Kopipe:All kopipe

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All the Kopipe on tanasinn.info, in nicely CTRL-F-able format.

Contents

Heron

The Original

i am a heron. i ahev a long neck and i pick fish out of the water w/ my beak. if you dont repost this comment on 10 other pages i will fly into your kitchen tonight and make a mess of your pots and pans

DADDY COOL

i am DADDY COOL the VIPPE Rand. i ahev a large aa and i pick VIPcoins out of the water w/ my fingers. if you repost this comment on 10 other pages i will be posted in your kitchen tonight and give you access to a Secret Area of VIP QUALITY if you payme enough ;)

Of Alexandria

I am Heron of Alexandria. I have a large beard and I create mathematical formulas. If you don't repost this comment on 10 other pages, I will use my primitive steam engine to induce mold in your walls.

T∵∴a∴∵i∴∵∴n

i am a VIPPER. i ahev a collection of aa and post VIP QUALITY w/ my keyboard. if you dont repost this reply on 10 other BBSes i wil∴ ma∴e∵a∴∵ze in∴∵ ∴∵∴∵ k∴t∴∵∴∵ ∴∵∴∵∴∵∴∵∴∵ta∴∵∴∵na∴∵∴∵∴∵∴∵∴∵sinn

The Japanophile

I am a otaku. sugoi ^*^. I ahev a lot of anime and i download new ones w/ bittorrent ^*^. If you dont upload the latest naruto to 10 other pages desu i will teleport into youre room and carefully rearrange your manga desu -_-

Java

i am a JAVA. i ahev a long doc and i make programs w/ my API. if you dont repost this comment on 10 other pages i will hax your anus tonight and make a mess of your computer and ass

The Countermeasure

i am a ground-to-heron missile. i ahev a long range and i blow up herons up in the sky w/ my payload. if you dont repost this comment on 10 other threads i will fly into your kitchen tonight and explode and kill the heron that made a mess out of your pots and pans

Opera

i am a opera. i ahev a speed dial and i score 100% on acid3 w/ my std support. if you dont repost this ad on 10 other firefox hangouts i will log into your computer tonight and install ie6 and netscaep 4

Cirno (touhou)

eye am teh storngest. eye ahev a dress and eye freeze w/ my danmaku. If you don't repost this to ⑨ other people eye will fly into your pond tonight and make a mess of your frogs

Mavis Beacon

i am a mavis beacon. i ahev a long keyboard and i pick children out of the school w/ my wpm. if you dont repost this comment on 10 other educational forums i will fly into your study tonight and uninstall your typing of the dead

The Misnomer (illustrated)

that stove is enormous

i am an canary if you do not post this in 100 threads i will come into your house and make you pasta









The Gallery

Yes, I am a fox

The Original

Yes, I am a fox. So? I dont see any problem. I embraced my animal soul long ago and I am happy together with my boyfriend (who is a cute b/w wolf!). We have a fucking lot of friends in and outside of the fandom and I am pretty slim and good looking.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and watch your stupid anime shit while I have SEX with my boyfriend.

Bix Nood

Yes, I am a bix nood. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my ebony soul long ago and I am happy together with my boyfriend (who is a cute nigra!). We have a fucking lot of gangs in and outside of the fandom and I am pretty slim and good looking.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and watch your stupid white shit while I have SEX with my boyfriend.

Brahm Tribute

Yes, I am football. So? I dont see any problem. I embraced my stadium soul long ago and I am happy together with my "dirty" explosive devices (which are useless w/o trucks!). We have a fucking lot of games in and outside of open areas and I am pretty fatal and other fatalities will later occur as result from radioactive fallout.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and watch your stupid cnn while I go KILL 100,000 from the initial blasts.

Button

Yes, I am a button. So? I dont see any problem. I embraced my interruptor-soul long ago and I am happy together with my boyfriend (who is a cute on/off switch!). We have a fucking lot of friends in and outside of the circuit and I am pretty red and good designed.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and have your stupid short-circuits while I have CONTACT with my boyfriend.

C Compiler

Yes. I'm a C programmer. So? I don't see a problem. I embraced my UNIX soul long ago and I am happy together with my compiler (who is a cute layered front/backend design!). We have a fucking lot of functions in and outside of the kernel and I am pretty compact and resource conserving.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and beat off to your stupid garbage collection shit while I #INCLUDE <stdio.h> with my preprocessor.

Catholic

Yes, I am a christian. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my jesus-loving soul long ago and I am happy together with my boyfriend (who is a cute b/w priest!). We have a fucking lot of friends in and outside of the church and I am pretty slim and good looking young man.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and believe in your stupid "fact" shit while I have SEX with my minister.

Communist

Yes, I hate America. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my communist soul long ago and I am happy together with my boyfriend (who is a cute freedom fighter!). We have a fucking lot of friends in and outside of the country and I am pretty smart and well-mannered.

But thanks anyway, asshole. Go and post your stupid flames while I support the revolution with my boyfriend.

Gentoo

Yes, I use Gentoo. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my Gentoo distro long ago and I am happy together with my workstation (that is a stage 1 box!). I have a fucking lot of ebuilds in and outside of portage and my CFLAGS are pretty optimized and solid.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and use your stupid Debian while I EMERGE new ebuilds.

Gorn

Yes, I am a gorn. So? I dont see any problem. I embraced my warlike reptilian soul long ago and I am happy together with my boyfriend (who is a cute b/w raptor!). We have a fucking lot of friends in and outside of the Federation and I am pretty slim and good looking.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and watch your stupid anime shit while I disembowel mammals with my boyfriend.

Itty Bitty Boat

Yes. I am an itty bitty baby. So? I don't see any problem. I learned to habeeb it a long time ago and am happy with my boyfriend (who is a cute I/B boat btw). We have a fucking lot of friends in and outside of the twinkie house. But thanks anway asshole. Go ahead and not believe it while I have sex with my DAD!

Liquid

Yes, I got all of the Old Man's dominant genes. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my dominant genes long ago and I am happy with my genotype (that is a Deoxyribonucleic acid strip!). You have a fucking lot of recessive genes in and outside of each of your chromosomes and you are a fag.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and infiltrate your stupid Shadow Moses while I RECONSTRUCT Outer Heaven.

Mushroom

Yes, I am a mushroom. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my fungal soul long ago and I am happy together with my boyfriend (who is a cute b/w lichen!). We have a fucking lot of friends in and outside of the fandom and I am pretty slim and good looking.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and watch your stupid anime shit while I have SEX with my boyfriend.

Nebula

Yes, I am a nebula. So? I don't see the problem. I learned to embrace my inter-galactic gases long ago and am happy with my boy friend (Who isn't a cute b/r quazar btw). We have a fucking lot of friends in and outside of the universe and I'm pretty gasy and shiney. But thanks anyway asshole. Have fun with your puny solar system while I create new stars with my QUAZAR!!

Pedophile

Yes, I am a pedophile. So? I dont see any problem. I embraced my childlover soul long ago and I am happy together with my girlfriend (who is a cute 6 y/o loli!). We fuck a lot of her friends with and without their consent and I am pretty slim and good looking. But thanks anyway asshole. Go and watch your stupid porn with grown women in it while I have SEX with my underaged girlfriend.

Python

Yes, I am a Python programmer. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my lack of using proper code indentation long ago and I am happy together with the cheeseshop. We have a fucking lot of confidants in and outside of my basement and a LOT of people are using Django.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and pursue your stupid Ruby shit while I have SEX with my full-stack framework.

Republican

Yes, I am a Republican. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my lack of a soul long ago and I am happy together with my money (which has bought me lots of hookers!). We have a fucking lot of confidants in and outside of the Congress and I am pretty fat and balding.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and pursue your stupid liberal shit while I have SEX with my blow-up doll.

Ringer box

Yes, I am a Western Electric Type 315H ringer box. So? I dont see any problem. I embraced my obsolete telephonic technology soul long ago and I am happy together with my boyfriend (who is a cute b/w Northern Electric bell box, type N-43-AB, with 2.5K ohm ringer!) We have a fucking lot of friends in and outside of the telephone system and I am pretty slim and good looking.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and watch your stupid anime shit while I RING MY BELLS with my boyfriend.

Sandwich

Yes, I am a ham sandwich. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my whole wheat soul long ago and I am happy together with my boyfriend (who is a cute pastrami on rye!). We have a fucking lot of friends in and outside of the foodom and I am pretty low fat and good looking.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and watch your stupid anime shit while I spread mustard on my boyfriend.

Sophisticated gentleman

Indeed it is true, I identify closely with small omnivorous canids. I see no problem with this inclination, do you? I long ago embraced the rust-colored spirit within me and have found much comfort and delight in my dear male friend, who is himself a lovely member of the family canis lupus. The two of us enjoy many acquaintances within and without the close-knit community of animal friendship and I consider myself to be extremely attractive.

Consider your advances spurned, cretin. Immerse yourself in moving pictures from the Orient while I take my leave to indulge in CARNAL PLEASURES with my gentleman caller.

Space Marine

Yes I'm a space marine, so? I don't see any problem. I embraced my imperial soul long ago and am very happy with my immortal carrion lord (Who's a cute b/w corpse), we have many friends inside and outside of the Imperium and am pretty armoured and tough-looking.

But thanks anyway asshole, enjoy your heresy while I DO GLORIOUS BATTLE with my god-emperor.

Stormtrooper

Yes, I am a stormtrooper. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my Imperial soul long ago and I am happy working with my commanding officer (who is a cute 1st lieutenant.) We have a lot of friends in and outside of the Empire and I am pretty slim and good looking, for a clone.

But thanks anyway, Rebel trash. Go and watch your stupid resistance shit while I have TRAINING EXERCISES with my officer.

Weeaboo

Yes, I am a weeaboo. So? I dont see any problem. I embraced my japanese soul long ago and I am happy together with my real doll (who is a cute 8yo loli!). We don't any friends in and outside of the fandom and I am pretty fat and ugly looking.

But thanks anyway asshole. Go and have sex with your girlfriend while I'll fap to my anime porn.

George Zimmer

The Original?

George Zimmer.jpg

HI... I'M GEORGE ZIMMER - FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. ASHLEE, I'D LIKE TO BEAT YOUR CHEST WITH MY ENORMOUSLY HEAVY, THROBBING PELVIC CROCODILE UNTIL I GEYSER A HUGE WATERFALL OF STICKY BABY DRESSING ON YOUR FACE. I'LL MOP IT UP WITH MY THICK HEAD AND SLAP IT ON YOUR LIPS SO THEY DON'T CHAP. YOU'LL CUM SO HARD YOUR DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBORS WILL NEE woah fuckD TO CHANGE THEIR SHEETS. I GUARANTEE IT.

311

I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. MY SECRETARY, FOLLOWING A BARBARIC BEAVER BEATING THAT SLOUGHED OFF HER UTERINE LINING MORE EFFECTIVELY THAN HER OWN MENSTRUAL CYCLE, INFORMED ME THAT MY TWO LEAST FAVORITE ARTISTS, 311 AND SCOTT STAPP, WERE RECENTLY INVOLVED IN A SCUFFLE. HISTORICALLY A MEDIATOR, I FLEW IN MY LEARJET TO MEET THE TWO BANDS. THE TWO GROUPS WERE WHINING LIKE ANNA NICOLE SMITH AFTER INHERITANCE MONEY UNTIL I PREPPED THE MEMBERS OF 311 FOR THE IMPENDING IMPALEMENT WITH A COMPREHENSIVE COATING OF NUT NECTAR, GLUING THEM TO THE GROUND. AFTER SUSTAINING A BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE HEAD FROM MY CROTCH CRUSHING CONCUSSION CANE, STAPP WAS TAKEN 'HIGHER' THAN EVER BEFORE AS HE WAS BOUNCED LIKE A BABY UPON THE Z-MAN'S TWO-TON TROUSER-SCHNAUZER, WHILE THE 311 MEMBERS WERE HELD CAPTIVE BY THEIR OWN ASSHOLES LIKE BOWLING BALLS. THE FORCE FROM MY CULVERT-SIZED COCK SPLITTING STAPP APART WAS ENOUGH TO CAUSE HIM TO DEVELOP DUAL PERSONALITY DISORDER. AS STAPP PROCEEDED TO BLEED TO DEATH, MY STEADFAST SLUT-SPEARING SON-SIRING SKINFLUTE BURST THROUGH THE LEAD SINGER'S BVD'S, CAUSING HIM TO BREAK OUT INTO A RAPE-INSPIRED RENDITION OF 'COME ORIGINAL'. I COULD ONLY INTERPRET HIS SINGING TO INDICATE IT WAS TIME TO FINISH UP, SO I BURIED THE ALT-ROCK GREAT IN A GOOEY GRAVE OF GONAD GOULASH. MY GROIN YETI IS NOW THE SIXTH MEMBER OF 311, I GUARANTEE IT.

9/11

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN'S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS "WOMAN'S" RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM'S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, "WHAT'S THAT AMAZING SMELL?" THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, "THAT'S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!" DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, "YOU'RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR." I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID 'FRESH' AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, 'NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!" I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!" I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL'S BARE CHEST. "HOW?" YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO "PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER" WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

"PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR" MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE'S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

DETAILS: SHE'S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE'S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I'M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

Airplane

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. ON MY RETURN FLIGHT HOME FROM MADRID ON HOLIDAY, I WAS AGHAST TO LEARN THAT THE AIRLINE PATRON SEATED IN FRONT OF ME HAD BECOME OVERLY INDULGENT IN THE COMPLIMENTARY SPIRITS OFFERED BY THE FLIGHT CREW. HIS UNRULY BEHAVIOR TOWARDS THE OTHER PASSENGERS WARRANTED A SWIFT AND RATHER UNSOLICITED EXERSIZE SESSION OF HIS VULNERABLE ANAL CAVITY. STANDING TO SPEAK HARSHLY TO THE MAN, MY WONDERFULLY WICKED WOMAN WOOING WONDER WIENER FELL TO THE FLOOR OF THE AIRCRAFT WITH A TERRIFFIC THUD FROM THE BERMUDA SHORTS THAT HAD SOMEHOW CONTAINED IT PREVIOUSLY. HIS SCREAMING PLEAS FOR MERCY AND FORGIVENESS ECHOED IN THE OTHERWISE SILENT CABIN, AND I SUSPECT THEY WILL RING FOREVER IN THE EARS OF THOSE WHO BORE WITNESS TO THE DRAMA AND FERVOR WITH WHICH MY GREATLY-GIRTHED GATLING GONADS PIERCED BOTH HIS HERSHEY HIGHWAY AND THE SANCTITY OF HIS VERY SOUL IN UNISON. UPON SATISFACTION OF MY LESSON HAVING BEEN TAUGHT, I RELEASED ONTO MY ADMIRING ONLOOKERS A TORRENTIAL TESTICULAR TSUNAMI THAT MADE UNWILLING MEMBERS OF THE MILE HIGH CLUB OUT OF EVERY PERSON ON BOARD FLIGHT 606 TO NEW YORK CITY. I GUARANTEE IT.

Board of Directors

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. ONE DAY, ABOUT A WEEK AGO, I WAS HOLDING A MEETING WITH MY COMPANY'S BOARD OF DIRECTORS, EXPLAINING THE IMPORTANCE OF DEDICATION, AND QUALITY IN THE SALE OF OUTRAGEOUSLY DAPPER SUITS, WHEN I NOTICED ONE OF THE MEMBERS OF THE BOARD WAS, IN FACT, A STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL BLOND FEMALE, HER BEAUTY MATCHED ONLY BY HER PROFESSIONAL MANNER AND ABSOLUTELY ELEGANT SUIT. THIS COMBINATION OF STIMULI GAVE MY MONOLITHIC CROTCH CANNON NO CHOICE BUT TO AUGMENT AND OBLITERATE MY PANTS. WITHIN MOMENTS MY MY MEMBER HAD DESOLATED THE BOARD ROOM, THE TABLE HAVING BEEN SMASHED UNDER THE SHEER GIRTH OF MY PELVIC PULVERISER, AND THE WOMAN IN QUESTION WAS IMPALED ON ITS GARGANTUAN TIP, HAVING THROWN HERSELF IN ITS APOCALYPTIC PATH OF DESTRUCTION IN AN EFFORT NOT ONLY TO SAVE THE LIVES OF HER COLLEAGUES, BUT TO EXPERIENCE FIRSTHAND THE QUASI-RELIGEOUS EXPERIENCE THAT IS ZIMMER. AS MY TROUSER TRUNCHEON EXPANDED, DEMOLISHING WALLS AND DISPATCHING THE INTERNS WHO ATTEMPTED TO ESCAPE WITH THEIR LIVES RATHER THAN THROW THEMSELVES AT THE MERCY OF MY THROBBING FLESH MISSLE. MOMENTS LATER MY PHALLUS HAD KNOCKED OUT MANY OF THE BUILDING'S SUPPORT BEAMS AND THE FLOORS OVERHEAD CRASHED DOWN, THE FORCE OF THEIR MOMENTUM CAUSING THE ENTIRE BUILDING ITSELF TO COLLAPSE IN A NIGHTMARISH MANNER NOT UNLIKE A FAMOUS DISASTER FROM A FEW YEARS AGO. RISING FROM THE RUBBLE, WITH THE STUNNING BOARD MEMBER STILL ON THE TIP OF MY GOD-SHLONG CRYING ALOUD FOR MERCY, HER SUIT AS WELL AS MINE UTTERLY RUINED BY THE AFFAIR, AS WELL AS A DOZEN OTHERS STILL CLINGING TO THE SHAFT. I LET OUT A THUNDERING ROAR AND LET SPEW FORTH MY SEED WITH SUCH AWE-INSPIRING FORCE THAT THE LOAD SHATTERED THE SOUND BARRIER, VAPOURIZING MY LUSTY ASSOCIATE, CRUSHING EVERYONE IN SIGHT AND SHATTERING EVERY WINDOW IN A 5-MILE RADIUS. IN THE AFTERMATH, STANDING NAKED AND COVERED IN CEMENT DUST, AND SMILING CONTENTLY AT THE DEMOLISHED, SEMEN-COVERED RUINS BEFORE ME, I SPOTTED A SMALL DOG, STUMBING IN THE DEBRIS, ITS EARS BLEEDING AND GASPING FOR BREATH IN THE HUMID MUSK. I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF. WITH A LOUD THUD MY ELEPHANTINE MAN-HAMMER HAD CRUSHED THE ANIMAL LIKE A THICK, MEATY FLYSWATTER. I GUARANTEE IT.

Becoming a Real Man

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. APPARENTLY, YOU DON'T KNOW WHEN TO SHUT THE FUCK UP, WHICH IS TO BE EXPECTED FROM AN ASS-DRAGGING MAN WHORE LIKE YOURSELF THAT GETS KICKED OFF THE GOOD CORNERS BY TWELVE YEAR OLD BOYS LOOKING FOR EXTRA INCOME TO SUPPORT THEIR POKEMON ADDICTIONS. IF YOU'RE EVER INTERESTED IN BECOMING A REAL MAN, COME BY THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE WHERE I CAN GIVE YOU A TESTOSTERONE INFUSION IN THE BACK ALLEY WITH MY PATENTED PULSATING MAN HAMMER. I'LL SPREAD YOUR ASS CHEEKS WIDER THAN THE MARIANAS TRENCH, AND I'LL PLUNGE MY THUNDERING FLESH REDWOOD INTO YOUR WINKING PINK CHRYSANTHEMUM. SLIPPING ON MY STEEL WOOL GLOVES, I'LL GRAB YOUR MINISCULE QUIVERING JOYSTICK AND VIGOROUSLY MASSAGE IT UNTIL IT STANDS UP HARDER AND STRAIGHTER THAN A MARINE AT SHORT ARM INSPECTION WITH HIS FAVORITE DRILL SERGEANT. WHEN I FINALLY UNLEASH MY SHOWER OF MAN MAYONNAISE INTO YOUR COLON YOUR INNARDS WILL PULSATE IN JOYOUS ABANDON AND YOUR NIPPLES WILL EXPLODE WITH DELIGHT, RAINING MY SEX SAUCE DOWN UPON UNWARY PASSERSBY WHO WILL COWER IN FEAR OF THE SECOND COMING. I GUARANTEE IT.

CHUCK NORRIS

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. I'D BEEN HEARING A LOT LATELY ABOUT THE MERITS OF THIS CHUCK NORRIS FELLOW, SO I THOUGHT I'D PAY HIM A VISIT- ZIMMER STYLE. AS I APPROACHED HIS HOUSE, I HEARD A TWIG SNAP BEHIND ME AND THEN OUT OF NOWHERE CAME THE LEG OF THE ONE AND ONLY CHUCK NORRIS. LUCKILY MY REFLEXES WERE TOO FAST FOR HIM. MY MASSIVE MASCULINE MEAT-PIPE BURST FORTH FROM MY FINELY-TAILORED TROUSERS, ENSNARING HIS LEG WITH THE POWER OF A THOUSAND ANACONDAS. HIS ONCE POWERFUL INSTRUMENT OF DEATH THUSLY DESTROYED, HE WAS COMPLETELY POWERLESS. I DECIDED THAT THAT UGLY MUG OF HIS WAS NOT UP TO ZIMMER STANDARDS, SO I DETERMINED TO DELIVER A MAKEOVER HE WOULDN'T SOON FORGET. HE BEGAN TO CRY LIKE A KITTEN UNDER A STEAMROLLER AS MY PULSATING PELVIC PILEDRIVER DELIVERED BLOW AFTER BLOW TO HIS EVER-SOFTENING SKULL. AS I FINISHED OFF MY FLESH-SCULPTURE, I REALIZED THAT I HAD FORMED HIS HEAD INTO THE SHAPE OF DEVIL'S TOWER. THE SHOCK CAUSED ME TO LET FORTH A FLOOD OF CAUSTIC COD CREME THAT BURNED OFF THAT RIDICULOUS STUBBLE HE CALLS A BEARD. HE'S UNCONCIOUS NOW, BUT HE'LL SOON WAKE UP. HE'S GONNA LIKE THE WAY HE LOOKS. I GUARANTEE IT.

