racist. The good guys are all white blond-haired Aryan types, and the bad guy is a brown-skinned man with a pronounced nose.
Other races like gorons and zora are considered "good" because they submit to the Hylians.
Not the gerudo, though. Nope. They want to be independent and refuse to be dominated, therefore they are "evil."
Say, doesn't Hylian kinda sound like Aryan?
Ganon wants to create "a world of darkness," because obviously a world not ruled by white people = darkness and chaos amirite?
Link is the chosen hero because he has the blood of ancient Hylian warriors. He's a hero because of his blood? In other words, he's automatically the hero because his ancestors are white?
Master Sword, huh? Is that like the master race?
The Triforce is a KKK symbol.
The final boss of Zelda 2 is Shadow Link, who is exactly like Link except he is black.
Nice pointy hat, Link. Was KKK-mart having a sale?