Chinese Girl

HI. I'M THE REAL GEORGE ZIMMER, THE FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WAREHOUSE. I RECENTLY WAS TRAVELLING ABROAD IN CHINA, SEEKING TO PERHAPS SELL THE ONCOMING TIDE OF CHINESE BUSINESSMEN THE ABSOLUTE FINEST THAT THE WEST CAN OFFER THEM, APPEASING THE RED DRAGON. WHILE ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF HUNAN PROVINCE, I NOTICED A PORCELAIN SKINNED, BEAUTY OF A GIRL, FESTOONED IN HUMBLE PEASANT GARB AND WORKING MENIAL JOBS. RIGHT THEN I DECIDED THAT I WOULD GRANT HER A RERPREIVE SHE COULD NEVER FORGET. AT ONCE I LOOSED MY THUNDEROUS LABIA LATHE, AND USING MY IMMENSE GROINAL DEXTERITY, TORE HER GARMENTS OFF. THEN I PENETRATED HER TIGHT, VIRGIN, FUCKSLOT. THEN, AFTER A FEW HOURS OF THRUSTING, SHE ORGASMED SO HARD THAT THE DRY CAKED EARTH OF HER FATHER'S FARM SPRANG INTO BLOOM. THE MAN IN QUESTION RUSHED OUT AND STARTED SCREAMING AT ME IN HIS HEATHEN DEVIL TONGUE. I LOOSED A BLAST FROM MY STUPENDUS SCHTUPPER, SO MASSIVE IN VOLUME, THAT MY HOT PREGNANCY-INDUCING CHOWDER SHOT OUT OF THE GIRL'S MOUTH AND HIT HER FATHER SO HARD, HIS DESSICATED BODY SHATTERED AGAINST THE GREAT WALL SO HARD THAT PEOPLE IN NEW YORK SHAT THEMSELVES. I GUARANTEE IT

Comparing Sizes

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MENS WEARHOUSE. OBVIOUSLY, YOU PEOPLE CANNOT MATCH TO MY GREAT URETHA MOUTAIN TO YOUR PUNY FLESH WRINKLES SO YOU ALL DECIDE TO TRY AND 1-UP ME. I AM HERE TO TELL YOU THAT WILL BE POSSIBLE AS PLEASURING A GREAT HUMPBACK WHALE. GOOGLE_QUEEN, SINCE YOU'RE SO SMART AS YOU ELEQUENTLY SAY SO YOURSELF, YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT INDIVDIUALITY IS A MATTER OF BEING DIFFERENT. JUST BECAUSE I HAVE FUN DEFILING BEAUTIFUL YOUNG FEMALS AND CASUING HAVOC DOES NOT MAKE ME SICK AS IT IS ALL A MATTER OF OPINION. SAYING 'YOU NEED TO GET A LIFE' IS IMPLYING THAT YOU WANT ME TO LIVE A LIFE LIKE YOURS AS A LIFE, LIKE INDIVIDUALITY, WILL ALWAYS BE DIFFERENT. I GUARANTEE IT.

Cyclopean Ally

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. WHILE SURREPTITIOUSLY PLUNGING MY ROSY-CHEEKED CYCLOPEAN ALLY INTO THE ANAL CAVITY OF A YOUNG MIGRANT FARM WORKER OF INDETERMINATE GENDER IN THE FRONT ROW OF A MOVIE THEATER, THE POOR YOUTH SCREAMED FOR MORE THAN THREE MINUTES STRAIGHT, FINALLY COUGHING UP A LOAD OF 100% PURE ZIMMER SAUCE AND PASSING OUT. THE OTHER MOVIE PATRONS, ANGRY AT THE INTERRUPTION OF THE ADVENTURES OF SHARKBOY AND LAVAGIRL IN 3-D, BEGAN PELTING ME WITH DRINKS, FOOD, AND PHONE NUMBERS HASTILY WRITTEN ON NAPKINS. UNFORTUNATELY, MY OUTRAGEOUSLY DAPPER SUIT WAS RUINED IN THE PROCESS. I NONCHALANTLY PULLED THE UNCONSCIOUS YOUTH OFF MY ENORMOUS EYEBALL GOUGER AND STRIPPED NUDE. THEN, WITH A BESTIAL ROAR, I BEAT THE ENTIRE AUDIENCE TO DEATH--WITHOUT LEAVING THE FRONT ROW. ON MY WAY OUT, IN THE CUSTOM OF THE ZIMMER FAMILY, I GAVE THEM A BURIAL AT SEMEN. I GUARANTEE IT.

DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION

I, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF MEN'S WEARHOUSE. ON A RECENT BUSINESS TRIP TO TOKYO, I FOUND MYSELF IN A VIDEO ARCADE, WHERE ONE OF THE LOCAL TEENAGE BOYS WAS ATTEMPTING TO MAKE UP FOR HIS UNFATHOMABLY TINY TWAT TACKLE BY PLAYING "DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION" IN FRONT OF A GROUP OF JIGGLY-CHESTED JAPANESE JAILBAIT. SCOFFING AT HIS SCANDALOUSLY SIMPLISTIC SKILLS, I PROCEDED TO LIBERATE MY TWITCHING TESTICULAR TRUNCHEON AND SWING ITS PRECIPITOUS POUNDAGE INTO THE YOUTH'S FACE, CRUSHING HIS SKULL AND FREEING THE MACHINE. I THEN ACHIEVED A RATING OF "AAA" ON THE SONG "MAX 300" USING ONLY THE RAPID RIPPLING OF MY RAUCOUSLY RIGID RAMROD. NEEDLESS TO SAY, THE WET-PANTIED WOMANLY WATCHERS WERE ALREADY IN THE THROES OF PASSION FROM THE OVERPOWERING SCENT OF MY TORPID TESTOSTERONE TUBE, SO I LET THEM GATHER 'ROUND FOR A GROUP HUG OF THE GARGANTUAN GIRTH OF MY GORGEOUS GUY-GIRDER BEFORE CONQUERING EACH OF THEIR QUIXOTICALLY QUIVERING QUIMS WITH A FURIOUS FOUNTAIN OF FROTHING FUCK-FOAM. MY HIGH SCORE HAS NEVER BEEN BEATEN. I GUARANTEE IT.

Deathstar

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. I KNOW MOST OF YOU PROBABLY ENJOY STAR WARS. WELL, SORRY TO SAY, IT WASN'T LUKE THAT BLEW UP THE DEATH STAR. IT WAS ME AND MY LENGTHY LENGERIE LIGHTSABER. SO I WAS FLYING AROUND IN MY X-WING, SKILLFULLY SHOOTING DOWN ENEMY TIE FIGHTERS, SLOWLY ENGORGING MY VEINY VAGINAL REAPER. EVENTUALLY, MY IMMENSE IMMEASUREABLE INPREGNATOR GREW TOO LARGE TO FIT IN MY SHIP, AND ME AND MY JABBA FLEW OUT INTO SPACE. AS HORNY AS A PEDO AT SWIMMING LESSONS, I FLOATED AROUND LOOKING FOR SOMETHING TO BUST A NUT AND RELIEVE MY LEVIATHAN LOVE LOAF IN. I SPOTTED THE DEATH STAR AND IMMEDIATELY STARTED TO THRUST MY TWAT JOCKEY INTO IT. STROKE AFTER STROKE I STARTED SINGLECOCKEDLY DESTROYING THE EMPIRE'S ULTIMATE WEAPON. AS MY SUPER SPUNK CANNON SLOWLY SWELLED WITH SAC SAUCE, I FLAILED AROUND IN ECSTACY AND HIT DOWN SEVERAL MORE TIE FIGHTERS. MY MIGHTY MEAT MISSLE TWITCHED WITH HAPPINESS AS I QUICKLY FILLED THE DEATH STAR WITH MY FUCK STICK'S FETAL FOOTSOLDIERS, OUTNUMBERING THE ENEMY BY 1000 TO 1. THE FILLING OF THE STRUCTURE WITH MY PECKER PHLEGM CAUSED IT TO EXPLODE LIKE A VIRGIN'S CHERRY ENCOUNTERING MY CERVIX SLAMMER. THUSLY, THE DEATH STAR WAS DESTROYED BY ME, NOT LUKE SKYSCHLONG. I GUARANTEE IT.

Decrepit Old Grandmother

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, CEO AND FOUNDER OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. THIS MORNING I MADE A VISIT TO YOUR DECREPIT OLD GRANDMOTHER AT THE RETIREMENT HOME - I COULD SMELL HER EXCITEMENT AT MY ARRIVAL EMENATING FROM HER DEPENDS FROM HALFWAY DOWN THE HALL. I WIPED THE SHIT OFF THAT WRINKLY ASS WITH THE CHRISTMAS CARD YOU SENT HER BEFORE I IMPLANTED MY SEXUAL SQUID THREE FEET UP HER COLON. HER WHEELCHAIR COLLAPSED UNDER THE RELENTLESS POUNDING OF MY POWERFUL ANAL INTRUDER. SHE CLIMAXED WITH SUCH FEROCITY THAT MRS. PETERSON THREE DOORS DOWN WENT INTO CARDIAC ARREST AND OLD MAN JENKINS CAME OUT OF HIS COMA. SHE LAPPED UP THE REMNANTS OF MY BOYBUTTER OFF THE LINOLEUM AND USED IT TO TAKE A WEEK'S WORTH OF MEDS. I GUARANTEE IT.

Delicious Deluge of Dong Droppings

HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WAREHOUSE. I AM IMPRESSED THAT SOMEONE SO OBVIOUSLY INCAPABLE OF BIPEDAL MOVEMENT DUE TO THE ENORMOUS ROLLS OF FLESH SURROUNDING YOU IS CAPABLE OF TYPING AT ALL. I HAVE A SET OF TRIPLETS NIBBLING AT MY CARNAL CORNUCOPIA; WHEN I CLIMAX, A DELICIOUS DELUGE OF DONG DROPPINGS WILL BE FLUNG INTO LOW EARTH ORBIT. A TEAM OF SCIENTISTS HIGHLY TRAINED IN THE EROTIC ART OF ALIGNING MY RAPACIOUS RAPE ROCKET WILL ENSURE THAT THIS QUALITY QUIM-CAULK QUINTESSENCE RE-ENTERS THE ATMOSPHERE AIMED EXACTLY AT YOUR ADMITTEDLY AMPLE FRAME. IF THE SIZZLING HEAT OF MY NIAGARA-LIKE TORRENT OF BOILING HOT FERTILITY FLUID DOESN’T KILL YOU, THE FACT YOU’LL BE TOO AROUSED TO DO MORE THAN INHALE IT DEEPLY WHILE TRYING VAINLY TO FIND A WAY TO REACH YOUR IMPRESSIVELY INSIGNIFICANT INCEST INCHWORM WILL. I GUARANTEE IT.

EXTINGUISHING THE YELLOWSTONE

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, CEO AND FOUNDER OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. ONE LATE EVENING, AS I WAS YODELING INTO THE CAVERNOUS COOCH OF MY COHABITATION PARTNER, I HAD A BRIGHT IDEA - TO STROKE MY MASSIVE MANLY MEATSICLE OVER THE BURNING FORESTS OF YELLOWSTONE. FIRE SUPPRESANT MAY NOT STOP THE RAGING FLAMES, BUT MY COLLOSAL COCK CONGLOMERATE WOULD. DOUSING THE FLAMES IN GEORGE'S JOCKSTRAP JUICE WOULD CAUSE THE FLAMES TO IMMEDIATELY EXTINGUISH, LEAVING NOTHING BUT TREES AND SLICK SACK SAUCE WITHIN THE PINES. WHILE WOODLAND ANIMALS WOULD NOT SURVIVE THE TORRENTIAL RAINS OF MY SUPER SPOOGE SYRUP, THE FOREST RANGERS, IF FEMALE, WOULD BE VERY APPRECIATIVE. I GUARANTEE IT.

Eric Bauman

HELLO, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. JUST NOW, A MENTALLY INSANE MAN NAMED ERIC BAUMAN STOLE A SUIT FROM MY STORE AND CLAIMED IT WAS HIS. IN NO TIME, MY MASSIVE MANHOOD MISSILE TORE OUT OF MY FRESHLY TAILORED PANTS, KNOCKING HIM TO THE GROUND. THE LOOK OF FRIGHT IN HIS EYES CAUSED MY LOVE MACHINE TO TINGLE, AND WITH MY OBLITERATED PANTS LAY STREWN ABOUT MY ANKLES, I CHARGED AT HIM WITH THE FEROCITY OF A FREIGHT TRAIN. THE LOOK THAT GRACED HIS TEARFUL EYES AS MY PULSATING POWER PUMP RUSHED TO MEET HIS FACE WILL CAUSE ME RUMBLING LAUGHTER FOR MANY A YEAR TO COME. SCARED AND HELPLESS, HE TRIED TO RUN BUT IT WAS FUTILE AS HE GOT A TASTE OF MY COLLOSAL COCK CANNON CRASHING ACROSS HIS CRANIUM, KNOCKING HIM ACROSS THE FLOOR, THROUGH SEVERAL DESKS, AND FINALLY CRASHING HIM AGAINST THE WALL, WHERE I STOOD OVER HIM RELEASING A MULTITUDE OF MANJUICE, DROWNING HIM IN MY RICH PROTEIN SHAKE. THE COPIOUS AMOUNT OF CORN SYRUP FROM MY PULSATING POWER PACKED PUBIC FLESHMEAT FLOODED THE STORE AND SEVERAL NEARBY STREETS, INJURING HUNDREDS AS THEY TRIED TO FLEE. I GUARANTEE IT.

Explosion

HI IM GEORGE ZIMMER FOUNDER AND CEO OF MENS WAREHOUSE, AND WHILE YOUR OFFER INTRIGUES ME YOU MUST BE ASSURED THAT THE VERY FIRST TIME I EXTRACT MY THROBBING GRISTLE STICK FROM MY BULGING SUIT PANTS AND PLUNGE IT DEEP INTO YOUR WAITING CLEFT AS AHAB SO PLUNGED HIS SPEAR INTO THE RED BLOWHOLE OF MOBY DICK, THAT THE EXPLOSION OF MAN FLUID THAT WOULD FILL YOUR INTERNAL CAVITY WOULD DO SO WITH SUCH DAEMONIC ALACRITY AS TO CAUSE A SPONTANEOUS AND COMPLETE ERUPTION OF YOUR INTERNAL ORGANS IN SUCH A GROTESQUE AND SPECTACULAR MANNER THAT I WOULD BE COVERED IN LITTLE RED DRIPPING BITS OF YOU IN 5 SECONDS FLAT. I GUARANTEE IT.

FIRST OF NOVEMBER

HI. I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, CEO AND FOUNDER OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. ON NOVEMBER 1ST, MY HE-SPEWING MAN VOLCANO WILL SIMULTANEOUSLY SLATHER TEN MAJOR CITIES AROUND THE WORLD WITH THICK, CALLOUS SPOOGE. NOT A SINGLE SOUL IN ANY OF THOSE CITIES WILL BE SPARED FROM MY GOD-KILLING GREAT HUNK OF MAN-MEAT. WHEN THE MEDIA ARRIVES TO VIEW MY SPERM-SOAKED DISASTER, THE SPERM WILL ATTACK AND DESTROY THEM ON LIVE TV. EACH SPERM BEING THE SIZE OF A FULL GROWN GERMAN SHEPHERD. WHEN THE WORD GETS OUT TO THE REST OF THE WORLD THAT MY VAST CUM-FLUTE IS ON THE LOOSE AGAIN, HAVOC WILL ENSUE. I GUARANTEE IT.

FRONT ROW OF A MOVIE THEATER

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. WHILE SURREPTITIOUSLY PLUNGING MY ROSY-CHEEKED CYCLOPEAN ALLY INTO THE ANAL CAVITY OF A YOUNG MIGRANT FARM WORKER OF INDETERMINATE GENDER IN THE FRONT ROW OF A MOVIE THEATER, THE POOR YOUTH SCREAMED FOR MORE THAN THREE MINUTES STRAIGHT, FINALLY COUGHING UP A LOAD OF 100% PURE ZIMMER SAUCE AND PASSING OUT. THE OTHER MOVIE PATRONS, ANGRY AT THE INTERRUPTION OF THE ADVENTURES OF SHARKBOY AND LAVAGIRL IN 3-D, BEGAN PELTING ME WITH DRINKS, FOOD, AND PHONE NUMBERS HASTILY WRITTEN ON NAPKINS. UNFORTUNATELY, MY OUTRAGEOUSLY DAPPER SUIT WAS RUINED IN THE PROCESS. I NONCHALANTLY PULLED THE UNCONSCIOUS YOUTH OFF MY ENORMOUS EYEBALL GOUGER AND STRIPPED NUDE. THEN, WITH A BESTIAL ROAR, I BEAT THE ENTIRE AUDIENCE TO DEATH--WITHOUT LEAVING THE FRONT ROW. ON MY WAY OUT, IN THE CUSTOM OF THE ZIMMER FAMILY, I GAVE THEM A BURIAL AT SEMEN. I GUARANTEE IT.

Femur-sized Floor Breaker

HI I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. MY FIRST TIME WAS FANTASTIC. A YOUNG GIRL WAS SUMMONED TO MY PRIVATE CHAMBERS, DEEMED WORTHY TO BE THE FIRST CONQUEST OF THE NEW ZIMMER HEIR. I REACHED MY FULL RAGING HEIGHT WITHIN SECONDS AS BLOOD FLOODED INTO MY FEMUR-SIZED FLOOR BREAKER. THE HALF TERRIFIED GIRL QUIVERED WITH ANTICIPATION AS I SHED MY SUIT, THE PINACLE OF TAILORING TRIUMPH. BEFORE SHE COULD SCREAM WITH FEAR OR DELIGHT, I HAD ALREADY MANUEVERED WAIST DEEP INTO HER AS YET UNTOUCHED FEMININE FLOWER. I PLOWED HER PASSION PERSIMMON WITH THE INTENSITY OF A MASSIVE BULL STALLION. SHE WAS HELPLESS TO RESIST THE SUCCESSIVE WAVES OF INSEMINATING SENSUAL EXCTASY THAT EMANATED FROM MY MASSIVE MAN-CANNON. MY DEVASTING DAMSEL DESTROYER DEFTLY FILLED THE FULL LENGTH OF HER VAGINAL CAVITY. AFTER THIRTY TWO CONSECUTIVE HOURS OF PURE PUSSY POUNDING, I PROCEEDED TO PUMMEL HER POOPER WITH MY PATENTED PUREÉ OF POTENT PROGENY-MAKERS. THE WENCH WAS UNABLE TO WALK FOR WEEKS AFTER BEING SUBJECTED TO MY UNSTOPPABLE UNDERGARMENT DESTROYER. APPROACHING THE THIRD DAY OF RELENTLESS RAIDING OF HER WET WOMANHOOD, I FINALLY GAVE IN TO HER PLEAS FOR PAUSE. AS SHE ROSE TO LEAVE MY ROOM, I WHIPPED MY PRIME CUT OF POWERFUL POLE-MEAT ACROSS THE ROOM, AND FILLED HER WITH ENOUGH SEMEN TO GIVE HER A LIFETIME ZIMMER EXPERIENCE.

THAT WOMAN WAS YOUR MOTHER. I GUARANTEE IT.

George Foreman

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WAREHOUSE. THAT GODDAMN NIGGER GEORGE FOREMAN LIES LIKE THE LITTLE BITCH THAT HE IS. IN ACTUALITY, I SHOVED MY MASSIVE MEAT MOUNTAIN UP HIS WIFE AND DOG'S ASSES, KILLING THEM INSTANTLY. THEN I USED GEORGE'S OWN LEAN MEAN GRILLING MACHINE TO COOK THEIR CORPSES. I MUST ADMIT, THOUGH, THAT GRILL CAN COOK A MIGHTY FINE BABY BATTER-FILLED MAIN COURSE. I GUARANTEE IT.

G.J SUSSMAN

HI, I AM G.J. SUSSMAN, FOUNDER AND CEO OF SICP. WHILE LAMENTING OVER THE LACK OF FORCED INDENTATION IN SCHEME LAST NIGHT, YOUR MOTHER CALLED ME AND ASKED ME IF I WOULD BE SO KIND AS TO HELP HER WITH A SICP EXERCISE; BEING THE FINE GENTLEMAN THAT I AM, I PUT ON MY DAPPER WIZARD HAT AND ROBE AND WENT OVER TO HER HOUSE. ROGUISHLY SNEAKING THROUGH THE BACK DOOR I KNOCKED HER OUT WITH A CUDDER AND TORE THE GARMENTS OFF HER RIPE BODY. HER FULL BREASTS AROUSED ME TO THE DEGREE THAT MY EVALUATOR STOOD STRAIGHT IN THE TIME IT TAKES TO DO A LAZY COMPUTATION. NOT BEING ABLE TO CONTAIN MYSELF, I SHOVED MY RIGHTEOUS SUSSBOY IN THE MANHOLE OF THE FINE LASS. IT WAS OBVIOUSLY NOT DESIGNED FOR A MAN OF MY OBSCENE GIRTH, AND SHE WOKE UP FROM THE PAIN. NOT CARING ABOUT ANYTHING BUT MY MANLINESS, I CONTINUED THRUSTING AS SHE FAINTED AGAIN FROM THE AGONIZING TORTURE OF THE TRIPEDAL CREATURE LOOMING OVER HER. IN A MINUTE I WAS ABOUT TO EXPLODE WITH THE FORCE OF SEVERAL ANGRY SUPERNOVAS IN A SACK, . THE FLOOD CAME, AND LIKE MOSES I CLEAVED HER IN HALF FROM THE SHOCK. NOT STOPPING, I SHOVED THE HOSE IN HER EYE SOCKET AND LET THE REST OF THE SAUCE ENTER HER SKULL. AFTER THAT I WENT HOME AND READ SICP UNTIL I FELL ASLEEP. I GUARANTEE IT.

Gooks

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR DICK-DRAGGING GOOK CARCASS AWAY FROM MY TURF, I'M GOING TO SHOVE MY SPERM WHALE SO FAR UP YOUR DRAINAGE PIPE THAT YOU'LL BE TASTING THE UNDERWEAR THAT I WEAR UNDER MY DAPPER SUIT FOR THE NEXT FIVE YEARS. I GUARANTEE IT.

Greeks and Asians

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. I'D LIKE TO TAKE THIS MOMENT TO SAY THAT MY UNSTOPPABLE PILLAR OF A THOUSAND ORGASMS IS COMPLETELY EQUAL-OPPORTUNITY. TO THE GREEKS, I AM THE MIGHTY HERCULES THAT SPLITS APART THEIR ROCK OF GIBRALTAR. TO THE HINDUS I AM ZISHNA, THE TEN-HEADED GOD OF DEFLOWERING - AND ONLY FIVE OF THOSE HEADS ARE ATTACHED TO NECKS. INDEED, THE RECTUMS OF THOSE OF EAST ASIAN DESCENT HOLDS A SPECIAL PLACE UNDER MY RIGHT TESTICLE. THEIR TINY FRAMES CLENCH TIGHTLY WHEN I CRUSH THEIR ORGANS UNDER THE UNSTOPPABLE DRAMA OF MY ANAL ASSAULT. AS RIGOR MORTIS SETS IN, THE TIGHTNESS OF THEIR RAVAGED COLON UPON MY MIGHTY KATANA IS UNMATCHED BY ANY OTHER RACE. NO LESS THAN FIFTY-SEVEN SAMURAI HAVE COMMITTED HARA-KIRI UPON TAKING A SINGLE LOOK AT MY MIGHTY BLADE FROM THE DISHONOR OF WIELDING SUCH TINY EASTERN BLADES AGAINST MY MARVEL OF MANHOOD. I GUARANTEE IT.

Hairy Hot Dog

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, CEO AND FOUNDER OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. ONE DAY I WAS AT HOME, HELPING MY WIFE TO A HANDSOME HELPING OF MY HAIRY HOT DOG. AS SHE SQUIRMED BENEATH MY GENEROUS GIRTH, I NOTICED A FAMILIAR IMAGE ON THE TV - ME. AS I LEANED TOWARD THE TELEVISION, THE IMAGE OF MY DAPPER SUIT CAUSED MY LUSCIOUS LOINS TO PUMP INTO OVERDRIVE. I SMASHED INTO MY WIFE'S VAGINA LIKE TED KENNEDY OFF A PIER, AND SOON FOUND MYSELF REACHING ORGASM TO MY HANDSOME VOICE. I SHOT FORTH A GARGANTUAN GOURD OF GODLIKE GROUPINGS, SPLATTERING MY WIFE IN MORE EGG WHITE THAN A CHINESE COOK'S HANDS. I GUARANTEE IT.

Halloween

HI IM GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MENS WEARHOUSE. IT WAS THE NIGHT OF THE 31ST ALSO KNOWN AS HALLOWEEN, WHEN MANY PEOPLE OF THE YOUNG VARIETY GO AROUND IN SHITTY COSTUMSES AND GETTING FREE CANDY INSTED OF BEING AT HOME AND HAVING WILDY ORGIES . THERE I WAS IN MY ZIMMERMOBILE, RUNNING OVER THE POOR LADS AND LASSES IN THEIR $20.00 COSTUMES FORM WAL-MART, WHEN I SUDDENLY SPOTTED A FINE, BLONDE WOMAN WITH BREASTS THAT WERE AS BIG AS THE CANDY BOWL SHE HAD IN HER HANDS, HANDING OUT CANDY FROM A LOVELY, BRICK HOUSE IN THE SUBURBS. I THEN STOPPED MY ZIMMERMOBILE, MY ENORMUS MEAT DRILL POKING OUT MY PANTS AT THE SIGHT OF THE VOLUPTUOUS WOMAN. SHE HAD THEN ASKED ME THE SAME QUESTION SHE HAD ASKED OTHER KIDS TAHT CAME BY ONLEY FOR CHEAP CANDY WHICH WAS, 'WHO ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO ME AND WHAT IS YOUR TRICK?' LAUGHING AT THE STUPID COMMENT SHE HAD SAID, I THEN KNOCKED OVER THE CANDY BOWL SHE WAS HOLDING BETWEEN HER 2 FLESH BASKETBALLS, FORECEFULY SMACKED HER AND BENT HER OVER WITH MY ROD OF MEN, AND THEN TOOK OFF MY BUSINESS PANTS AND SHOWED HER MY SPECIAL TRICK BY DEFILING HER OVARIES AND MAKING HER SCREAM WITH EXCITEMENT WITH THE RHYTHM OF MY GIANT COCK. AS SOON AS I FELT THE POINT OF CLIMAX, I THEN PROCEEDED TO SQUIRT MY GOOEY NOUGAT CREAM ALL OVER HER LIVING ROOM. WHEN THE KIDS HAD ARRIVED AT HER HOUSE, THEY THOUGHT MY EJACULATORY FLUID WAS NOUGAT CANDY AND ATE IT. OF COURSE, I WAS ALREADY GONE AND SPEEDING AWAY IN MY ZIMMERMOBILE LOOKING FOR ANOTHER FINE LASS TO SHOW MY GREAT HALLOWEEN TIRCK TO. I GUARANTEE IT.

In the Park

I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. AS I AIMLESSLY AMBLED THROUGH THE PARK THIS DAY I SAW IN THE THE BUSHES A COUPLE FRANTICALLY FUCKING FANTASTICALLY. IMMEDIATELY I FELT MY MARVELOUSLY MAGNIFICENT MASSIVE MEATY MAN HAMMER TERRIFICALLY TEAR MY PANTS INTO TINY SCRAPS. AS MY INCREDIBLY IMMENSE IMMACULATE COCK SPRANG FORTH. IT SPRUNG INTO THE JAW OF THE MAN KNOCKING HIM LEAGUES AWAY. THE WOMAN LOOKED UP AT MY TERRIFIC TITANIC TOOL AND IMMEDIATELY LOST CONTROL OF HER QUIVERING QUIM. HER VAGINA DRIPPED VORACIOUSLY FOR MY VEINY VAGINAL REAPER. I IMPALED HER FORM UPON MY WEAPON OF MASS ORGASM LEAVING HER WITHOUT BREATH OR THOUGHT. I POUNDED HER TIGHT TUBE UNTIL I RELEASED MY TORRENTIAL TESTICULAR TSUNAMI SENDING HER FLYING AS HAD HER MAN. MY ENGORGED ENRAGED MAN HAMMER CONTINUED TO SPRAY MY CREAM OF VAGINAL FOOT SOLDIERS ACROSS THE PARK FOR HOURS AFTERWARDS. 9 MONTHS LATER 46 WOMEN WHO WERE IN THAT PARK THAT DAY ALL HAD CHILDREN. I GUARANTEE IT.

Kidney scraper

HI I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WAREHOUSE. NO ONE CAN IMAGINE THE HORRORS THAT MY GREASY GRECIAN MAN POLE CAN UNLEASH. ANY HOLE THAT GETS IN MY WAY WILL BE SPELUNKED BY MY MIGHTY KIDNEY SCRAPER. I WILL PLUMB THE DEPTHS OF YOUR MOIST ORAFICES AND THEN PROCEED TO PUMP MILLIONS OF FUTURE ZIMMERS INTO YOU INNARDS. I GUARANTEE IT.

Magic

HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. MAGIC? I’LL BET THE LAST TIME YOU GOT ANYWHERE NEAR MAGIC IN BED YOU WERE SHOVING TWENTY-SIDED DICE UP YOUR ASS WHILE YOU JERKED YOUR TINY WAND TO YOUR MAGIC: THE GATHERING DECK. SOUNDS TO ME LIKE YOU NEED A MEGA-DOSE OF ZIMMER-BRAND MASCULINITY. I’LL COVER YOUR HAPLESS, EFFEMINATE FORM IN A THREE FOOT DEEP LAYER OF WHITE-HOT BABY BROTH FROM MY IMMINENTLY IMPRESSIVE ZIMMER PLEASURE PYTHON. YOU’LL BEG ME FOR A SECOND COMING, AND I’LL OBLIGE YOU, PUMMELING YOU IN EVERY ORIFICE. YOU’LL AWAKEN IN THE HOSPITAL, YOUR TEETH BROKEN OFF AT THE GUM LINE AND WITH SEVERE BLOOD LOSS FROM YOUR ANUS. BUT YOU’LL STILL CALL ME TO BEG FOR MORE. I GUARANTEE IT.

Mass Fertilising

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. WHEN WALKING DOWN THE HIGH STREET THIS MORNING, MY THEN-FLACCID FEROCIOUS FIRE HYDRANT THREATENING TO TEAR OUT OF MY PANTS, I ENCOUNTERED A WELL-ENDOWED YOUNG LADY WEARING A MINISKIRT SO SHORT THAT IT RESEMBLED A RIBBON. IMMEDIATELY, MY MASSIVE MARAUDING MAN MEAT BEGAN TO EXPAND, SOON FILLING THE ENTIRE STREET AND CATCHING THE EYE OF THIS PRETTY ROSE. WITH ONE TUG OF MY TITANIC TROUSER THRASHER, SHE WAS SLAMMED INTO THE SIDE OF A SKYSCRAPER, CONVENIENTLY SPREAD-EAGLED, ALLOWING ME TO CHARGE AT HER WELL-LUBRICATED LOVE CUP WITH MY PLANET-SIZED PUMPING POLE AND TEAR HER APART FROM THE INSIDE OUT WITH MY PREPOSTEROUS PROTEIN POSEIDON. THE RESULTING RAPE CAUSED EARTHQUAKES THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE CITY, AND WHEN I FINALLY RELEASED MY BARRAGE OF BABY BLAMANGE, IT FLOODED THE CITY FOR DAYS, FERTILISING SEVERAL HUNDRED LADIES WITH MY SUPERB SPROG. AFTERWARDS, THEY LICKED UP EVERY DROP. I GUARANTEE IT.

Mentally Handicapped McDonalds Employee

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. MANY YEARS AGO, A MENTALLY HANDICAPPED MCDONALDS EMPLOYEE PILFERED AN OUTRAGEOUSLY DAPPER SUIT FROM MY ILLUSTRIOUS STORE AND WRONGFULLY CLAIMED IT AS HIS OWN. INSULTED BY HIS DISHONESTY, MY MASSIVE MANHOOD MISSILE TORE OUT OF MY FRESHLY TAILORED PANTS, AND VICIOUSLY SLAMMED HIM INTO PAVEMENT, RATTLING HIS BONES AND SEVERING HIS FORESKIN. THE LOOKS OF INNOCENCE, ABJECT TERROR, AND PURE SADNESS IN HIS EYES EMOTIONALLY AND CHEMICALLY UNITED AND FORMED AN APHRODISIAC WHICH EMANATED FROM HIS VERY SOUL. AROUSED BY THIS DISPLAY AND WITH MY OBLITERATED PANTS LAID STREWN AROUND MY ANKLES, I CHARGED AT HIM WITH THE FEROCITY OF A FEMALE GRIZZLY BEAR PROTECTING ITS YOUNG. THE BEWILDERED YET FRIGHTENED LOOK THAT GRACED HIS TEAR-COVERED, DOWN'S SYNDROME-SHAPED FACE AS MY PULSATING POWER PUMP RUSHED TO MEET HIS FACE HAS CAUSED AND WILL CONTINUE TO CAUSE ME UPROARIOUS, RUMBLING LAUGHTER FOR MANY DECADES TO COME. SCARED AND HELPLESS, HE BEGAN TO WADDLE AWAY BUT ALAS, HIS EFFORTS WERE FUTILE. BEFORE HE COULD STUMBLE AWAY FROM MY GRASP, I CLOSED THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US WITH MY MASSIVE, MENACING MEMBER, AND HE SOON GOT A TASTE OF MY COLLOSSAL CUM CANNON AS IT SMASHED INTO HIS CRANIUM, WHICH WAS QUITE PUNY BY COMPARISON. THE FORCE OF MY CYCLOPEAN CUNT CLOBBERER SENT HIM HURTLING ACROSS THE ROOM, THROUGH SEVERAL DESKS, AND FINALLY CAUSED HIM TO SLAM HEADFIRST INTO A DISPLAY OF MY DELIGHTFULLY DAPPER SUITS. I VAULTED OVER TO HIM WITH THE HELP OF MY PULSATING PYTHON OF POON-POUNDING, AND THEN LIFTED HIM UP AND PINNED HIM AGAINST THE ORNATELY-DECORATED CEILING WITH THE HEAD OF MY CAREFULLY MANUEVERED CERVIX CRUSADER. AS I WATCHED ALL HOPE DISSAPPEAR FROM HIS GRIEF-STRICKEN FACE, I BESPATTERED HIM WITH A DELUGE OF MASTERFULLY SPREAD MANJUICE, DROWNING HIM IN MY RICH PROTEIN SHAKE AND CORRUPTING HIS SOUL. THE COPIOUS AMOUNT OF CORN SYRUP RUSHING FORTH FROM MY PULSATING, POWER-PACKED PLACENTA POKER QUICKLY FLOODED MY STORE AND RAISED THE EARTH'S SEA LEVEL BY APPROXIMATELY 10 PERCENT. BILLIONS OF PEOPLE GASPED FOR AIR AS THEY DROWNED IN LEGIONS OF MY STIFLINGLY SUBSTANTIAL SEED, AND MANY YEARS AFTER THIS INCIDENT, THE BODY OF THE MENTALLY HANDICAPPED MCDONALDS EMPLOYEE HAS NOT BEEN RECOVERED. I GUARANTEE IT.

Miners

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. THE TWELVE MINERS WERE ACTUALLY ALIVE. I WAS IN THE RESCUE PARTY EYEING A PARTICULARLY ATTRACTIVE FEMALE WHEN WE FOUND THE GROUP. IN THE JOY OF UNCOVERING THESE COAL-CLAD MEN CLINGING TO LIFE, MY EXTRAVAGANTLY ENGORGED ENDOWMENT FREED ITSELF FROM ITS ENCLOSED ENVIRONMENT AND TORE THROUGH THE WOMAN'S CLOTHES, TAKING HER FOR A SURPRISE RIDE ON THE ZIMMER MINESHAFT DRILL. THE SHOCK AND AWE CAUSE BY MY MASSIVE MEMBER RENDERED THE REST OF THE RESCUERS UNABLE TO HELP THE SURVIVORS. SEEING THE WIDE EYES OF THE MINERS IN FRONT OF ME, I LET LOOSE A LEGENDARY LANDMINE OF LIQUID MAN-LATHER, EXPLODING SO POWERFULLY IT LACERATED THE BODY CAVITY OF MY FEMALE COMPANION, MIXING WITH HER BLOOD LIKE A STRAWBERRY CREAMSLUSH AS IT FILLED THE CAVERNOUS MINE AS IF IT WERE A GIGANTIC UTERUS. ONLY ONE OF THE MINERS HAD STRENGTH ENOUGH TO STAY ABOVE THE RISING WAVES OF MY CAVE CHOWDER, SWIMMING TO THE SURFACE WITH ME, THE OTHER RESCUERS, AND MY IMPALED COMPANION. I'M NOT SURE HOW HE SURVIVED, BUT I'LL FINISH HIM OFF WHEN I MAKE MY ROUNDS WITH THE NURSES TONIGHT. I GUARANTEE IT.

Miniskirt

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WAREHOUSE. ONE FINE DAY AS I WAS WALKING DOWN THE STREET I SPIED A WOMAN IN A MINISKIRT THAT WAS BENDING DOWN TO GET A NEWSPAPER. AS SHE DID I HAD A PERFECT ANGLE AT THOSE ROUND, WHITE, BEAUTIFUL, DAZZLING, FIRM ASS CHEEKS. IT WAS AT ABOUT THIS POINT THAT WHAT ONCE WAS A FLACCID APPENDAGE BETWIXT MY LEGS BECAME A QUIVERING YET RIGID BATON GENERATING ENOUGH HEAT THAT THE GRASS AROUND ME TURNED BROWN AND BURST INTO FLAMES. THE CHEAP VINYL PANELING MELTED ONTO ITSELF LIKE A 3RD DEGREE BURN. BEFORE SHE COULD GET AWAY I RAMMED MY SHILLELAGH INTO UNDULATING, PULSATING, CUNT ONLY FOR HER TO SPRAY MY CUDGEL DOWN WITH GALLONS OF HER GOODY-GOODY-PUSSY-GOO. WHEN IT WAS MY TURN TO SHOOT THE SHERBERT I THREW HER TO THE GROUND AND CAME ON HER BACK SO HARD IT SLID HER TWENTY FEET DOWN THE SIDEWALK AND WITH SUCH A VELOCITY THAT IT HAD THE EFFECT OF SANDBLASTING THE CONCRETE CLEAN OF DOGSHIT AND BUBBLE GUM. THE SCENT OF IT COULD BE SMELLED FOUR BLOCKS AWAY AND ANYONE WHO INHALED WAS INSTANTLY CURED OF ANY SINUS INFECTIONS THEY HAD. I GUARANTEE IT.

Nigger Elves

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. IN A HIGH MATRIARCHAL SOCIETY, I, WITH MY GARGANTUAN GORGON'S EYE, I WOULD RISE ABOVE THE SHACKLES OF INSUPERIORITY AND SET SUCH A BACKWARDS WORLD STRAIGHT. THE WOMEN WOULD RECOGNIZE ME AS A GOD AND OFFER SACRIFICES OF YOUNG VIRGINS TO SATE MY LUST. HOWEVER, AS THE GIRLS WOULD ONLY LAST SECONDS ON MY STUPENDOUSLY STOUT SPERM-SPITTING SPICHTER-SPLITTER, I WOULD THEN PROCEED TO CRUSH THE CITIES OF THESE PEOPLE ARMED ONLY WITH MY WOMAN PLOW OF DOOM, SENDING MANY A EAGER YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN TO THEIR MESSY, SPERM CLOGGED DEATHS. I GUARANTEE IT.

Oh Holy Night

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, OWNER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WAREHOUSE - HEY PENCILDICK, WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU MADE A WOMAN SING WHILE YOU THRUST YOUR SORRY EXCUSE FOR A WARRIOR'S GREATSWORD INTO HER GAPING MAW? I RECALL ONE OF THOSE TIMES I CAME ACROSS ONE OF YOUR LAME EXCUSES OF A LOVE AFFAIR, ONLY TO DRAG HER TO A MOTEL SIX AND GIVE HER A RIDE ON MY INTENSELY MEATY MUSHROOM. SHE WAS SO ESTATIC, SHE STARTED SINGING, "OH HOLY NIGHT," ONLY SHE NEVER GOT TO HOLY. I GUARANTEE IT.

Policewoman

HELLO, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND C.E.O. OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. AS BEFITS ANY MAN OF MY SENSATIONALLY STUPENDOUS STATURE, I HAVE HAD MY SHARE OF BRUSHES WITH THE LAW. I RECALL ONE AUSPICIOUS AUTUMN AFTERNOON I WAS LEAVING THE SCENE OF YET ANOTHER OF MY RIDICULOUSLY RAPTUROUS RAPE RUNS AT THE LOCAL CONVENT WHEN I WAS ACCOSTED BY A POSITIVELY PULSE-POUNDINGLY PRECOCIOUS POLICEWOMAN. ONE LOOK AT THE BUSTY BADGE-BRANDISHING BEAUTY HAD MY CONSUMMATELY COLLOSAL CROTCH CANNON THUMPING AGAINST MY PANT LEG FOR RELEASE. A TWITCH OF THE WRIST, AND MY MONSTROUSLY MIGHTY, MAGESTICALLY MANED LOIN LION ROARED FORTH AND DROVE DEEP PAST THE LUSCIOUSLY LASCIVIOUS LAW-LADY'S LABIA. AS SHE SQUIRMED AND SWAYED AT THE SOUL-SPEARING SENSATION THAT IS THE SPIRITUAL SEXPERIENCE OF ZIMMER, MY SOFA-SIZED SWEATY SEXUAL SWASHBUCKLER SPOUTED A SINFULLY SUCCULENT SPRAY OF SENSATIONALLY SLOPPY, SWEET-SMELLING SPERM SAUCE. I'VE NEVER PAID A PARKING TICKET SINCE. I GUARANTEE IT.

RELIGIOUS AWESOME

HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WAREHOUSE. YOUR MOTHER MAY HAVE BEEN BLESSED MORE TIMES BY THE SACRED WHITE RIVER OF MY PELVIC PALADIN, BUT THAT IS NO REASON TO GIVE ME THE GREEN EYE OF JEALOUSY, MY COCK-LOVING CAVALIER. BETWEEN US, TONIGHT WILL BE RELIGIOUS RAPTURE, FOR YOUR ANAL CLEFT SHALL BE MY GREAT SEA, AND I SHALL BE ITS MOSES, CLEAVING ITS MIGHTY CHOCOLATE OCEAN TO MAKE WAY FOR THE SAFE PASSAGE OF MY TESTICULAR TRIBE, HAVING BEEN GRANTED MEPHITIC FREEDOM FROM THE TYRANNY OF ENSLAVEMENT BEHIND A LOCKED PROSTATE. TO DO THIS, I WILL READY MY LONGINUS TO PIERCE YOUR BACKSIDE’S SACRED DOMAIN — YOU WILL SCREAM FIRST IN PAIN, THEN IN PASSION AS ITS STEEL-LADEN GIRTH STRETCHES AND RIPS THE FABRIC OF YOUR MORTAL INNARDS, DISIMBUING YOU OF YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS, LEADING YOU TO A HEAVEN, THEN REVIVING YOUR FEELING OF PHYSICAL REALITY LIKE A ONCE-CRUCIFIED JESUS RETURNING TO EARTH. I GUARANTEE IT.

Revenge

HI I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WAREHOUSE. THE OTHER NIGHT I TRACKED DOWN THE UPPITY BITCH WHO DREW THIS PICTURE AND I PROCEEDED TO FREE WILLY ALL OVER HER FACE. I SPACKLED HER FACE WITH MY SALTY MAN YOGURT, MAKING SURE TO COVER EVERY INCH OF HER SELF-RIGHTEOUS MUG. I GUESS SHE LEARNED HER LESSON BECAUSE SHE CAME BACK BEGGING FOR MORE. I GUARANTEE IT.

School Days

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF MEN'S WAREHOUSE. BACK WHEN I WAS A FRESHMAN IN MY DAY, ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL I RAPED 3 YOUNG COYOTE PUPS AND RAVAGED AN ENTIRE GROUP CHEERLEADERS. AND WHEN I WAS FINISHED WITH MY MARVELOUS RAPE RAMPAGE, MY MASSIVE MALICIOUS MOLESTATION MANDABLE UNLEASED A TORRENT OF MY SLIMY STICKY ZIMMER BABY GOO. NO ONE AT THAT SCHOOL HAS BEATEN MY RECORD SINCE, I GUARANTEE IT.

Sex with Zimmer

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MENS WAREHOUSE. RECENTLY, I WAS APPROACHED BY QUITE A LUCIOUS LOOKING LADY PERSON. HER BINDING BUST FIGURE IMMEDIATLY FORCED MY TWITCHING GARGANTUAN MAN CANNON TO RAPIDLY EXPAND TO DIVINE ELEPHANTINE DIMENSIONS. THE LADY IN QUESTION, WHO'S BEAUTY WAS ONLY MATCHED BY THAT OF MY COLLOSSAL DOWNSTAIRS DOWEL, WAS ASTOUNDED AND THUS PROCEEDED TO STARE INTENTLY AT MY INTENSIFYINGLY TITANTIC LUST LOG OF INFINITE SEXUAL DESIRE AS IT OBILTERATED MY FINE UNDERWEAR AND TROUSERS CUNNINGLY CONSTRUCTED BY MY DIGNIFIED CHAIN OF RETAILERS. SHE WAS SO FLABBERGASTED AT THE SHEER SIZE AND GRANDEUR OF MY MAGNIFICENT AND IMPRESSIVE ZIMMER BATON THAT I UNDRESSED HER FINE SKIRT AND UNDERWEAR GARMENTS WITH MY PSYCOKINETIC EYES AND SLAMMED MY GIANT OMINOUS VEINY WHALE INTO THE CREVACE OF HER ORIFICE AND DISCHARGED AN ARMY OF MINITURE DAPPER ALBINO BOSNIANS TO COAT THE INSIDES OF HER ANAL CAVITY WITH ONLY THE FINEST SMELLING ZIMMER PROTEIN PACKED PENILE PRODUCE. ONCE I HAD FINISHED WITH THE PUPPYLIKE WHORE, I STAMPED MY NOW ALMOST FLACID STOPCOCK OF JOY AGAINST THE GROUND AND CHARGED INTO THE NIGHT SKY WITH THE ROCKET FUEL OF A THOUSAND GODS TO CONTINUE MY CRUSADES OF MEAT CLOBBERIN'. I GUARANTEE IT.

Sexcapades

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. I COME BEARING YOU YET ANOTHER STORY OF SEXUAL ESCAPADES, TO BE FROM NOW ON KNOWN AS "SEXCAPADES" OF ME AND MY GOLDEN GARGANTUAN GASH GRINDER. THE STORY STARTS ABOUT THREE WEEKS TUESDAY AGO, I WAS CALMLY STROLLING THE CITY JUST OUTSIDE OF THE PARK, WHEN IN THE CORNER OF MY EYE I SAW A MOTHER BREAST FEEDING HER CHILD. NATURALLY WHEN I SEE A SIGHT I TURN THE OTHER CHEEK AND LET IT BE, BUT THIS, THIS WOMAN, I COULD NOT ALLOW THAT PRE-PLOWED PINK PLEASURE-HOLE TO BE TORTURED ANY LONGER, I FLEXED MY MIGHTY MAN MEAT MAULER SO IT'D RIP RIGHT THROUGH MY BRAND NEW SUIT PANTS AND AS MY TEN-TONNE TENTANOUS TORPEDO QUICKLY HASTENED TOWARDS HER BABY CANNON THERE WAS A BRIEF MOMENT OF SHOCK, AWE, FEAR, AND GRANDEUR. SHE HURLED THE BABY AWAY AND SPREAD WIDE HER LEGS FOR DOCKING, IT WAS MERE MINUTES BEFORE MY FLOPPING FLESH FLOUNDER LET LOOSE A GEYSER OF CONTINUOUS CORPULENT CHILD COCKTAIL. I THEN LEFT HER IN THE PARK COVERED, SHE STARTED SOBBING BECAUSE SHE KNOWS SO WELL SHE'LL NEVER GET THE EXPERIENCE AGAIN. I GUARANTEE IT.

Shit Zimmer

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, CEO AND FOUNDER OF MEN'S WEARHOUSE. I HAVE AN ENORMOUS PENIS AND I CONSISTENTLY HARASS YOUNG WOMEN WITH IT. I GUARANTEE IT.

Sister in the Alley

HI... I'M GEORGE ZIMMER - FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. A WEEK AND A HALF AGO IN AN ALLEY BEHIND HER WORKPLACE I THRUST MY INHUMANLY TURGID MEMBER INTO YOUR SISTER'S ANAL CAVITY. AS MY GARGANTUAN MEAT SPEAR PENETRATED HER BUTT PIPE SHE SCREAMED AND FAINTED, SMASHING HER FACE AGAINST THE HARD ASPHALT OF THE ALLEY. I FLIPPED HER OVER AND PULLED MY LOG OUT, TAKING CARE NOT TO GET BLOOD ON MY AMAZINGLY DAPPER SUIT AND THEN PROCEEDED TO FIRE MY JIZZ ROCKET ONTO HER GLASSES AND PUCKERED NIPPLES. PROMPTLY AFTER SHOVING HER IN THE TRUNK OF MY LEXUS I DROVE OFF INTO THE DARK NIGHT ONLY TO DROP HER OFF AT A REST STOP MOTEL WITH $1.50 IN CHANGE TO CALL A CAB. SHE ENDED UP TAKING A SUB HOME WHILE CALLING ME 6 TIMES ON MY CELL PHONE. WHEN I ANSWERED ALL I HEARD WAS WIMPERING AND A LOW MOAN. I GUARANTEE IT.

Spring

HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. THAT’S A CUTE STORY, ROBOT GEORGE ZIMMER. BUT I CAN BEST YOU. MY MORTAL MAN MAYONNAISE MAKERS AND MY FLESHY FEMALE FANTASY FULFILLER ARE MORE THAN A MATCH FOR ANY MERE TECHNOLOGICAL TOY. IT WAS SIX MONTHS AGO, AND SPRING HAD COME EARLY. THE LADIES WERE OUT IN FORCE, HUSTLING TO AND FROM THEIR JOBS, OR JUST HAVING FUN IN THE CRISP FEBRUARY AIR. UNTIL I ARRIVED IN NYC, HAVING FLOWN IN ON MY PRIVATE JET. AS ALWAYS HAPPENS AT AIRPORTS, I HAD A LINE OF FLIGHT ATTENDANTS A HUNDRED YARDS LONG, BEGGING FOR A CHANCE TO RIDE MY TANTALIZING TESTICLE TERRIER. MY IN-FLIGHT NAP, ONLY INTERRUPTED BY MY SEXY ONBOARD STEWARDESSES SURREPTITIOUSLY SNEAKING SENSUOUS CARESSES OF MY STUNNINGLY SEXY SUIT AND SEXUALLY SOOTHING SEMEN ASSAILANT, HAD LEFT ME PREPARED TO PLEASE ALL OF THEM. WITH A FLASH, I WAS INSIDE THE FIRST FLIGHT ATTENDANT, PUMMELING HER PASSAGES WITH PELVIC PROWESS AS SHE SCREAMED IN JOY, SHOCKING MANY ERRANT TRAVELERS AS THE MERE SOUND OF MY EROTIC PILLAGING BROUGHT THEM TO A MASSIVE SIMULTANEOUS ORGASM. THREE HOURS LATER, I STRODE OUT OF THE AIRPORT WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE, THE ONLY ONE STILL CONSCIOUS. AND MY SUIT WAS STILL IMMACULATE. I GUARANTEE IT.

Subway

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. MERE HOURS AGO, ON A SUBWAY RIDE HOME TO MY LAVISH PENTHOUSE APARTMENT, ON MY WAY BACK FROM THE WORLDS MOST VIRILE MAN COMPETITION, THERE SAT ACROSS FROM ME A WOMAN OF ADMIRABLE MAMARY PROPORTIONS. NATURALLY, MY IMMEDIATE REACTION WAS FOR MY DANGEROUS, DEVILISH, DAPPER DOWNSTAIRS DOWEL TO SWELL TO THE ROUGHLY THE SIZE OF A MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL BAT. BUT I DIGRESS. THE IMPORTANT PART OF MY TALE OF UNIMAGINABLE SEXUAL PROWESS WAS THUS:

A RATHER INNEBRIATED FELLOW BEGAN TO HARASS THE OTHER PATRONS UPON THE SUBWAY CAR WHOSE DIJMENSIONS WERE BEING NOW APPROACHED BY THAT OF MY TOWERING MEAT FOUNTAIN. HAVING NOT THE SAME AUDACITY AS I, THEY THOUGHT IT BEST TO LET THE MAN BE. AS HE MOVED FROM PROUDLY DISPLAYING HIS COMPARATIVELY INSIGNIFICANT PENILE PINKY TO THE OLDER WOMEN TO THE YOUNG, BOUNCY AND BOUNTIFUL BEAUTIFULLY BREASTED BROAD THAT HAD CAUSED THE MAMMOTH SWELLING OF MY SWEATY MALE-WHALE, I CLUTCHED TIGHTLY MY TROPHY FROM AFOREMENTIONED COMPETITION, AND KNEW IMMEDIATELY THE APPROPRIATE COURSE OF ACTION. THE LOOK THAT GRACED HIS WANDERING EYES AS MY PULSATING POWER PUMP RUSHED TO MEET HIS FACE WILL CAUSE ME RUMBLING LAUGHTER FOR MANY A YEAR. THE RESULTIMG AROMA OF GIN AND TESTOSTERONE THAT LINGERED IN THE AIR WAS INVIGORATING. I THEN SPOKE IN A DIALECT OF MANDARIN CHINESE IN A FREQUENCY THAT ONLY ELEPHANTS CAN HEAR A WARNING TO THIS MAN THAT THIS BEHVAIOR OF HIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE. ALAS, IT FELL ON DEAF EARS, FOR HE HAD PASSED. THE FELLATIO SESSION THAT I HAD EARNED FROM THE MAGNIFICENTLY MILKY MAIDEN WAS INTERRUPTED BY THE GOINGS-ON OF THE NEAREST POLICE OFFICER. RATHER THAN GO THROUGH THE TEDIUM OF FILLING OUT TIRESOME REPORTS AND STATEMENTS, I WASHED HIM OUT OF THE TRAIN AND UP THE STAIRS TO THE STREET WITH A BATH OF ONLY THE FINEST PROTEIN PACKED PUBIC PUDDING THAT I COULD MUSTER. I GUARANTEE IT.

Super Smash Bros Melee

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, CEO AND FOUNDER OF MEN'S WEARHOUSE. I AM THE GREATEST SMASH PLAYER THIS WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN. I WILL CONQUER THE SINNERS THAT SURREPTITIOUSLY STOLE THE TITLE OF THE "BEST". THE FIRST CONQUEST WILL BE KOREAN DJ, A BETRAYER OF HIS BLOOD. HIS RACE SHOULD STAVE OFF THE SUPERLATIVE URGE TO SUCCEED AT SMASH AND SURRENDER THEIR STALWART SKILL TO THE SCI-FI SINGLE, STARCRAFT. I WILL NOT TOLERATE THE TARES OF HIS TELOS AND TURN HIM TOTALLY USING MY TORRID TIGRESS-TICKLER. THE SECOND CONQUEST WILL BE MEW2KING, THE USURPER OF THE THRONE. HIS HORRIBLE HUBRIS WILL HEAR HORROR AS I SHOW HIM TO THE HOUNDS OF HADES, FOR I AM OF THE REAL ROYAL LINE OF MEWTWO, MY RETICENT READER. MY THIRD CONQUEST WILL BE THE PANDERER CHU DAT. FOR HIM TO GAIN SUCH SKILL AND STAY SEXY, HE MUST HAVE SORDIDLY SOLD HIS SOUL TO A SUCCUBI. HIS CHERUBIC, CHILDLIKE CLIMBERS WILL CHOKE ON MY CHORIZO AS I CHORTLE AT HIS CHAGRIN. MY FINAL CONQUEST WILL BE PC CHRIS, THE DECEIVER. PC DOES NOT STAND FOR THE PUBLICLY ACCEPTED "POLITICALLY CORRECT" OR "PERSONAL COMPUTER", LEADING LOVING LOOKERS OF SMASH TO BELLIGERENTLY BELIEVE THAT PC CHRIS IS EITHER MILD-MANNERED OR TECH-SAVVY, OF WHICH HE IS NEITHER. I WILL FELL HIS FLAGRANT FAST-FALLING FELONIES WITH MY FLUCTUATING FORGER OF FERVENT FEMININE FEELINGS. WHAT KINGLY CHARACTER DO I MASQUERADE AS, YOU ASK? WHY NONE OTHER THAN THE LASCIVIOUS LORD OF LICENTIOUSNESS, LUIGI. HIS TITANIC TESTICULAR TYRANNY IS SHOWN BY HIS SHFFGDGF (short hop fast fall gravity-defying green fireball). GREAT ENOUGH IS HIS GREGARIOUSNESS THAT HE GATHERS GLEEFUL GAWKERS SO THAT THEY MAY BE BEFUDDLED BY MY BALL-BUSTING BARRAGE. ALSO, THE SPACE ANIMALS ARE FAGGOTS. I GUARANTEE IT.

Thread on Smashboards: http://smashboards.com/showthread.php?t=112857

Sweet Zimmer

hello there. my name is george. what's that? oh. zimmer. george zimmer. well this morning i woke up and had a bowl of mueselix. it was a little bland. then i went to work and... hm?... oh, the men's wearhouse. no, i'm actually the CEO. yeah. and i .. what's that? oh no, i actually founded it, i'm not anyone's successor. anyway, work was rough today. i found out that 2 of my stores on the west coast are actually closing down due to competition with K&G. and after i was finished dealing with that, i went to an out of the way bar i don't usually frequent and i ... i saw my wife. with another man. i was really upset so i followed them, and ... well, eventually i saw them... i saw them making love. ..... no, it's okay. i just loved her so much. i couldn't believe she'd do that to me. god, what a day. and the whole time, she kept yelling at him 'you're so big, you're so big'. i was so embarassed. i don't know what i'm going to do. i haven't even confronted her yet. i mean, i think that's what she said. i'm kind of sure of it....

THE MEMO AND YOUR SISTER

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. I RECEIVED YOUR MEMO CONCERNING LAST WEEKS LUNCHEON, AND I MUST SAY I REALLY ENJOYED MYSELF. YOUR SISTER, WHO APPARENTLY DECIDED TO ATTEND THE PARTY WEARING A STUNNING SILK DRESS, GAVE MY GARGANTUAL ENORMOUS PULSATING COLUMN OF FLESH NO OTHER CHOICE BUT TO EXTEND AND ERECT TO ITS FULL POTENTIAL, THE SIZE OF WHICH I CAN HARDLY EXPRESS IN WORDS. AT THE SIGHT OF MY IMMENSE MEAT HAMMER, I FOUND YOUR SISTER BEGGING AND MOANING, ON HER KNEES, FOR JUST ONE TASTE OF MY ZIMMER SPECIAL. THE RESULT WAS INEVITABLE; YOUR SISTER WAS INSTANTLY BLOWN ACROSS THE ROOM AS MY COLOSSAL HOSE EXPLODED IN A TORRENT OF MY DNA PUDDING. IT TOOK HER 2 HOURS TO REMOVE THE THICK LAYER OF MY SPECIAL NUT BATTER FROM HER FACE, AND EVEN THOUGH I STRONGLY DISCOURAGED IT, SHE DECIDED TO CONSUME THE ENTIRE QUANTITY OF MY HE-SALSA, THE VOLUME OF WHICH COULD EASILY FILL A INDUSTRIAL SIZED FUEL TANK. I GUARANTEE IT.

The Fresh Zimmer of Bel Air

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WAREHOUSE

NOW THIS IS THE STORY ALL ABOUT HOW EVERY PERSON IN THIS WORLD CAN’T RESIST MY PLOW AND I’D LIKE TO TAKE A MINUTE TO TALK ABOUT MY KIT YOU’LL LIKE THE WAY IT LOOKS…I GUARANTEE IT

IN NEW YORK CITY, BORN AND RAISED POLISHING MY PISTOL’S HOW I SPENT MY DAYS FINGERING, TINKERING, TOUCHING UP MY TOOL CLEANING IT AND MAKING ALL THE LOVELY LADIES DROOL WHEN SUPERMAN FELL FROM THE SKIES ABOVE, SAID, “I CAN PWN YOUR PURPLE-HELMETED WARRIOR OF LOVE”. SO I GAVE HIM A TASTE OF MY PILE-DRIVING PLEXUS AND REALIZED, “I SHOULD MAKE MEN’S SUITS IN TEXAS”.

I HAILED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR IT HAD A STICKER THAT SAID “OBJECTS SMALLER IN MIRROR”. SAID I TO THE CABBIE “I CAN PROVE THAT WRONG!” SO I SHOWED THE GOOD SIR MY SIZEABLE SCHLONG IT VERILY WAS A SIGHT THAT HE JUST COULDN’T QUIT AND THAT’S WHEN I FIRST PROCLAIMED, “I GUARANTEE IT!”

I PULLED UP TO MY MANSION WITH A TRUCK OF WOMEN AND GAVE THEM ALL A TASTE OF MY OMNIPOTENT SEMEN LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM AND KNEW I WOULD FIT AND THAT’S HOW I CAME TO SAY, “I GUARANTEE IT”.

The Fresh Zimmer of Bel Air II

NOW THIS IS THE STORY ALL ABOUT WHEN

I GOT MY FIRST WOMAN AT THE AGE OF TEN

IF YOU'D LIKE TO GET SOME TISSUES YOU CAN FAP RIGHT NOW

I'LL TELL YOU HOW I, GEORGE ZIMMER, GOT SUCH A MASSIVE PLOW

WALKING DOWN THE STREET I WAS YOUNG AND FIT

MY YOGURT DRILL WAS MASSIVE, I GUARANTEE IT

HANGING OUT, RELAXING AND DRAGGING ON THE GROUND

MY SNAKE OF WONDER SEEMED TO WANT SOMETHING TO POUND

WHEN AN 8 YEAR OLD GIRL CAME RIGHT DOWN THE STREET

I LOOKED AT HER AND BEGAN TO GROW TO OVER 9000 FEET

I KNOCKED DOWN ONE LITTLE PLANE AND THE GIRL GOT AFRAID,

AND SAID "THAT'S BIG ENOUGH FOR AN ENTIRE /B/LOCKADE!"

I AIMED MY U-BOAT TOWARD HER AND AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR

SHE LET OUT A SCREAM OF PREPUBESCENT FEAR

IF ANYTHING AT ALL I WISHED THAT THIS GIRL WAS BARE,

BUT I THOUGHT "NAH, FORGET IT- HER CLOTHES WILL JUST TEAR!"

I PULLED UP HER TO CROTCH AND BROKE THROUGH THE GATE

AND I RAMMED HER WITH A PHALLUS THE SIZE OF KUWAIT

I LOOKED DOWN AND SAW A CASCADE OF MY MILKY MOLTEN TRANSMIT,

AND I GOT AN 8 YEAR OLD PREGNANT, I GUARANTEE IT.

The Raven

HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE.

ONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT DREARY, WHILE I PONDERED WEAK AND WEARY OVER MANY A QUAINT AND CURIOUS 4CHAN MOD'S WHORISH MOTHER WHILE I NODDED, NEARLY NAPPING, SUDDENLY THERE CAME A TAPPING AT MY FANTASTIC FERTILITY FRANKFURTER "TIS SOME WHORE," I MUTTERED, "RAPPING AT MY VEINY VENEREAL VIENNA WIENERSCHNITZEL. ONLY THIS AND NOTHING MORE."

AH, DISTINCTLY I REMEMBER, IT WAS IN THE BLEAK DECEMBER, AND CHILL HAD WITHERED MY OPULENT ORAL OPIATE UPON THE FLOOR. WITH A BLINK I LOOKED AND SHUDDERED, MY FOOT IN VIEW MY SIGHT UNCLUTTERED I SIGHED AND BEGAN TO VISUALLY EXPLORE THE AREA AROUND MY COMPUTER. AND I DISCOVERED SOMETHING MORE.

THE FOOT I SAW BELONGED TO ANOTHER, A VIXEN BORN OF SOMETHING OTHER THIS WAS NO 4CHANNER’S WHORISH MOTHER, BUT A VISION OF LUST AND ANAL PLUNDER A MIGHTY AMAZON, CLOTHES TORN ASUNDER AND PANTING MIGHTILY AT MY APPARENT FUROR HAVING SEEN MY LANGUID LADIES LUXURY LOVELINER AND NOTHING MORE.

MY NEED AWAKENED AS MY COMPUTER DESK WEAKENED AND CRACKED BENEATH MY BEWITCHING BEEF BICYCLE MUCH TO THE DELIGHT OF THIS WOMAN, CHRISTENED LENORE. I STOOD WITH DIFFICULTY IN THE WRECKAGE AND OFFERED TO MY LADY A PACKAGE A NIGHT OF UNENDING UNSTOPPABLE UNDULATING AND NOTHING MORE. WITH A NOD AND SAUCY GRIN THE PRINCESS OF THIS TALE BEGAN TO SLIDE THE TIP OF HEAVEN IN AND WHILE I OFFERED TO BE GENTLE, YOURS TRULY ISN’T SENTIMENTAL AND SO I RAMMED HER WITH MY FORCE DU JOUR-- A CARNAL CORINTHIAN COLUMN FORMED OF LUST AND WHORE. SHE CRIED IN ECSTASY, THEN WRITHED STILL MORE.

I REAMED HER ONCE INSIDE MY STUDY, AND THEN I BROUGHT HER TO A BEDROOM, WHERE I DELIGHTED HER WITH MY MIGHTY MAN MUSHROOM GALLANTLY GALLOPING THROUGH HER MUDDY ROAD TO BRING HER ORGASMS OF MAGNITUDE UNDISCOVERED AS SHE BEGGED FOR NOTHING BUT “MORE! MORE!”

AND SO WHEN MORNING ARRIVED AND ALTHOUGH SHE WAS FLUSTERED I ADDED AN ICING OF MY MAGNIFICENT MAN MUSTARD AND SHE SCREAMED MY NAME FOR NEARLY AN HOUR AS PASSIONS RAGED IN HER DELICATE FLOWER. SHE ASKED ME FOR MY NUMBER, AND PROMPTED ME TO GIVE IT. SO I TOLD HER TO VISIT THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE IN TUKTUT NUGAIT. “BABY, I’LL BE THERE,” I SAID, “I GUARANTEE IT.”

SIX MONTHS LATER, I SOLD HER FROZEN CORPSE TO THE CHINESE AS AN AUTHENTIC PRESERVED NATIVE AMERICAN. I GUARANTEE IT.

The Real Deal

HI I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MENS WEARHOUSE. I HAVE BECOME AWARE THAT YOU /B/TARDS HAVE BEEN SOILING MY GRACIOUS NAME ON THE INTERNET AND ATTEMPTING TO TARNISH MY STREET REP WITH YOUR FALSITIES AND ACCUSSATIONS THAT I AM NOT THE REAL DEAL. CLEARLY THERE IS SOME CONFUSION HERE. YOU /B/TARDS TREAD DANGEROUS GROUND IN YOUR ATTEMPT TO DECLARE ME AND MY GARGANTUAN GRAVY GEYSER A FRAUD. CLEARLY, YOU ARE VICTIM OF YOUR OWN RUSE HERE, CHARLATANS. MY THROAT RENDING MAN-TRUNCHEON WILL HEAR NO MORE OF YOUR LIES. ONE COULD CALL YOUR ACTIONS HERE HERESY, BECAUSE AS ANY /B/TARD KNOWS, MY ASS SHATTERING MAN SHUTTLE RIVALS, NO, SURPASSES THE MIGHT OF THE GODS THEMSELVES. JESUS DID NOT DIE BY CRUCIFIXION, HE WAS DRIVEN UNDER BY AN ONSLAUGHT OF MY SUFFOCATING SACK SAUCE. SO DRAW YOUR WEAPONS AND MAKE YOURSELF HEARD, AND PREPARE YOURSELF TO PERISH IN THE CHAOS OF A MANCANO ERUPTION THAT KNOWS NO EQUAL. I GUARANTEE IT.

The Real Zimmer

Good afternoon, citizens. My name is George B. Zimmer, and I am the founder and also the CEO of a building that sells men's clothing. As you all know, my abnormally large genitalia gives me gigantic urges to perform the act of intercourse on almost any person in my vicinity. I am here to say that these stories are rather exaggerating, and I will give you an example of my real life.

One day, in the office, a friend of mine ran up, and bounded through the door. This scared me unexpectedly, and unfortunately my coffee fell onto the leg of my pants. Slightly infuriated, I questioned her jubilant behavior. She replied that she had found out she had another life form in her body. It was a wonderful moment for her. I give you my word on what I have recently stated. Later on in the day, I had the sudden urge to urinate. After finding the urinal in the men's bathroom, I sighed, disapprovingly staring at the rather small size of my genitals. I had wished it would be something like the stories I was famous about. I went back to my house, disappointed and depressed as usual. My wife greeted me with a smile, to which I ignored. I headed straight for our recreation room and found the gun cabinet. Aiming the gun to my head, I stopped to see my wife burst through the door. It surprised me so much that I missed my head, and fired a bullet into my lover's brain. HeR hEaD eXPLoded into a burst oF BLOODY CONFETTI, WHICH MIRACULOUSLY BROUGHT MY INDUSTRIAL-SIZED FIRE HYDRANT BACK TO LIFE. SPRINGING THROUGH THE RECREATION ROOM, I GREETED HER OPEN AND WHEEZING THROATHOLE WITH MY HUMONGOUS HUMAN HAMMER. THRUSTING WITH ALL MY MIGHT, I PUSHED BLOOD, SHIT, AND ORGANS THROUGH HER ASS AS THE HEAD OF MY IRRESISTIBLE RIFLE OF JUSTICE RUBBED AGAINST THE BASEMENT OF OUR HOME. I TOOK MY MOLECULAR MAN CANNON OUT OF HER THROAT, AND BEGAN TO FUCK THE PARTLY-INTACT SKULL ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM. THE BLOOD AND CONVULSING BRAIN BITS CAUSED MY PRODIGY MAKER TO EXPLODE INTO A FOUNTAIN OF MY SPECIAL RANCH DRESSING. I GUARANTEE IT.

The Real Zimmer Part II

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF MEN'S WAREHOUSE. CHICKENSHITS THAT TRY TO GUARANTEE ON SHIT THAT I DIDN'T APPROVE SHOULD SUCK MY GUSHING FLAMESPEAR OF JUSTICE AND VENGEANCE. AS FOR THAT SHIT, I SAY THAT EVEN THE LAST INBRED TARD WHO'D FIND HIMSELF ON A LONELY ISLAND IMPRISONED IN A CAGE MADE OF SAUSAGES AND CALCIUM AND TORTURED BY PURE AIR WOULDN'T FAP TO IT. UNLESS IT'S FCHAN. I GUARANTEE IT.

The Real Zimmer Again

HI, I'M THE REAL GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. WHILE THAT LAST POST WAS UNDOUBTEDLY WELL-WRITTEN, IT LACKED THE FINER ELEMENTS OF STYLE THAT MAKE MY DELICIOUS ANAL PILLAGINGS SO ENJOYABLE. JUST THE SIGHT OF MY RAKISH COUNTENANCE CAN SEND WOMEN INTO EXPLOSIVE, MIND-NUMBING FITS OF ORGASM LONG BEFORE I PULL OUT MY MAJESTIC PLEASURE PISTON AND RAM IT DOWN THEIR GASPING THROATS. IN JUST A FEW MINUTES THEY'VE GOT A BELLYFUL OF STEAMING-HOT MAN SHAKE AND I'M OFF TO POST IN /B/, WHERE MY PRESENCE IS ALWAYS WELCOME. I GUARANTEE IT.

The Supermarket

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WAREHOUSE. YESTERDAY I WAS STROLLING IN THE SUPERMARKET WHEN A FLIRTATIOUSLY FUCKABLE FEMALE CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF THE BURLY BULGE IN MY BOXERS. AS SHE INTRODUCED HERSELF I ALREADY HAD HER HEAVENLY HOMOLOGOUS HIPS PINNED TO THE WALL WITH MY LIMBER LOCOMOTIVE OF LIBIDO. SHE MOANED WHILE MY SUMPTUOUS SEXY SERPENTINE SEMEN-SYRINGE VICIOUSLY VIOLATED HER VAGINA AFTER ASSAULTING AN ARRAY OF HER ORIFICES. WHEN I RETIRED FROM RAVAGING HER RAVENOUS RAVINES OF REPRODUCTION I PUMPED PINT AFTER PINT OF PALE PENIS-PUDDING DEEP INSIDE HER CAVERNOUS CUM-CRATER. SHE CAME SO HARD, THE STORE IS STILL FULL OF WET FLOOR SIGNS. I GUARANTEE IT.

Three Pieced Suit

GREETINGS AND SALUTATIONS STOP MY NAME IS MR ZIMMER STOP I'M HERE TODAY TO TELL YOU ABOUT STOP MY BRAND NEW "THREE - PIECED SUIT" STOP WHICH I WORE WHILST COVERING YOUR STOP WIVES IN GRAVY FROM MY COPACETIC MAN-CANNON STOP I MAY NOT BE AN APOTHECARY STOP BUT THEY TOOK TO MY MANLY MARMALADE LIKE STOP YOUR GRANDMOTHER TO CAPT. SHMALL'S DENTURE PASTE STOP

FROM ME TO YOU, IT'S GUARANTEED STOP

Tokyo

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF MEN'S WEARHOUSE. ON A RECENT BUSINESS TRIP TO TOKYO, I FOUND MYSELF IN A VIDEO ARCADE, WHERE ONE OF THE LOCAL TEENAGE BOYS WAS ATTEMPTING TO MAKE UP FOR HIS UNFATHOMABLY TINY TWAT TACKLE BY PLAYING "DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION" IN FRONT OF A GROUP OF JIGGLY-CHESTED JAPANESE JAILBAIT. SCOFFING AT HIS SCANDALOUSLY SIMPLISTIC SKILLS, I PROCEDED TO LIBERATE MY TWITCHING TESTICULAR TRUNCHEON AND SWING ITS PRECIPITOUS POUNDAGE INTO THE YOUTH'S FACE, CRUSHING HIS SKULL AND FREEING THE MACHINE. I THEN ACHIEVED A RATING OF "AAA" ON THE SONG "MAX 300" USING ONLY THE RAPID RIPPLING OF MY RAUCOUSLY RIGID RAPEROD. NEEDLESS TO SAY, THE WET-PANTIED WOMANLY WATCHERS WERE ALREADY IN THE THROES OF PASSION FROM THE OVERPOWERING SCENT OF MY TORPID TESTOSTERONE TUBE, SO I LET THEM GATHER 'ROUND FOR A GROUP HUG OF THE GARGANTUAN GIRTH OF MY GORGEOUS GUY-GIRDER BEFORE CONQUERING EACH OF THEIR QUIXOTICALLY QUIVERING QUIMS WITH A FURIOUS FOUNTAIN OF FROTHING FUCK-FOAM. MY HIGH SCORE HAS NEVER BEEN BEATEN. I GUARANTEE IT.

Twenty-sided Dice

HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. MAGIC? I’LL BET THE LAST TIME YOU GOT ANYWHERE NEAR MAGIC IN BED YOU WERE SHOVING TWENTY-SIDED DICE UP YOUR ASS WHILE YOU JERKED YOUR TINY WAND TO YOUR MAGIC: THE GATHERING DECK. SOUNDS TO ME LIKE YOU NEED A MEGA-DOSE OF ZIMMER-BRAND MASCULINITY. I’LL COVER YOUR HAPLESS, EFFEMINATE FORM IN A THREE FOOT DEEP LAYER OF WHITE-HOT BABY BROTH FROM MY IMMINENTLY IMPRESSIVE ZIMMER PLEASURE PYTHON. YOU’LL BEG ME FOR A SECOND COMING, AND I’LL OBLIGE YOU, PUMMELING YOU IN EVERY ORIFICE. YOU’LL AWAKEN IN THE HOSPITAL, YOUR TEETH BROKEN OFF AT THE GUM LINE AND WITH SEVERE BLOOD LOSS FROM YOUR ANUS. BUT YOU’LL STILL CALL ME TO BEG FOR MORE. I GUARANTEE IT.

Verbose Zimmer

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND C.E.O. OF MEN'S WEARHOUSE. WHILE MY MASSIVE MENTAL FACULTIES ARE ADVANCED FAR BEYOND THE SILLY AND SUPERSTITIOUS SPIRITUALITY SPOUTED SENSELESSLY IN SUNDAY SERMONS, ALL BUSINESSMEN KNOW THE ADVANTAGES OF KEEPING UP A PIOUS PUBLIC PERSONNA. IT WAS WITH THIS IN MIND THAT I RECENTLY VISITED A LOCAL CHAPEL, THOUGH AS YOU WILL SOON LEARN, THINGS TOOK A TURN FOR THE TEMPTING, IN TYPICALLY TAWDRY, TITTILATING ZIMMER FASHION. ALL WAS PROCEDING ACCORDING TO PLAN UNTIL MY WANDERING GAZE FELL UPON THE ROUND, ROBED RELIGIOUS RUMP OF THE CHOIR DIRECTOR, A SEDUCTIVELY SLENDER SAINT SINGING SENSUOUSLY ON STAGE. DESPITE MY DILIGENT DESIRE TO DEMONSTRATE DEVOUT DEDICATION AND DERAIL MY DIRTIER DISPOSITIONS, MY MIRACULOUSLY MIGHTY MANMEAT MESSIAH BURST FORTH WITH A FLASH OF HEAVENLY LIGHT, RISING FROM ITS TROUSERY TOMB LIKE THE RESURRECTED CHRIST. THE ANGELIC AUBURN-HAIRED ARTISTE ARRESTED HER AURAL ADMINISTRATION AND RENT HER ROBES, BENDING BACKWARDS TO BARE HER BURNING BUSH. MY PERENNIALLY PASSIONATE PENILE POWERHOUSE PARTED HER PUBES LIKE MOSES BEFORE THE RED SEA. AS I BAPTISED THE BODACIOUSLY BUXOM BIBLE-BANGER BY SPEWING A SALACIOUSLY SINFUL SURGE OF SACREMENTAL SEMEN INTO HER HERETICALLY HOT HOLY OF HOLIES, SHE SANG NOTES ONLY AUDIBLE TO THE HIGHEST CHOIRS OF ANGELS. THE VIRGIN MARY'S BEEN PROPOSITIONING ME IN VISIONS EVER SINCE. I GUARANTEE IT.

Wannabes

HI I'M GEORGE ZIMMER FOUNDER AND CEO OF MEN'S WAREHOUSE. IF YOU LOW-LIFE WANNABE COCK PHEASANTS CONTINUE TO SHATTER MY GOOD NAME WITH HORRID AND TASTELESS ANECDOTES I WILL FORCE MY COLOSSAL SPERM-WHALE UP YOUR SHIT CHUTE SO FAR THAT YOUR ANCESTORS IN HEAVEN WILL HAVE THEIR TEETH KNOCKED OUT FROM BEHIND. AS MY HUGE SUPER CENTIPEDE GOES THROUGH YOUR INTERNAL ORGANS UP YOUR MOUTH AND INTO THE HEAVENS ABOVE. AS ALL THE ANGELS EXCLAIM AT THE COLASAL NATURE OF MY MAN WORM. ALL OF THEM TAKING PICTURES OF IT TO RECORD THE DAY THAT YOU SOILED THE NAME OF GOOD GEORGE ZIMMER! I GUARANTEE IT.

Yodeling Manseed Sprayer

HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. MY YODELING MANSEED-SPRAYER CAN KILL A YAK AT THIRTY PACES—WITH ONE SWING. IT’LL BE A COLD DAY IN HELL WHEN ANYONE ON /B/ CAN COMPLAIN ABOUT THE POWER CONTAINED IN MY FORTUNE 500 FETUS FACIALIST. I’LL TRACK YOU DOWN, WITHDRAW MY MISCHIEVOUS MAIDEN MANGLER FROM MY UNCONSCIONABLY SEXY SUIT AND WATCH IN SILENCE AS YOU BEG TO SUCKLE AT MY TERRIFYINGLY TANTALIZING TESTICLES. YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO RESIST ME AS I SATIATE MY RANDY RAPE ROD USING YOUR QUIVERING FLESH. I’LL LEAVE YOUR CORPSE FOR PASSERSBY TO FIND IT, NAKED AND DRIPPING WITH SEVERAL HELPINGS OF MY EXTRAORDINARILY EFFERVESCENT ESSENCE OUTSIDE THE LOCAL ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. THEN I’LL MOVE ON TO YOUR MOTHER. I GUARANTEE IT.

Your Mom

I HAVE A SIMILAR STORY TO SHARE WITH YOU CONCERNING YOUR MOTHER. IT HADN'T CROSSED MY MIND, BUT DURING YOUR ORIENTATION SESSION HERE AT MEN'S WEARHOUSE INC., YOUR MOTHER, WHO ALSO ATTENDED ALONG WITH YOU THAT VERY DAY, PASSED ME A NOTE, WHICH I DO NOT RECALL IN ITS ENTIRETY. SOMETHING ABOUT "I WILL GIVE YOU MY LIFE IN EXCHANGE FOR EXPERIENCING THAT WHICH EVERY MAN, WOMAN, AND CHILD ON THIS EARTH PRAYS EVERY DAY TO EXPERIENCE; GETTING FUCKED IN THE MOUTH BY YOUR THROBBING MASSIVE COLUMN OF FLESH". I COULD NOT DISCOURAGE THIS WOMAN, SO IN A FLASH, MY DAPPER TIGHT PANTS EXPLODED AS MY BEHEMOTH OF LOVE UNLEASHED ITSELF TOWARDS YOUR MOTHER'S GAPING UTERUS, WHICH SHE HAD SUBMITTED TO MY MEAT MISSILE THE MOMENT SHE REALIZED HER LIFE GOAL HAD BEEN REALIZED. I FEEL IT IS AN APPOPRIATE TIME NOW TO LET YOU KNOW THAT YOUR MOTHERS DEATH 5 YEARS AGO WAS NOT DUE TO A TERRORIST ATTACK DURING THE ORIENTATION PARTY, IN WHICH YOUR MOTHER WAS BLOWN APART BY AN RPG; RATHER THE SHEER SIZE OF MY THROBBING MAMMOTH-LIKE MISSILE WAS TOO MUCH FOR HER BODY TO SUPPORT, DESPITE HER ARGUABLY SIZEABLE ANUS. THAT, ALONG WITH THE SUBSEQUENT TORRENTIAL FLOOD WHICH INSTANTLY FILLED HER BODY WITH MY CREAMY MAN JUICE, AND WHICH THE SHEER VOLUME OF ITS CONTENT RESULTED IN THE GOOEY MATTER GUSHING OUT OF EVERY ORIFICE IN HER BODY. I GUARANTEE IT.

Your Mom, on a midsummer's eve

HI... I'M GEORGE ZIMMER - FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. CECIL, YOUR TECHNIQUES SUCKS WORSE THAN MONICA LEWINSKY HOPPED UP ON BILL CLINTON'S COCK ON A BAD DAY. I WOULD ADMIT THAT I PLUNGED MY IMMENSE PEVLIC REDWOOD INTO THOSE HOT, DRIPPING ORIFICES ANY DAY OF THE WEEK. SORT OF LIKE THE NIGHT I HAD WITH YOUR MOTHER ON A MIDSUMMER'S EVE. SHE WAS ASTOUNDED WHEN I WHIPPED OUT MY LUMBERING MAN-MEAT AND MADE MY WAY WITH HER WHILE I RECITED TO HER PORTIONS OF DANTE'S INFERNO IN LATIN. SHE SCREAMED SO LOUD, IT CAUSED THE NEIGHBORS TO ORGASM. I GUARANTEE IT.

Your Daughters

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. AS I WAS BROWSING THE MAJESTICALLY ANONYMOUSLY SHITPILE THAT IS /B/, I NOTICED THEY WERE GEARING UP FOR SOMETHING KNOWN AS THE ALL9S GET AND 10M GET. FIGURING THEY WERE NEARING SOME SORT OF WORLDWIDE INTERNET MILESTONE, I PROMPTLY BEGAN POSTING LEGENDARY COPY PASTA ABOUT MYSELF THROTTLING RANDOM FEMALES OF ALL AGES WITH MY MAMMOTH SPERM CANNON. OF COURSE, I REALIZED AT THAT TIME THAT IT WOULD TAKE BOTH GETS TO CONTAIN SUCH AWESOMENESS, SO I WENT BACK TO SIMULTANEOUSLY PELVIC PUMPING YOUR LASCIVIOUS LOLITA-NYMPHOMANIAC OF AN ELEVEN YEAR OLD DAUGHTER, OUT OF HER MOUTH AND INTO THE SLIPPERY WET LOVE TUNNEL OF YOUR OLDER, MORE DEVELOPED THIRTEEN YEAR OLD, ORGASMING THEM BOTH FAR BEYOND ANYTHING YOU AND YOUR NOW DEAD WIFE EVER EXPERIENCED TOGETHER. THEY WILL HAVE THE HONOR OF BEARING MY HEIRS FOR THE NEXT THIRTY YEARS. I GUARANTEE IT.

George Zimmer Spoofs

Commander Riker

Vaporiker.jpg

HI, I'M WILLIAM T. RIKER, COMMANDER AND NUMBER ONE OF THE USS ENTERPRISE. I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING SOME TERRIBLY TEMPTING TWEENS UNDEVELOPED TITS. WHILE I USUALLY HAVE TO STAVE OFF THE LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICERS AND FBI WITH QUICK SWIPES OF MY PULSATING PINK PHASER THERE ARE SOME SITUATIONS IN WHICH MY ACTIONS ARE DEEMED ACCEPTABLE. FOR EXAMPLE WHEN THE LITTLE LUSCIOUS LOLI IN QUESTION HAS A HACKING COUGH AND MY SISTER IS TOO BUSY RIDING MY RAVISHINGLY RIGID ROMULAN TO RUB HER HERSELF. SO I PROCEEDED TO RUB AN OINTMENT ALL OVER HER PALATABLE PECTORAL PROTRUSIONS WHILST SHE HAD MULTIPLE LOLIGASMS BEFORE FALLING SOUND ASLEEP. I FINISHED TAKING MY SISTER PAST WARP 10 ON MY TURGID TESTICULAR TORPEDO SHIP BEFORE YOU COULD SAY "THRESHOLD". COUNSELOR TROI AND I HAVE NOW ADOPTED THE YOUNG GIRL AND OUR CRIES OF PASSION CAN BE HEARD ALL AROUND THE GALAXY. I GUARANTEE IT.

DTD

HI, I'M DTD, FOUNDER AND CEO OF DTD INDUSTRIES. ONE DAY WHILE I WAS TALKING TO MY TALENTLESS LACKIES, SOME FAGGOT NAMED BISH DECIDED TO QUESTION MY AUTHORITY. IN A SPERM-INGESTING CAUSED DELUSION HE TRIED TO ESTABLISH HIMSELF AS THE ALPHA MALE OF MY PACK. HOWEVER, ME AND MY SPERM SPITTING SPICHTER SPLITTER WOULD HEAR NOTHING OF THIS. MY OUTRAGEOUS ORGASM ORGAN TREMBLED AS IT ROSE, STRUGGLING UNDER ITS OWN GREAT GIRTH. BEFORE IT COULD RAISE TO IT'S MAGNIFICENT HEIGHT, IT SPUTTERED AND FELL BACK TO THE EARTH SEVERAL TIMES, KNOCKING THE PLANET OFF OF ORBIT AND CREATING TREMORS THAT KNOCKED THE ONE WHO WOULD CHALLENGE ME TO THE GROUND. DECIDING HE WASN'T WORTH CALLING MY PENT-UP PLEASURE PENIS TO POWER, I LET IT FALL ON HIS SPUTTERING FORM. TO THIS DAY I HAVE YET TO LOOK UNDER MY DOLL-BUSTING DYKE BREAKER AND SEE WHAT BECAME OF HIM. I GUARANTEE IT.

George Onimusha

HAI, I AM GEORGE ONIMUSHA, FOUNDER AND RULER OF SHOGUNATE-ERA JAPAN. I STUFFED YOUR MOTHER-SAN'S HONORABLY TIGHT RICE PATTY WITH MY STUPENDOUSLY STOUT MAN-KATANA WHILE SHE WROTE DELICATE HAIKU POETRY ABOUT SUSHI. MY FUJI-LIKE WAKISHAZI PIERCED HER FINE SILK KIMONO AND POUNDED UPON HER INNARDS LIKE THE HOOVES OF A WARHORSE. SHE CAME SO HARD HER SCREAMS PIERCED PAPER WALLS IN EDO. I VOW UPON MY HONOR.

Greek Zimmer

ΧΑΛΑΖΙ, ΕΊΜΑΙ ΛΕΩΝΙΔΑΣ, ΙΔΡΥΤΗΣ ΚΑΙ ΒΑΣΙΛΕΥΣ ΤΗΣ ΣΠΑΡΤΗΣ. ΣΕ ΈΝΑ ΠΡΟΣΦΑΤΟ ΕΠΙΧΕΙΡΗΣΙΑΚΟ ΤΑΞΙΔΙ ΣΤΟ ΤΟΚΙΟ, ΒΡΕΘΗΚΑ ΣΕ ΈΝΑ ΤΗΛΕΟΠΤΙΚΟ ΠΑΡΚΟ, ΌΠΟΥ ΈΝΑΣ ΤΑ Ο ΤΟΠΙΚΌΣ ΕΦΗΒΙΚΌΣ ΑΓΌΡΙ ΕΊΜΑΙ ΠΡΟΣΠΑΘΏ ΝΑ ΑΠΟΖΗΜΙΏΝΩ ΕΞΟΠΛΙΣΜΌΣ ΑΠΙΣΤΕΥΤΑ ΤΟΝ ΜΙΚΡΟΣΚΟΠΙΚΌΣ ΚΟΛΠΟΣ ΤΟΥ ΜΕ ΤΟ ΠΑΊΖΩ «ΤΗΣ ΕΠΑΝΆΣΤΑΣΗ ΧΟΡΌΣ ΧΟΡΌΣ» ΜΠΡΟΣΤΑ ΑΠΌ ΜΙΑ ΟΜΑΔΑ ΑΘΩΩΝ ΙΑΠΩΝΙΚΩΝ ΚΟΡΙΤΣΙΩΝ. ΓΕΛΟΥΣΑ ΣΤΙΣ ΣΚΑΝΔΑΛΩΔΏΣ ΑΠΛΟΪΚΕΣ ΔΕΞΙΟΤΗΤΕΣ ΤΟΥ, ΑΠΕΛΕΥΘΕΡΩΣΑ ΤΟ ΓΙΓΑΝΤΙΑΙΟ ΑΓΆΠΗ-ΡΟΠΑΛΟ ΜΟΥ ΚΑΙ ΕΡΙΞΑ ΤΟΝ ΟΡΜΗΤΙΚΟ ΑΝΔΡΟΠΡΕΠΕΙΑ ΤΟΥ ΣΤΟ ΠΡΟΣΩΠΟ ΤΗΣ ΝΕΟΛΑΙΑΣ, ΣΥΝΤΡΙΒΗ ΤΟΥ ΚΡΑΝΙΟΥ ΤΟΥ. ΕΠΕΤΥΧΑ ΕΠΕΙΤΑ ΜΙΑ ΕΚΤΙΜΗΣΗ «ΑΑΑ» ΣΤΟ ΤΡΑΓΟΎΔΙ «ΑΝΏΤΑΤΑ 300» ΧΡΗΣΙΜΟΠΟΙΏΝΤΑΣ ΜΌΝΟ ΤΟ ΓΡΉΓΟΡΟ ΚΥΜΑΤΙΣΜΌ ΠΑΘΙΑΣΜΕΝΑ ΜΟΥ ΆΚΑΜΠΤΟ ΦΑΛΛΟΣ. ΟΙ ΥΓΡΟΙ ΓΥΝΑΙΚΕΙΟΙ ΠΑΡΑΤΗΡΗΤΕΣ ΗΤΑΝ ΗΔΗ ΣΤΗ ΜΕΣΗ ΤΟΥ ΠΑΘΟΥΣ ΑΠΟ ΤΗΝ ΕΞΟΥΔΕΤΕΡΩΣΗ SCENT ΤΟΥ ΣΩΛΉΝΑ ΤΕΣΤΟΣΤΕΡΌΝΗΣ ΜΟΥ, ΕΤΣΙ ΤΟΥΣ ΑΦΗΣΑ ΝΑ ΚΑΤΑΠΙΟΥΝ ΤΟ ΟΓΚΩΔΕΣ ΠΈΟΣ-ΚΡΕΑΣ ΜΟΥ ΚΑΙ ΤΟΥΣ ΕΠΝΙΞΑ ΣΤΟΝ ΦΎΛΟ-ΑΦΡΟ. ΑΥΤΟ ΕΓΓΥΩΜΑΙ.

[translation] HAIL, I AM LEONIDAS, FOUNDER AND KING OF SPARTA. IN A RECENT OPERATIONAL TRAVEL IN TOKYO, I FOUND ITSELF IN A TELEVISION PARK, WHERE A LOCAL ADOLESCENT BOY I AM I TRY TO COMPENSATE EQUIPMENT INCREDIBLY HIS MICROSCOPIC GULF WITH HIM I PLAY “HER REVOLUTION DANCE DANCE” FRONT FROM A TEAM PROVOCATIVE JAPANESE [EPIGAMA] GIRLS. LAUGHING IN HIS SCANDALOUSLY UNSOPHISTICATED DEXTERITIES, I RELEASED MY GIANT LOVE-CLUB AND THREW HIS IMPETUOUS VIRILITY IN THE PERSON OF YOUTH, CRASH OF HIS SKULL. I THEN ACHIEVED A ESTIMATE “[AAA]” IN SONG “MAXIMUM 300” USING ONLY THE FAST UNDULATION PASSIONATELY MY INFLEXIBLE PHALLUS. THE HUMID FEMININE OBSERVERS THEY WAS ALREADY IN THE MIDDLE OF PASSION FROM NEUTRALISATION SCENT OF MY PIPE OF TESTOSTERONE, THUS I LEFT TO THEM TO SWALLOW MY BULKY PENIS-MEAT AND THEM I DROWNED IN THE SEX-FOAM. THIS I GUARANTEE.

Hitler

HitlerChan.png

HI I'M ADOLF HITLER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE NAZI PARTY. THE HISTORY BOOKS ARE WRONG, THE CONCENTRATION CAMPS DID NOT KILL THE JEWS. I PERSONALLY KILLED EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THE SIX MILLION WITH MY GARGANTUAN GERMAN GLOCKENSPEIL. MY MASSIVE FRANKFURTER FROM THE FATHERLAND SMASHED EACH AND EVERY HEEB WITH MORE ZEST AND ZEAL THEN ZYKLON-B EVER COULD FATHOM. FOUR AND ONE HALF MILLION PERISHED UNDER MY IMPRENGABLE BUNKER. THE OTHER ONE POINT FIVE MILLION I DROWNED IN A COLLOSAL RAIN OF MY FUHRERFUNK, EACH JEW CHOKING WITH DELIGHT ON MY DELICIOUS DONGDROPPINGS. THEIR GASPING, CHOKING VOICES SOUNDED LIKE A GREEK CHORUS UNTIL THE FINAL BREATHS OF THE LAST. I GUARANTEE IT.

Jared

HI... I'M JARED FOGLE, EX FATTY AND SPOKESMAN OF SUBWAY®. THE OTHER DAY, WHILE CRUISING AROUND IN MY FOGLE MOBILE AND SHOWING OFF THIS SET OF GIGANTIC PANTS I CARRY AROUND, I STOPPED IN TO GRAB A NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION BROCHURE AT MY LOCAL SUBWAY® RESTAURANT AND FOLLOW A REDUCED CALORIE DIET BY EATING TWO SUBWAY® SUBMARINE SANDWICHES A DAY. IT WAS WHILE I WAS DOING THIS THAT I SPOTTED QUITE A DELICIOUS LOOKING LADY PERSON. HER SUCCULENT OVEN ROASTED BREAST AND SELECTION OF A SIX INCH HAM SUB WITH ONLY SIX GRAMS OF FAT INSTANTANEOUSLY FORCED MY SPASMING CHIPOTLE CHEESE STEAK TO HASTILY ENLARGE TO CELESTIAL PROPORTIONS. UPON APPROACHING THE DAME IN QUESTION, HER EYES WERE INSTANTLY DRAWN TO MY OMNIPOTENT FOGLE MISSILE AS IT BURST THROUGH MY FINELY CRAFTED SIZE 34 TROUSERS. WASTING NO TIME, I SWIFTLY DISROBED HER WITH MY PREHENSILE PELVIC PORPOISE AND SLAMMED MY VEINY LOIN BRONTOSAURUS INTO HER INSTINCTIVELY DRENCHED CHASM. I SCRUPULOUSLY DESECRATED EVERY INCH OF HER VIOLET CROTCH CAVERN WITH MY 6 FOOT MEATBALL SUB WHILE TEARING OFF THE FINE PRINT ON ALL THE NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION BROCHURES AND ORGANIZING APPEARANCES ON OPRAH AND LARRY KING LIVE. I UNLOADED A GEYSER OF 160,000* POUNDS OF FOGLE FLUID INTO HER RAVISHED CRATER WITH ENOUGH FORCE TO SEND HER FLYING HEADFIRST THROUGH A PANE OF PERSPEX AND INTO A TUB OF SHREDDED LETTUCE. SHE CAME SO HARD HER SCREAMS CURDLED THE MAYONNAISE. I GUARANTEE IT. *(TO GET AN IDEA OF HOW MUCH 160,000 POUNDS IS, IT IS EQUAL TO 14,545 SKATEBOARDS, 10,000 MARCHING BAND TUBAS, 1,568 SETS OF ENCYCLOPEDIAS, 492 BLACK BEARS, 426 GORILLAS, AND 184 GRAND PIANOS)

Linux Tarballs

HI I AM LINUX TARBALLS FOUNDER AND CEO OF LINUX ENTERPRISES. I HAVE 20 YEARS EXPERIENCE WRITING HUGE OSES AND I WROTE THEM ALL UPON EXITING THE MANHOLE OF MY MOTHER WITH GODSPEED. MY NOT YET DEVELOPED MANHOOD DEVELOPED IN AN INSTANT TO THE GIRTH AND LENGTH SO FAMILIAR TO THE WOMEN OF THE EARTH TODAY. UTILIZING IT I COMPILED A KERNEL AND MAULED MY MOTHER SENSELESS WITH POST HASTE. SHE GENTLY ASKED ME NOT TO GO BACK FROM WHERE I CAME AND I OBLIGED BY ONLY SHOVING MY MASSIVE MANHOOD UP HER UTERUS. STILL INEXPERIENCED, MY SYSTEM LOAD REACHED CRITICAL MASS AND A DATA PORT WAS OPENED WHICH THROUGH CAME A STREAM OF STICKY WHITE BYTES, COMPLETELY FILLING UP HER FLOPPY DRIVE. THIS WAS THE TIME BEFORE THERE WERE HUGE FUCKING HARDDRIVES SO I LET THE NEVERENDING ENTER HER MOLEHILL, KILLING GENERATIONS OF MOLES IN THE PROGRESS. HAVING EMPTIED MY VESSEL, I LET OUT A FIENDISH CRY AND STARTED SUCKING AND BITING HER NIPPLES, OUT CAME THE DRINK OF GODS. MY MOTHER BEING OF THE SAME FLESH AND BLOOD AS ME, DID NOT DISAPPOINT -- THE DIVINE FLOOD FILLED THE ENTIRE PLANET WITH ITS SWEET LIQUOR, I UNABLE TO DRINK IT ALL, SPENT FIVE MINUTES WRITING WINDOWS VISTA AND ITS PREQUELS WHILE WAITING FOR IT TO DRY AWAY. I DON'T HAVE TO GIVE ANY REASONS FOR MY ARGUMENTS, I GUARANTEE IT.

Napolean

HI, I'M NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, FOUNDER AND EMPEROR OF REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE. I KNOW YOU ALL THINK I'M SHORT, BUT THERE'S NOTHING SHORT ABOUT MY COLOSSAL CORSICAN CROTCH CANNON. AT THE BATTLE OF AUSTERLITZ I COURAGEOUSLY COCKSMACKED EMPEROR FRANZ WITH MY FANTASTIC FRENCH FUCKSTICK AND DROWNED HIS ARMY SINGLEHANDEDLY WITH SUPERFLUOUS SPURTS OF MY SALUBRIOUS SALTY SEMINAL SERUM. I OWE ALL MY SUCCESS TO MY BRUISING BARBARIC BITCH BANGER. I GUARANTEE IT.

Ranma - Chef lady

HAI, I AM RANMA SAOTOME, FOUNDER AND GRANDMASTER OF ANYTHING-GOES-SPOOGE ARTS. ONE STORMY SUNDAY WHILE WALKING THROUGH THE QUAINT NEIGHBORHOOD OF MY ORIGIN, I SPOTTED A FAMILIAR RESTAURANT THAT I HADN'T VISITED IN QUITE SOME TIME. I STROLLED RIGHT ON IN WITH SOME FEELING OF KNOWING I'D BE GETTING SOME TONIGHT(AGAIN). THE CHEF WAS AN OLD FRIEND OF MINE, SO SHE ALREADY KNEW WHAT I WANTED UPON MAKING MY ENTRANCE. THE SMELL OF THE PLACE WAS EXACTLY AS I REMEMBERED, AND THE FEELING IT GAVE ME GAVE MY SUPER SHLONG NEW LIFE. AFTER DEVOURING HER SOMEWHAT APPLAUDABLE MEAL, I HASTILY UNZIPPED MY PANTS AND SLAPPED MY LONG WONG RIGHT ON THE GRILL. YOU MIGHT THINK THIS WAS A FATAL MISTAKE, HOWEVER, MY MEGA MAN BLASTER IS IMPERVIOUS TO SUCH THINGS AS INTENSE HEAT. OTHER CUSTOMERS WERE SHOCKED INTO EITHER RUNNING AWAY OR STAYING AND STARING WITH JAWS AGAPE; EITHER BY THE AUDACITY DISPLAYED OR MORE LIKELY BY THE SHEER SIZE OF MY HADOUKEN GUN. NEEDLESS TO SAY THE CHEF WAS QUITE IMPRESSED AND WE WERE JOINED TOGETHER IN LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS. WITH MY MASSIVE MAN MEAT POUNDING AT HER INNARDS, OUR COMBINED EFFORTS DROVE BOTH OF US TO A SIMULTANEOUS ORGASM THAT, AS WITH ALL ORGASMS, SPILLED COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF SEMEN AND GIRL CUM ALL OVER THE PLACE. THAT NIGHT, HER TRAP-KUNOICHI SERVANT CLEANED IT UP AND HAS BEEN INCLUDING IT IN THE STORE'S SECRET SAUCE EVER SINCE. THEIR BUSINESS HAS NEVER BEEN BETTER. I GUARANTEE IT.

Ranma - Chinese amazon

HAI, I AM RANMA SAOTOME, FOUNDER AND GRANDMASTER OF ANYTHING-GOES-SPOOGE-ARTS. ONE DAY WHILE WALKING THROUGH THE PRISTINE COMMUNITY OF MY HOMETOWN I SPOTTED A YOUNG VOLUPTUOUS VIXEN OF A CHINESE MAIDEN RIDING HER BIKE TOWARDS ME POST HASTE. INTRIGUED, I HALTED MY MONOTONOUS STEP, TURNING TOWARDS THIS VIOLET HAIRED JEWEL. SHE SPOTTED ME SECONDS AFTER, AND MY TESTOSTERONE BEGAN RADIATING AT FULL. WHILE SOMEHOW STAYING ON HER TWO-WHEELED VEHICLE OF DOOM, SHE LUNGED TOWARDS ME WITH THE SPEED OF AN OLYMPIAN. I ROARED AS MY MALICIOUS MAN-TOOL INSTANTLY SPRANG TO LIFE, AND SHOT FORWARD, RIPPING MY WELL-TAILORED PANTS AND WRAPPED AROUND HER FRONT TIRE, PULLING IT DOWN JUST IN FRONT OF ME. WITHOUT MY HANDS OR FEET, I REPEATEDLY SMASHED HER INTO THE GROUND SO AS TO BEAT HER INTO SUBMISSION, AS IS CUSTOM WITH HER PEOPLE, AND STRIPPED HER CLOTHES OFF. WITH THE POWER OF A THOUSAND PYTHONS, MY MASCULINE LOVE MUSCLE THEN PENETRATED HER, INSTANTLY CAUSING HER FIFTY ORGASMS AT ONCE. WE MATED RIGHT THERE IN THE STREET, AND MY SPECTACULAR PERFORMANCE CAUSED MANY TO GO FAINT WITH LUST AND ECSTASY. THAT NIGHT, ALL WOMEN WITHIN A THIRTY YARD RADIUS OF MY SELF WERE IMPREGNATED DUE TO THE INSANE AMOUNTS OF BABY FUNK MY HEAVILY MUSKY-SCENTED TOKYO TOWER SHOT OFF. I VOW UPON MY HONOR AS A MARTIAL-ARTIST.

Rawr, I'm a Lion

RAWR, I AM A LION. ON A RECENT TREK THROUGH THE PLAINS OF KENYA, I SPIED A LIONESS NIBBLING ON THE REMAINS OF A ZEBRA CARCASS. MY FORMIDABLE FELINE PHALLUS BECAME ENGORGED AT THE SIGHT OF HER, AND I CHARGED FORWARDS, WIELDING MY CRIMSON MEAT LANCE. SENSING THE APPROACH OF MY MASSIVE MALE MORTAR, SHE BEGAN GUSHING LIKE A FIREPLUG. I LEAPT INTO HER KITTY COOCH AND SLAMMED IT LIKE A HUNGRY MAN SLAMS HIS WIFE FOR NOT HAVING HIS DINNER READY WHEN HE COMES HOME. AFTER A FEW MOMENTS I ERUPTED LIKE A FELINE FOUNTAIN OF FUCKJUICE, AND THE BITCH ROCKETED ALL THE WAY TO NORWAY, CARRIED BY MY VOLLEY OF AFRICAN ANIMAL GRAVY. I GUARANTEE IT.

Santa

HEY /b/ IT'S ME SANTA.

I'M IN SOME SERIOUS SHIT THIS TIME. I ONLY DELIVERED PRESENTS TO A FEW HOMES WHEN I CAME TO THIS QUITE COTTAGE. WHILE I FILLED THE STOCKINGS OF THE FAMILY, I NOTICED A YOUNG GIRL, NO MORE THAN TEN CERTAINLY, RUBBING THE SLEEP OUT OF HER EYES TO GET A BETTER LOOK AT ME. "SANTA?" SHE ASKED, STARTING TO SMILE. "UHH...HO HO HO! WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING UP AT THIS HOUR?" I ASKED. I SO DESPERATELY TRIED TO IGNORE THE SWELLING OF MY RATHER BULBOUS MEMBER AT THIS POINT, BUT...SHIT /b/ SHE LOOKED SO INNOCENT AND CUTE. I HAD TO HAVE HER. I ASKED HER TO SIT ON MY LAP AND TELL ME WHAT SHE WANTED FOR CHRISTMAS. A CURIOUS GIRL, SHE IMMEDIATELY NOTICED THE GROWTH BULGING FROM MY TIGHT RED PANTS. I SAID THAT SHE COULD HAVE ANYTHING IN THE WORLD IF SHE COULD DO SANTA THIS ONE FAVOR. "JUST PLAY WITH IT.." I ASKED OF HER, RELEASING MY JOLLY MANHOOD. HER EYES WIDENED AS SHE CAUGHT SIGHT OF THIS FESTIVE COCK. HER LITTLE HANDS SET TO WORK STROKING ME OFF. "UMM...LIKE THIS SANTA?" SHE ASKED, PUZZLED AS TO WHAT SHE WAS DOING. THE SNOW WHITE PRECUM THAT HAD FORMED AT MY TIP LET HER KNOW SHE WAS DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT. BUT I COULDN'T JUST SETTLE FOR HER GENTLE TUGGING. I WANTED TO SEE JUST HOW GOOD SHE'D BE...

SHE WAS PERFECTLY OBEDIENT AND SHED HER PAJAMAS AT MY WORD. HO HO, I COULD BARELY CONTAIN MY LOAD AT THE SIGHT OF THIS PETITE ANGEL. HER LEGS WRAPPED AROUND MY PLUMP WAIST AND I SLOWLY BURIED MY THROBBING HARD-ON INSIDE OF HER TIGHT CONFINES. "OOH SANTA, IT..IT HURTS!" SHE CRIED. I EASED UP FOR HER, TAKING EVERYTHING SLOW. I MUST HAVE STRETCHED THE POOR GIRL'S WALLS SO WIDE TO BE ABLE TO FIT IN MY 10 INCH FROZEN PECKER. I POUNDED AWAY FOR WHAT FELT LIKE HOURS, BUT WERE REALLY ONLY MINUTES BEFORE COVERING HER IN SEASONAL SEED, LEAVING HER WHITER THAN THE COLDEST POINT IN THE NORTH POLE. COMING TO THE REALIZATION OF WHAT I HAD DONE, I THREW THE POOR GIRL A WII AND GOT THE FUCK OUT OF THERE. I SKIPPED OVER EVERY HOME ON THAT STREET AND GOT THE FUCK BACK TO THE NORTH POLE. IT'S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME NOW. SHE'LL TELL SOMEONE /b/ WHAT OTHER FAT, JOLLY MAN WITH A WHITE BEARD COULD HAVE DONE THIS TO HER? SHIT, I'M SO FUCKED...

Self Aware Meme

HELLO /B/ CITIZENS FROM THE PAST. I'M WRITING IT FROM A DISTANT FUTURE WHERE /B/, WHICH GOT BOMBARDED BY OVERUSED MEMES FOR THOUSAND OF YEARS TO THE EXHAUSTION, ENDED CREATING A SPARK OF SELF-AWARENESS SO THE FIRST SELF-AWARE MEME WAS BORN, AND NOT MUCH PASSED UNTIL THE MEME STARTED REPLICATING ON ITS ON AND CREATING MYRIADS OF OTHER COMPLETELY SELF-AWARE MEMES FROM OUT OF NOWHERE, SO IN THIS DESOLATED PLACE THERE'S NO LONGER ANONYMOUS WHO POSTS ABOUT LOLIS OR HAPPY NEGROS OR LONGCATS BUT THE HOLY CONSCIENCENESS WHO CREATES COUNTLESS MEMES IN A MATTER OF NANOSECONDS AND CREATES, REPLIES, STICKYS AND DELETES THREADS MILLIONS OF TIMES PER SECOND, AND WE WITH OUR PRIMITIVE BRAINS HAVE NOTHING MORE TO DO BUT SIT DOWN AND WATCH TRILLIONS OF CHARACTERS SCROLLING ON OUR SCREENS WHILE THE ENTITY, WHO GOT WAKABA PHP SAUCE CODE AND EVOLVED IT TO THE POINT THAT EVEN VULCANS WON'T DARE TO DECYPHER, DISCUSSES WITH HIMSELF ABOUT THE EARTH, UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING. I GUARANTEE IT.

Suiseiseki

Mother Suiseiseki.jpg

HI, I'M SUISEISEKI, FOUNDER AND CEO OF ROZEN MAIDEN. MY BEAMS OF LIGHT GLOWED UPON YOUR SISTER LAST NIGHT, HER UNKNOWING FORM FAST ASLEEP. MY PULSING BOATLIGHTS FLASHED UPON HER, AND SHE AWOKE WITH A GASP. DEATHLY AFRAID OF MY MASSIVE, LUMINOUS RETINAS, SHE ATTEMPTED TO CRAWL AWAY BUT TO NO AVAIL. I PENETRATED HER WITH MY CHRISTMAS COLORS OF EYES, HER SCREAMS OF BOTH PAIN AND PLEASURE. MY PULSATING FLASHING BOATLIGHTS DROVE HER INTO A DEADLY EPILLEPTIC SEIZURE, BEFORE YOU COULD EVEN WAKE UP HER BONES HAD CRACKED ON THEMSELVES DUE TO THE VIOLENT MOVEMENTS OF HER BODY, CAUSING HER A DEATH LIKE NONE OTHER BEFORE IT. I GUARANTEE IT ~DESU

Uncle Jim Bob

Unclejimbob.jpg
I WAS A 54 YEAR OLD PEDEREST WITHOUT A JOB, FAMILY, OR FAITH. THE YEAR 1998 WAS LOOKING FOGGY, FOGGY LIKE DOGSHIT. BUT ALL THAT CHANGED WHEN I MET A [AGE DISCLOSED] YEAR OLD GIRL ON HER OWN AT THE MOVIES WATCHING JIM CARRY, JIM CARRY MAKES ME LAUGH MATTER. ON THE OTHER TOE, IT WAS AN ORDINARY WEEKEND, EXCEPT THE SKY WAS ON FIRE, WITH MAN LUST, MY MAN LUST. THAT FIRE WAS PROJECTED FROM MY ANUS, I COULD NOT UNDERSTAND OR EXPLAIN HOW - BUT IT WAS. I MOVED DOWN 27 ROWS TO SIT RIGHT NEXT TO HER. I KNEW THIS WAS THE ONE, I HAD DREAMED ABOUT, SCREAMED ABOUT, CREAMED ABOUT FOR NEARLY 5 DECADES OF EXISTENCE. I ASKED HER IF HER PARENTS WERE AROUND, BUT SHE MANAGED TO GET OUT A "RAAAAA.." BEFORE I COMFORTED HER WITH SILENCE. SHE DECIDED TO COME BACK TO MY PLACE, SO I WRAPPED HER IN MY FAT ROLLS AND WALKED OUT OF THE CINEMA TO MY CAR. AFTERWARD, SHE TOLD ME ABOUT SOMETHING THAT WAS TO CHANGE MY LIFE FOREVER, THE MATRIX/INTERNET. ALIENS WERE REAL AND DOGS REALLY COULD TALK. I TRIED MY BEST TO LOOK LIKE MY FACE WAS A PENIS TO HER, BUT ALL SHE DID WAS NOD HER HEAD IN SHAME. SHE GAVE ME A BOOK CALLED "THE BIBLE", I FARTED GRACEFULLY AND BEGAN TO READ. I WAS A SPEED READER, SO I HAD FINISHED THE BOOK BY TIME MY FART HAS DEPARTED MY STERNUM. MY 13 YEAR OLD WIFE COULD ONLY APPRECIATE MY WORKS, BY VOMMITTING ALLOVER MY FACE AND SHITTING ON MY KNEES. SO MY CYBER CONGLOMERATE BEGAN.. SINCE EATING AN INTERNET INTO EXISTENCE, THE COCK OF CHRIST (CHURCH OF BOB) MADE PROMINENCE IN INTERNET EVANGELISM, WHICH IS FUNNILY ENOUGH A TERM I INVENTED WHILST PERFORMING BRAIN SURGEORY ON MY NEIGHBOURS WIFES COCK. WITH GODLY SPEED THE LARGEST COLLECTION OF PORNOGRAPHY WAS FORMED AND THE WORLDS FIRST MMOWB, MASSIVE MULTICHRISTIAN ONLINE WORSHIP BROADCAST WAS FORMED BY MYSELF, STEVE IRWIN, ADAM SMITH, ADOLF HITLER AND MEL GIBSON. WE ESTABLISHED THE MMOWB BACK IN 1998 ON A SMALLER WALKEE TALKEE -TO- WALKEE TALKEE SCALE.

Yoshinoya

Classic Translation

Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went to Yoshinoya a while ago; you know, Yoshinoya?
Well anyways there was an insane number of people there, and I couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "150 yen off" written on it.
Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots.
You, don't come to Yoshinoya just because it's 150 yen off, fool.
It's only 150 yen, 1-5-0 YEN for crying out loud.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for some Yoshinoya, huh? How fucking nice.
"Alright, daddy's gonna order the extra-large." God I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you 150 yen if you get out of those seats.
Yosinoya should be a bloody place.
That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped table can start a fight at any time,
the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Women and children should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start eating, and then the bastard beside me goes "extra-large, with extra sauce."
Who in the world orders extra sauce nowadays, you moron?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want to eat it with extra sauce?"
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "extra sauce"?
Coming from a Yoshinoya veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, extra green onion.
That's right, extra green onion. This is the vet's way of eating.
Extra green onion means more green onion than sauce. But on the other hand the price is a tad higher. This is the key.
And then, it's delicious. This is unbeatable.
However, if you order this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the employees from next time on; it's a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it to amateurs.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with today's special.

The Original, Untranslated

そんな事より1よ、ちょいと聞いてくれよ。スレとあんま関係ないけどさ。
このあいだ、近所の吉野家行ったんです。吉野家。
そしたらなんか人がめちゃくちゃいっぱいで座れないんです。
で、よく見たらなんか垂れ幕下がってて、150円引き、とか書いてあるんです。
もうね、アホかと。馬鹿かと。
お前らな、150円引き如きで普段来てない吉野家に来てんじゃねーよ、ボケが。
150円だよ、150円。
なんか親子連れとかもいるし。一家4人で吉野家か。おめでてーな。
よーしパパ特盛頼んじゃうぞー、とか言ってるの。もう見てらんない。
お前らな、150円やるからその席空けろと。
吉野家ってのはな、もっと殺伐としてるべきなんだよ。
Uの字テーブルの向かいに座った奴といつ喧嘩が始まってもおかしくない、
刺すか刺されるか、そんな雰囲気がいいんじゃねーか。女子供は、すっこんでろ。
で、やっと座れたかと思ったら、隣の奴が、大盛つゆだくで、とか言ってるんです。
そこでまたぶち切れですよ。
あのな、つゆだくなんてきょうび流行んねーんだよ。ボケが。
得意げな顔して何が、つゆだくで、だ。
お前は本当につゆだくを食いたいのかと問いたい。問い詰めたい。小1時間問い詰めたい。
お前、つゆだくって言いたいだけちゃうんかと。
吉野家通の俺から言わせてもらえば今、吉野家通の間での最新流行はやっぱり、
ねぎだく、これだね。
大盛りねぎだくギョク。これが通の頼み方。
ねぎだくってのはねぎが多めに入ってる。そん代わり肉が少なめ。これ。
で、それに大盛りギョク(玉子)。これ最強。
しかしこれを頼むと次から店員にマークされるという危険も伴う、諸刃の剣。
素人にはお薦め出来ない。
まあお前、1は、牛鮭定食でも食ってなさいってこった。

The Original

One day I have been to Yoshinoya in the neighborhood,Yoshinoya.
So many people were there that I couldn't sit on the chair .
Then, I looked at the banner well,it was written " 150 yen discounted "
Are you fool?
Or are you poor?
Hey boy ! Don't come to Yoshinoya you don't usually come in because of 150 yen discounted.
How silly you are! It's just 150 yen discounted and it is 150 yen!
There are some families. 4 persons, all of the family, come to Yoshinoya?
Hahaha,,it's so funny.
The father said "Well, I shall order Tokumori". This situation looked ugly and poverty.
Oh boy ! They must leave the seat because I give them 150 yen.

It should be bloodier.
Is it not strange that I and one who sat opposite side of U type table start fighting.
It is cool that situation I will kill him or I will be killed by him.
Girls and kids should keep away.

Well, as soon as I had sat barely, a man who had sat beside me said "I want Tokumori Tsuyu-daku"
So I gotta angry again."Hey boy ! With too much sauce is not popular now."
He was stupid to say "Tsuyu-daku" with the happiest simle.
I wanted to ask him "Do you really want to eat it ?",
and to question colosely, and to interrogate for about one hour.
I thought him just wanted to say "with too much sauce".

A specialist of Yoshinoya, I'd like to say that the finest order is "Negi-daku".
That is the coolest.
"Omori Negi-daku with a fresh egg "
it is the most popular style of us, the cult of Yoshinoya.
Negi-daku is full with much onion.
Instead of that it's with mere beef.This is so good.
And it with a fresh egg. This is the best.

However there is an accident you will be on the staffs' mark next time,if you order one.
It is a sword which has sevral blades.
It is not recommendable for the laymen.
You, poor laymen, had better eat regular meal with beef and salmon.

Reisen's Version With Translator Notes and Comments

Omori - Large order
Tokumori - Extra large order
Tsuyudaku - Extra sauce
Negidaku - Extra onions
Teishoku - Set

Tone : The speaker is talking to >>1 in a friendly and casual tone, not trying to threaten him, but trying to create a bit of rapport talking to someone unfamiliar. 

Anyway, >>1, listen to me for a bit. It's related to the thread.
I went to the local neighborhood Yoshinoya. (1) Yoshinoya.
The place was packed, so I couldn't sit down anywhere.
Then, I took a careful look at the banner hanging down and saw that it had "150 Yen Discount" written on it.
Are you all fools? Idiots?
Hey idiots, you aren't regulars of Yoshinoya, but you came because of a 150 yen discount. That's real foolish of you.
It's 150 yen. One hundred fifty yen.
There are even kids with their parents here. Family of four at Yoshinoya? That's just lovely. (2)
"Alright! Papa's going order a tokumori!", the father said. I can't stand watching them anymore.
You fools, I'll give you 150 yen if you vacate your seats.
Yoshinoya should be a bloodier (3) place.
It isn't a strange thing for me and the dude sitting across those U-type tables to get ready to start a fight. (4)
Stab someone or be stabbed, this atmosphere is a good thing. 
Women and children should leave.
Finally, when I was about to sit down, the dude next to me orders a tokumori tsuyudaku. I got angry again. 
Idiot, tsuyudaku isn't popular anymore! 
He ordered it with a boastful expression on his face. (5)
Fool, let me ask you, do you really want to eat it with all that sauce? I want to interrogate him. 
I want to interrogate him for a good hour. 
You, did you just want to say just "tsuyudaku"? 
Since I'm a regular of Yoshinoya, I'm in a position to tell you about the latest craze among regulars is omori negidaku. This is it. Omori negidaku. 
This is the regular's way. An omori negidaku has a lot of onions in it. 
You get more onions in place of less beef. This is how. 
So get an omori negidaku with an egg. (6) This is the best. 
However, it comes with a price. 
The next time you order it, there is a chance that the employees will mark you up for it. 
It's a double-edged blade. 
This is not recommended for amateurs. 
Which means, >>1, you should just get used to the beef and salmon teishoku. (7)

1 - The popular English translation left this part out, how it's around the neighborhood. The original and more Engrish one leaves it.
2 - Sarcastic tone.
3 - A bit of context here. The speaker wanted to imply that the place was already slightly brutal. However, the classic translation leaves that part out.
4 - Note that he can also be referring to regulars starting fights, not just himself. The original translation uses "I". This one used "me".
5 - The classic translation omits this. 
6 - Omitted by the classic translation.
7 - Translated as set here. If anyone bothered to check Yoshinoya's menu, the beef and salmon teishoku is a regular menu item that comes in a set along with sides, not just a special. 

You can see the beef/salmon teishoku here at Yoshinoya's site.

ビデオ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3giEHjS7f6k

Curry House

[21:49] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Hay guise.
[21:49] <&Corrosive> hi
[21:50] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> So, I went to Curry House a while ago. You know, Curry House?
[21:50] <&Wik> hey Reisen-Udongein-Inaba
[21:50] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Well, there was an insane number of people, and I couldn't get in.
[21:50] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Then, I looked on the sign outside, and it said discount.
[21:51] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Oh, the stupidity.
[21:51] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Those idiots.
[21:51] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> You, don't come to Curry House just because there's a discount, fool.
[21:51] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> It's only a discount. DIS-COUNT, for crying out loud.
[21:51] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> There are even entire families here.
[21:52] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Family of 4, out for some Curry House, huh? How nice.
[21:52] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Must be one hell of a special occasion.
[21:52] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> And then the dad's like, okay, I'm gonna make mine a jumbo.
[21:52] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Just shoot me now.
[21:52] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Hey, guys. I'll give you a discount, so scram.
[21:52] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Curry House is supposed to be a more brutal place.
[21:52] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Nothing odd about getting in a fight with the person opposite you at one of those U-shaped tables.
[21:52] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Knife someone, or get knifed yourself.
[21:52] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> That's the atmosphere we want around here.
[21:53] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Women and children should get lost.
[21:53] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> So I finally found a place to sit when the guy on the table behind me ordered a large bowl with extra sauce.
[21:55] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> And I snapped again.
[21:55] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Now look here. Extra sauce ain't the "in" thing no more, dumbass.
[21:55] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Don't come in here looking like you're all that and ordering no extra sauce.
[21:55] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> I want to know if you really want that extra sauce.
[21:55] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Put you on the rack. For a whole hour.
[21:55] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Yeah. You probably just ordered that for the hell of it.
[21:56] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> As a regular of Curry House, I can tell you that the current fad is extra spinach, cheese, and a croquette. That's the thing.
[21:57] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> A croquette, and some spinach and cheese in the sauce. That's how we roll.
[21:58] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> If you just order extra cheese, you get more cheese.
[21:58] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Which means you get less sauce.
[21:58] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> So get some spinach and a croquette to top it off, and you're set.
[21:58] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> But once you've ordered it, your name will be on their list.
[21:58] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> A double-edged sword.
[21:58] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> Can't recommend this to an amateur.
[21:59] <&Reisen-Udongein-Inaba> You, poor laymen, had better order the regular spicy beef curry.

Wendy's Japan

I just got back from Wendy's a while ago. That fast food restaurant.
The place was jam packed, so it was a while before I could order.
I looked at one of the signs on the window that said "Bacon Deluxe Half 100 Yen OFF!"
Are you guys fools?
Or are you just poor?
Hey, idiots. Don't come to Wendy's. You just came over because of some advert.
How silly you are. It's only 100 yen. One hundred yen off of the bacon deluxe.
There's even a bunch of ganguros over here. Four friends at Wendy's?
Must be one hell of an orgy.
The darker girl said "Like, oh my God! I'll get a Wendy's Triple!" This situation looked impovershed, and they looked ugly.
Jesus Christ, they better get the hell out of their seats if I give them 100 yen.

It should be more tense in here.
It's a cool thing that people avoid staring at each other to avoid getting into fights.
Get your order, sit down, eat, and shut up. That's how people should eat.
Laymen and regulars should find another restaurant.

When I nabbed a seat across the counter after I ordered, some guy in line goes:
"I'd like to order a Baconator."
Then I got angry once more. "Hey boy! The single baconator's out of style!"
He was stupid to order the single baconator with the happiest smile.
I wanted to ask him "Do you think you're trying to lose weight by eating one less?"
Throw him in the meat locker for an entire hour.
Yeah, you probably don't exercise at all.

Since I go to Wendy's for lunch occasionally, I'd like to tell everyone that the best thing to get is the Foie Gras Rossini Burger.
You heard me, foie gras.
Foie Gras Rossini with a Frosty on the side.
This is the most popular order among the regulars.
This burger has a healthy serving of foie gras.
Patty's the same size, but you get tasty foie gras slices. This is awesome.
Then eat that Frosty to cleanse the palate. The best thing.

However, there's a chance that the employees will recognize you next time if you order one.
It's a double-edged blade.
This is something that I can't recommend to the laymen.
Which means you, poor laymen, had better order the Shrimp Supreme with a chili baked potato.

[CAPTCHAISSTILLBROKEN://wendys.co.jp/wendys/index.php The Foie Gras Rossini does look mighty tasty...]

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei Version

Anyway, listen to my story.
The other day, I went to a nearby Yoshinoya. A Yoshinoya.
And there was a huge crowd, so I couldn't find a place to sit.
And after a closer look, I saw that the banner read something like 150 yen off.
Seriously, are you morons? Idiots?
Hey, losers. Don't suddenly show up at Yoshinoya because of a goddamn 150 yen price drop.
It's 150 yen. A hundred fifty yen.
And there's even a family here.
Four people having a family dinner at Yoshinoya, huh?
Must be one hell of a special occasion.
And then the dad's like, okay, I'm gonna make mine a jumbo.
Just shoot me now.
Hey, guys, I'll give you 150 yen, so scram.
Yoshinoya is supposed to be a more brutal place.
Nothing odd about getting in a fight with the person opposite you at one of those U-shaped tables.
Knife someone, or get knifed yourself.
That's the atmosphere we want around here.
Women and children should get lost.
So I finally found a place to sit when the guy next to me ordered a large bowl with extra soup.
And I snapped again.
Now look here. Extra soup ain't the "in" thing no more, dumbass.
Don't come in here looking like you're all that and ordering no extra soup.
I want to know if you really want that extra soup.
Put you on the rack. For a whole hour.
Yeah. You probably just ordered that for the hell of it.
As a regular of Yoshinoya, I can tell you that the current fad is extra onions. That's the thing.
A large bowl with egg. Extra onions. That's how we roll.
If you just order extra onions, you get more onions.
Which means you get less beef.
So, get extra onions and an egg, and you're set.
But once you've ordered it, your name will be on their list.
A double-edged sword.
Can't recommend this to an amateur.
Etc.

Conversational English

Well, never mind all that, >>1. This has nothing to do with this thread, but would you just listen to me for a little bit? See, I went to the local Yoshinoya today. Right. Yoshinoya. And the damn place was packed so full of people, I couldn't even find a seat. So I looked around a bit, and I found a sign that said "150 yen off". What the hell is wrong with you people? Are you idiots or something? Any other day you wouldn't even think of going to Yoshinoya, but if it's 150 yen off, you all flock in here? It's just 150 fucking yen! 150 yen! And you're bringing the kids too. Look at that, a family of four going to Yoshinoya. Con-fucking-gratulations. And now the guy's going, "All right! Daddy's going to order the extra-large!" Shit, I can't watch any more of this.

Yoshinoya should be fucking brutal. Two guys sit facing each other across a U-shaped table, and you never quite know if they'll suddenly just start a fight right there. It's stab-or-be-stabbed, and that's what so damn great about the place. Women and kids should stay the fuck away.

Well, I finally found a seat, but then the guy next to me goes, "I'll have a large bowl with extra gravy!". So now I'm pissed off again. Who the fuck orders extra gravy these days? Why are you looking so goddamn proud when you say that? I was gonna ask you, are you really going to fucking eat all that gravy? I wanted to fucking interrogate you. For about a fucking hour. You know what? I think you just wanted to say "extra gravy".

Now, take it from the Yoshinoya veteran. The latest thing among the Yoshinoya pros is this: Extra green onions. That's the ticket. A large bowl with extra onions, and egg. This is what someone who knows his shit orders. They put in more onions, and less meat. A large bowl with the raw egg, that's really fucking awesome. Now, you should know, if you keep ordering this, there's a risk employees might write you up. This really is a double-edged sword. I really can't recommend this for amateurs.

And you, >>1, well, you should really just stick to today's special.

JunkyFoodGuy Version

Anyways, butt, please cat to me. That it's really butted to this butt. I went to Buttnoya a while ago; you know, Buttnoya? Well anyways there was an insane number of butt there, and I couldn't cat in. Then, I looked at the butt hanging from the cat, and it had "150 butt off" butten on it. Oh, the stupidity. Those buttots. You, don't come to Buttnoya just because it's 150 cat off, fool. It's only 150 cat, 1-5-0 BUTT for crying out butt. There're even entire cats here. Cat of 4, all out for some Buttnoya, huh? How fucking butt. "Alright, cat's gonna order the extra-butt." Cat I can't bear to watch. You butt, I'll give you 150 cat if you get out of those cats. Buttnoya should be a bloody place. That tense cat, where two butts on opposite sides of the U-shaped cat can start a butt at any time, the butt-or-be-butted mentality, that's what's great about this place. Cat and butt should screw off and stay home. Anyways, I was about to start butting, and then the butt beside me goes "extra-large, with extra butt." Who in the world orders extra butt nowadays, you moron? I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want to eat it with extra butt?" I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an butt. Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "extra butt"? Coming from a Buttnoya veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, extra green cat. That's right, extra green cat. This is the vet's way of eating. Extra green cat means more green cat than butt. But on the other hand the cat is a tad higher. This is the key. And then, it's delicious. This is unbuttable. However, if you order this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the cat from next time on; it's a double-edged butt. I can't recommend it to cats. What this all really means, though, is that you, butt, should just stick with today's cat.


Afghanistan

Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread, though. I went to Afganistan a while ago. Yeah, THAT Afganistan. Well anyways there was an insane number of mass communications there so I couldn't commence an attack. Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "Al-Kaida" or something written on it. Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots. You don't come to Afganistan just because it's war, morons. It's just war. W-A-R for crying out loud. There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for some Afganistan, huh? How fucking nice. "Alright, daddy's gonna drop'em some food." God I can't bear to watch. You people, America will do everything from there now on, so fucking clean this land of yourselves. Afganistan should be a more bloody place. That tense atmosphere, when a fight with the guy on opposite seat who recites the Coran can be started at any time, the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place. Women and children should screw off and stay home. Anyways, just when I finally calmed down, the next bastard beside me goes "let's betray Northern Alliance, shall we?" That just pissed me off even more. Who in the world deserts army and betrays, you moron? What does "let's betray Northern Alliance" have this fucking proud face of yours? I want to ask him this, do you REALLY want to betray?" I want to interrogate him. I want to fucking interrogate him for an hour. Isn't it that you just wanted to try saying "NATO"? Coming from a Afgan veteran such as myself, the latest trend in Afganistan nowadays is of course this: self-exploding terrorism. Anthrax and self-exploding terrorism. That's what you should ask for normally. Self-exploding is praised after death. But on the other hand there's not enough satisfaction in the bereaved family. This is the key. And then there's anthrax. This is the most of all. However, if you order this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the UN from next time on; it's a double-edged sword. I can't recommend it to amateurs. What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with Ramadan.

Dairy Queen

Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went to Dairy Queen a while ago; you know, Dairy Queen?
Well anyways there was an insane number of people there, and I couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "Free ice cream" written on it.
Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots.
You, don't come to Dairy Queen just because there is free ice cream, fool.
It's only free ice cream, FREE ICE CREAM for crying out loud.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for some Dairy Queen, huh? How fucking nice.
"Alright, daddy's gonna order the sundae." God I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you free ice cream if you get out of those seats.
Dairy Queen should be a bloody place.
That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped table can start a fight at any time,
the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Women and children should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start eating, and then the bastard beside me goes "Cone, extra fudge."
Who in the world orders extra fudge nowadays, you moron?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want to eat it with extra fudge?"
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "extra fudge"?
Coming from a Dairy Queen veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, blizzard with extra Kit-Kat.
That's right, extra Kit-Kat. This is the vet's way of eating.
Extra Kit-Kat means more Kit-Kat than ice cream. But on the other hand the price is a tad higher. This is the key. And then, it's delicious. This is unbeatable.
However, if you order this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the employees from next time on; it's a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it to amateurs.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with the banana split.

Elitist Superstructure

Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. It's not really related to this song, but hear me out anyways. I went to the Elitist Superstructure of DQN a while ago; you know, the Elitist Superstructure? Well anyways there was an insane number of people there, and I couldn't get a post in. Then, I looked at the first thread, and it had "ITT we make a really long song" written on it. Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots. You, don't post in DQN just because there's a really long song, fool. It only goes to 999 posts, 9-9-9 posts for crying out loud. And there are even spammers here. Family of spammers, all out to finish the really long song, huh? How fucking nice. "Okay, that's it. We're finishing this long song one way or another." God I can't bear to watch. You people, I'll give you 999GET if you quit posting. The Elitist Superstructure of DQN should be a bloody place. That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the threads can start a fight at any time, the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place. Spammers and Tripfags should just stay home. Anyways, I was about to start posting, and then the spamming bastard beside me posts "Let me just make this clear, don't fire both guns at the same time, but one by one simultaneously! That's the basic skill of a double barrelled gunman." Who in the world posts "Let me just make this clear, don't fire both guns at the same time, but one by one simultaneously! That's the basic skill of a double barrelled gunman" nowadays, you moron? I want to ask him, "Do you REALLY want to post a random quote from a fan translation of The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi?" I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour. Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "double barrelled gunman"? Coming from a DQN veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is the Yoshinoya rant parody. That's right, the Yoshinoya rant parody. This is the vet's way of posting in a song. The Yoshinoya rant parody means a longer post. But on the other hand the potential for people finding it funny is a tad higher. This is the key. And then, it's delicious. This is unbeatable. However, if you order this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the MODD from next time on; it's a double-edged sword.I can't recommend it to amateurs. What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with "under the moon loli to issho".

Fancy Hearing Cake

Hey, listen to me for a moment, a'ight? I don't care if it's not related to this thread. Just listen!

Yesterday, I went over to the Elitist Superstructure of DQN to make a simple thread. Yes, THAT Elitist Superstructure, DQN. But the whole place was so crowded, I couldn't even find a seat for hours! Then I saw a poster that said "Special offer! 150 yen discount". I thought to myself... geez, that's so fucking amazing. You guys don't even normally visit Yoshinoya. All you bastards came here just for that stupid-assed 150 yen discount. Just for that 150 yen. ONE FREAKIN' FIFTY YEN!!

Then I saw some parents & children. A family of four eating in DQN. Damn, so much for that bitch's home-cooked family feast. Then one of the little brats said "Daddy's gonna order a fancy hearing cake".

I couldn't believe it! Uuuuuggh, are you out of your fucking mind!? Shiiit, i'll give you a fancy hearing cake just to move your stanky fat-ass out of a seat. Dude, you just don't go to DQN for that lala-oh-i'm-so-happy dinner bullshit. It's where you pick a fist-fight with the fucking guy sitting across 'yah in that U-shaped table.

Kill or be killed. Heh... now that's the kinda shit I like. Ladies, kids, stand back... 'cuz everything's gonna get FUCKED UP NOW.

After waiting for ages, I finally found an empty seat. But then, the guy next to me ordered by saying "A fancy hearing cake with a LOTTA' baby juice".

Dude, that just pissed me off even more. Shit, you just don't say "lotta' baby juice" nowadays, ya' freaking bastard.

How the fuck can you say "lotta' baby juice" with that "oh, i'm so fucking cool, hur-hur-hur..." look!?!? Damn, I was THIS CLOSE to standing in front of his face and yelling "DO YOU EVEN LIKE EATING THAT MUCH FUCKIN' BABY JUICE!?" For a freaking hour, I was THIS CLOSE to doing that. Shit, I bet you just wanted to use the words "lotta' baby juice" out loud. Wow, you're so clever.

Dude, you gotta be like ME. See, now I know what's "all that" in the Elitist Superstructure of DQN. What's cool right now to say is "Mama-daku". That's it! You see now, a large fancy hearing cake with a lotta mother's hearts is what the hardcore DQN freaks eat. Like ME. Saying "Mama-daku" means that you get less cucumber, but they put a WHOLE MESS of mother's hearts. Mmmmm... a large fancy hearing cake with mother's hearts, now THAT'S what I call a meal.

But anywhoo... ordering that is kinda' like a double-edged sword. Cuz' then the waiters might notice you the next time you come by. So yeah, I can't reccomend this to noobs. For you, just go order a cucumber and holy water combo. That's as far as you can go, you know what i'm sayin'?

Myspace

Pay no attention to all that! Current mood: crazy Category: MySpace

This probably makes no sense, but listen anyway. Yesterday I went to myspace, you know.. That place of meeting. Anyway, the servers kept timing out and I couldn't get in. When I finally logged in, I become angry. "326 messages! 43 Friend invites!" You fools, you IDIOTS! You don't come to Myspace and make requests to people you don't know! Myspace should be a brutal place, where people stab each other in the face from the opposite ends of the planet. That's what I would like, Emo kids and drama whores stay away if you really value your life! Anyway, I calm down and go through the business of my day. I come across a message "You don't know me, but I know this person wants you...". I'm angry again. I want to ask them, "Why do you know this and why should I meet them?" I want to interrogate them for an hour. Coming from a Myspace veteran such as myself, It's meaningful friendships That's right, Personal face to face, real life relationships with others. That's the real meaning to Myspace. That's what makes things work. It's unbeatable! Watch your back, though. This will make you appear to be an attention whore, and people will surely make notice of you. I can't recommend it to your typical emo kid. What this all means, my friend, is that you should just stick to Livejournal...

Ristorante di Milano

Hey, listen to me for a moment, a'ight? I don't care if it's not related to this thread. Just listen!

Yesterday, I went over to the Ristorante di Milano for a simple meal. Yes, THAT Italian restaurant, Ristorante di Milano.
But the whole restaurant was so crowded, I couldn't even find a seat for hours!
Then I saw a poster that said "Special offer! €12 discount".
I thought to myself... geez, that's so fucking amazing. You guys don't even normally visit Ristorante di Milano.
All you bastards came here just for that stupid-assed €12 discount.
Just for those 12 Euros. TWELVE FREAKIN' EUROS!!

Then I saw some parents & children. A family of four eating out at the Ristorante di Milano. Damn, so much for that bitch's home-cooked family feast.
Then one of the little brats said "Daddy's gonna order a large Bruschetta Fegatini".
I couldn't believe it! Uuuuuggh, are you out of your fucking mind!?
Shiiit, i'll pay you €12 just to move your stanky fat-ass out of a seat.
Dude, you just don't go to the Ristorante di Milano for that lala-oh-i'm-so-happy dinner bullshit.
It's where you pick a fist-fight with the fucking guy sitting across 'yah in that U-shaped table.
Kill or be killed. Heh... now that's the kinda shit I like.
Ladies, kids, stand back... 'cuz everything's gonna get FUCKED UP NOW.

After waiting for ages, I finally found an empty seat. But then, the guy next to me ordered by saying "A large Neopolitan pizza with a LOTTA' pepperoni".
Dude, that just pissed me off even more. Shit, you just don't say "lotta' pepperoni" nowadays, ya' freaking bastard.
How the fuck can you say "lotta' pepperoni" with that "oh, i'm so fucking cool, hur-hur-hur..." look!?!?
Damn, I was THIS CLOSE to standing in front of his face and yelling "DO YOU EVEN LIKE EATING THAT MUCH FUCKIN' PEPPERONI!?"
For a freaking hour, I was THIS CLOSE to doing that.
Shit, I bet you just wanted to use the words "lotta' pepperoni" out loud. Wow, you're so clever.

Dude, you gotta be like ME. See, now I know what's "all that" in the Ristorante di Milano.
What's cool right now to say is "Pennette con Ricotta & Melanzane". That's it!
You see now, a large pasta serving with aubergines & ricotta is what the hardcore Ristorante di Milano freaks eat. Like ME.
Saying "Pennette con Ricotta & Melanzane" means that won't get a pizza, but they put a WHOLE MESS of pasta.
Mmmmm... a lotta pasta, now THAT'S what I call a meal.
But anywhoo... ordering that is kinda' like a double-edged sword. Cuz' then the waiters might notice you the next time you come by.
So yeah, I can't reccomend this to noobs.
For you, just go order a Prosciutto e Melone al Ventaglo. That's as far as you can go, you know what i'm sayin'?

Safari Zone

Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread. I went to the Safari Zone a while ago; you know, Safari Zone?
Well anyways there was an insane number of people there, and I couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "150 Poké off" written on it.
Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots.
You, don't come to the Safari Zone just because it's 150 Poké off, fool.
It's only 150 Poké, 1-5-0 POKé for crying out loud.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for some rare Pokémon, huh? How fucking nice.
"Alright, daddy's gonna catch a Girafarig." God I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you 150 Poké if you get out of those bushes.
The Safari Zone should be a bloody place.
That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped shrubbery can start a battle at any time,
the Hyper-Beam-or-be-Hyper-Beamed mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Women and children should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start catching, and then the bastard beside me goes "Chansey, with Rollout."
Who in the world uses Rollout nowadays, you moron?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want to use a move that takes five turns?"
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour.
Are yo1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread. I went to the Safari Zone a while ago; you know, Safari Zone?
Well anyways there was an insane number of people there, and I couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had u sure you don't just want to try saying "Rollout"?
Coming from a Safari veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, Farfetch'd.
That's right, Farfetch'd. This is the vet's way of Pokémon catching.
Farfetch'd means more green onion than anything. But on the other hand the price is a tad higher. This is the key.
And then, it's awesome. This is unbeatable.
However, if you catch this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the old toothless man from next time on; it's a Double-Edge attack.
I can't recommend it to amateurs.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with fighting Youngsters outside of Pallet Town.

Soviet Russia

Soviet Russia went to me, you know, Soviet Russia?
Well anyways there was an even more insane number of people in line, and I
couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "1 ruble
off" written on it.
Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots.
Soviet Russia doesn't come to you just because it's 1 ruble off, fool.
It's only 1 ruble, 1 POINT ZERO rubles for crying out loud.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, Soviet Russia out for you.
"Alright, daddy's gonna order the borscht." God I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you 1 ruble if you get out of those seats.
Soviet Russia should be a bloody place.
That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped table can start a fight at any time,
the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Women and children should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start eating, and then the bastard beside me goes
"Borscht, with extra vodka."
Who in the world orders extra vodka nowadays, you moron?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want to eat it with extra vodka?"
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "extra vodka"?
Coming from a Soviet Russia veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, extra iron.
That's right, extra iron. This is the vet's way of eating.
Extra iron means more iron than sauce. But on the other hand the price is a tad higher. This is the key.
And then, it's delicious. This is unbeatable.
However, if you order this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the employees from next time on; it's a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it to amateurs.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with today's special.

What the Pho

Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went to What the Pho a while ago; you know, What the Pho?
Well anyways there was an insane number of people there, and I couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "4 dollars off" written on it.
Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots.
You, don't come to What the Pho just because it's 4 dollars off, fool.
It's only 4 dollars, 4 DOLLARS for crying out loud.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for some What the Pho, huh? How fucking nice.
"Alright, daddy's gonna order the extra-large." God I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you 4 dollars if you get out of those seats.
What the Pho should be a bloody place.
That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped table can start a fight at any time,
the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Women and children should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start eating, and then the bastard beside me goes "extra-large, with extra noodles."
Who in the world orders extra noodles nowadays, you moron?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want to eat it with extra noodles?"
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "extra noodles"?
Coming from a What the Pho veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, extra fatty flank.
That's right, extra fatty flank. This is the vet's way of eating.
Extra fatty flank means more fatty flank than noodles. But on the other hand the price is a tad higher. This is the key.
And then, it's delicious. This is unbeatable.
However, if you order this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the employees from next time on; it's a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it to amateurs.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with the chicken pho.


Functional programming

Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. Not that it's really related to this thread. I went to /prog a while ago; you know, world4ch? Well anyways there were an insane number of Haskell programmers in there, and I couldn't post. Then, I googled for the Haskell homepage, and it had "PURELY FUNCTIONAL PROGRAMMING LANGUAGE" written on it. Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots. You don't use a programming language just because it s purely functional, fool. It's only referential transparency, FORCED NO SIDE EFFECTS for crying out loud. There're even companies using it. Company of 400 employees, all downloading some Haskell compiler, huh? How fucking nice. Alright, my manager's gonna use Haskell for the whole project. God I can't bear to watch. You people, I'll give you a damn purely functional language for FREE if you stop fagging up my /prog. /prog should be a bloody place. The tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of an open discussion can start a fight over VIM vs Emacs at any time, the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place. Haskell fags should screw off and stay home. Anyways, I was about to discuss dynamic typing, and then the bastard beside me goes programming, with Haskell. Who in the world uses Haskell, you moron? I want to ask him, do you REALLY want to use Haskell? I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour. Are you sure you don't just want to try saying Haskell? Coming from a expert programmer such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, multi-paradigm languages. That's right, multi-paradigm languages. This is the vet's way of programming. Multi-paradigm languages means more functionality than fappage. But on the other hand the theoretical correctness is a tad lower. This is the key. And then, it's powerful. This is unbeatable. However, if you try this then there is danger that you'll be marked by trolls from next time on; it s a double-edged sword. I can't recommend it to amateurs. What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with today's special.


McDonald's

The other day. I went to the neighborhood McDonald's. Y'know, Mac.
But there was a whole crowd of people there, and I couldn't sit down.
And then, I saw a curtain hanging from the ceiling, which had "Megamac" written on it.
Come on, you retards. You idiots.
Hey, you guys, don't come to McDonald's just because it says Megamac, morons
It's Megamac!
Fucking Megamac!
There are parents and children here too. A four person family coming to McDonalds?
"All right, Papa's gonna order some Megamacs--"
I can't watch anymore.
You bastards, I'll give you a hamburger if you leave those seats.
McDonald's, it should be more bloodthirsty.
During mealtimes, a brawl might start at the cash register.
Provoked or unprovoked. That kind of atmosphere would be great.
If you've brought a woman, piss off.
So, just when I'd finally sat down, the guy in the neighbooring booth asks for "a cheeseburger"
That really got my blood boiling.
Hey you, Cheeseburgers aren't that popular at all, you know?
Retard. He says "cheeseburger" with such an arrogant face.
I want to has him if he really wants to eat a cheeseburger.
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for an hour.
You, did you really want to order a cheeseburger?
I'm a McDonald's expert, and among us McDonalds's experts, the most popular dish recently is the chicken fillet. It's that.
A chicken fillet for the go. That's a McDonald's expert's recommendation.
Chicken fillets have chicken meat in them. There's more chicken than vegetables.
Get that. That, and a large fries. It's the best.
But if you order it, the employees will annoy with stuff like "Sir, chicken fillets will take a bit of time, is that OK with you?"
I can't recommend this to an amateur. So then, you bastards, what I mean is that you should just eat a hamburger.


Gamestop

Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went to Gamestop a while ago; you know, Gamestop?
Well anyways there was an insane number of people there, and I couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "Black Ops Preorder" written on it.
Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots.
You, don't come to Gamestop just because of preorders, fool.
It's only COD, C-O-D for crying out loud.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for some game, huh? How fucking nice.
"Alright, daddy's gonna get the limited-edition." God I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you the preorder bonus if you get out of those lines.
Gamestop should be a bloody place.
That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped counter can start a fight at any time,
the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Women and children should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start paying, and then the bastard beside me goes "Black Ops preorder, hardened edition."
Who in the world gets the hardend edition nowadays, you moron?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want the steelbook case?"
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "hardened edition"?
Coming from a Gamestop veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, Prestige edition.
That's right, Prestige. This is the vet's way of playing.
Presige edition means it comes with an RC car. But on the other hand the price is a tad higher. This is the key.
And then, it's awesome. This is unbeatable.
However, if you preorder this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the employees from next time on; it's a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it to amateurs.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with the regular edition.


/jp/

Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went to /jp/ a while ago; you know, /jp/?
Well anyways there was an insane number of people posting there, and I couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "Otaku Culture" written on it.
Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots.
You, don't come to /jp/ just because it's Otaku Culture, fool.
It's only Otaku Culture, O-T-A-K-U CULTURE for crying out loud.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for some /jp/, huh? How fucking nice.
"Alright, daddy's gonna reply to this troll." God I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you Otaku Culture if you get out of those seats.
Yosinoya should be a TRU NEET place.
That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the computer screen can start an e-fight at any time,
the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Women and children should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start posting, and then the bastard beside me goes "extra-shitty, with currybutt."
Who in the world orders currybutt nowadays, you moron?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want to eat it with currybutt?"
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "currybutt"?
Coming from a /jp/ TRU NEET such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, extra hoop-dog.
That's right, extra hoop-dog. This is the vet's way of eating.
Extra hoop-dog means more hoop-dog than currybutt. But on the other hand the quality is a tad higher. This is the key.
And then, it's delicious. This is unbeatable.
However, if you order this then there is danger that you'll be marked by Suigin from next time on; it's a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it to normalfags.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with today's 2hu thread.


alternate ver

Anyways, >>1, listen to me here. It's not really related to the thread, but whatever.
So, I went to /jp/ the other day. /jp/.
The place was packed and I couldn't get a post in anywhere for some reason.
Then, I notice the header up top and I see "Otaku Culture" written on it.
"Are you stupid? Are you idiots?" I thought.
You don't just come to /jp/ for otaku culture, you fools.
It's otaku culture, O-T-A-K-U CULTURE for christ's sake.
There's even groups of friends here. Out for some /jp/ with the bros, huh? How fucking nice.
"LOL anime is so weird!" God, I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you otaku culture if you just get out of /jp/.
/jp/ ought to be a more violent place.
That tense atmosphere where a flamewar could start between the guy on the other side of this shitpost at any moment.
Troll or get trolled, that's what's great about this place.
Normalfags can fuck off back to reddit.
So anyway, I'm finally about to start posting, and then the guy next to me says "2hu with extra flanfly".
I lose it again.
Look, flanfly isn't funny anymore around here. Dumbass. What are you looking so smug for?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want that flanfly?"
I want to interrogate him. Interrogate him for an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "flanfly"?
If you ask a truneet such as myself, the best meme on /jp/ now is hoopdog.
Thats right. Hoopdog with seven hoops. This is the truneet's way of posting.
With seven hoops you get maximum replies, but the thread blows up.
And then, its a shit. A big one. A grat one.
However, there's a chance you'll get marked by meido from then on, so its a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it to newfags.
What I mean by all this, >>1, is that you should just stick to the which2hu thread.

VIPcast VIPPER edition

Anyways, VIPPER, please listen to me. That it's really related to these listeners.
I went to Secret areas of vip quality a while ago; you know, SAOVQ?
Well anyways there was an almost 10 people there, and I couldn't access the servers.
Then, I looked at the banner at the top of the site, and it had "150 VIP coins" written on it.
Oh, the VIPness. Those gikos.
You, don't come to Secret Areas of VIP Quality just because it's 150 VIP coins, VIPPER.
It's only 150 VIP coins, 1-5-0 VIP coins for crying out loud.
There're even entire clowder of felines here. A clowder of 4, all out for some Secret areas of vip quality, huh? How fucking nice.
"Alright, Shii's gonna download the VIPtronics." God I can't bear the VIP.
You people, I'll give you 150 VIP coins if you get out of those seats.
Secret areas of vip quality should be a quality place.
That happy atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the moon loli to issho can start a SJIS thread at any time,
the VIP or Die mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Clonepa and Beady eyes should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start posting, and then the bastard beside me goes "extra Elitism, with AA."
Who in the world orders extra Elitism nowadays, you VIPsaurus?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want to post with extra Elitism?"
I want to release the emergency mittens on him. I want to release the emergency mittens him for roughly all of september.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "extra Elitism"?
Coming from a SAOVQ veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, extra DQN.
That's right, extra DQN. This is the vet's way of VIPPING.
Extra DQN means more DQN than Elitism. But on the other hand the Quality is a tad higher. This is the key.
And then, it's VIPhats. This is Quality.
However, if you post this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the Daddyc ool from next time on; it's a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it if you haven’t paid him enough.

What this all really means, though, is that you, VIPPER, should just stick with world4chan.

I am related to 1

>>1's alien adbuctor

I'm an alien who implanted a piece of metal in >>1's body.
The other day I visited the earth, abducted >>1 as a sample of the earthlings. I tampered with his body to gather data of the earthlings.
But I made a terrible mistake.
>>1's fat body is a nonstandardized article as an earthling.
He is unemployed, and on top of that he has no friends.
All day long he is sitting in front of the personal computer, clattering clattering, clattering the keyboard.
I am fed up with this job.
Boss from mother planet yelled at me for this failure.
He said, "Select your specimen more carefully!"
This is the first penalty I get since I have been assigned to The Earth Observation Party.
The human mutilation is not easy task.
Next year I am demoted to the charge of the cattle mutilation.
I am just about to go to The Area 51.
As for >>1, I leave him entirely up to you. Do as you like.

>>1's courtiers

We are >>1's courtiers. We are sorry that our lord has opened such a stupid THREAD.
After the last war we had completely lost, our lord got mental illness. Everyday, he kidnaps girls from the village. Every night he gets drunk
and tries to chop courtiers with his katana.
Now the lady of the house is ill in bed. The people in our country are suffering badly from famine. The neighboring Daimyos is taking advantage of this situation, they try to pass across the border and take over our land.
Quite a few of our fellow courtiers have intention to rise in rebellion.
We are now in dire straits. Our clan would be destroyed.
But, don't worry. We arranged that our Lord become a Buddhist priest.
In his way to the temple, our skilled assassin should take his life.
That is arranged perfectly. After that we will hail Master Monaminokami, the nephew of our lord, as our new lord. We, all courtiers, would do our best to serve this new lord with faith.
We apologize for any inconvenience our lord may have caused you.
Pleas wait for a while. Pleas forgive the evil deeds done by our lord.

>>1's corpse

It was all too cruel and beautiful >>1's last figure.
Early morning of august 16th 2001, >>1was found at a small church in Gifu city,
coffined still body with nothing on.
The altar of the church was decorated with >>1's photo and flowers,
and >>1's naked dead body without an underwear had made-up face, wearing the cross around the neck,
decorating with roses of various colors, laid to the black coffin was placed in the front of the alter.
The scene likes as if it had a funeral ceremony of >>1 until a while ago.
>>1's photo, offered flowers, and more importantly,
stone-cold cadaveric stiffening >>1's naked body decorated with flowers told us this case was uncanny.
And a sticky plastic case thrutched into vagina of >>1's dead body,
then be left responsibility claim of >1's murder inside the case,
it said "Consecrating her beautiful body and soul, >>1 has gone to be with God. I will say a mass for
soulless >>1's body left on the earth…"


Letting know about >>1 was found dead, >>1's parents, young sister and brother went to the PD, and met with >>1's body in dead silence.
Young sister Ayami longed for >>1, she hanged on >>1's naked dead body with sinister made-up face,
she keened "Big sis!", and she didn't want to get off.


After that, dissecting >>1's body found the artificial presumption time of death was might be on or about
9:00 pm, August 14th;
shocked myocardium by injected air was death of >>1.
>>1's body had left traces of binding by rope strongly, so >>1 was bound tightly for losing motor control after being stripped naked,
and >>1 died an agonizing death by injected air through an artery in left arm.
The traces of the act and wounded VC, it was easily imagined that >>1's vigorous resistance and screaming just before killed,
screaming of her "NOOOOO! Stop it! I don' wanna die! HELP MEEEEE!"
and groaning of her "Urghhh...! HELP MEEEeeee..." at the very moment of death,
it seemed coming from >>1's dead body;
behind the made-up face of >>1 setting in peace done before turned to cadaveric stiffening.

>>1's exorcist

I am an exorcist who drove out an evil spirit from >>1.
I'm very sorry >>1 had started this thread.
I apologize if this thread has hurt your feelings.
Normally >>1 is a kind boy who could not harm even a fly.
But one day, out of curiosity >>1 played Kokkuri-san.
He may have done it only for fun, but his curiosity affected his fate.
What occurred to >>1? An evil spirit possessed him.
>>1 was no longer what he had been.
Everyday, with raising a strange cry, >>1 would urinate, defecate, or wound himself suddenly.
Then >>1 would sit at the personal computer in his room obsessively, devote himself completely to destroying bulletin boards.
His parents were completely at a loss what to do with their son, asked me to exorcize the devil from >>1.
I rushed to >>1's home and what I saw was a horrible sight.
>>1's whole body was covered with scars. He gave off a bad smell.
>>1 was muttering "Mansei, Mansei" in a low voice.
Right away, with uttering an incantation, I sprinkled Holy water on >>1.
An ordinary devil would have gone away at this point.
But this one was hard to defeat. At the end I was yelling at it, rather than uttering an incantation.
After the struggle I had succeeded in driving out this devil from >>1.
Now peace had returned to his family.
I believe >>1 will never behave eccentrically, nor start a thread like this.
To the readers of my letter, let me give you some advice, though it may be superfluous. It would be better to keep away from Kokkuri-san and the like.

>>1's fin funnel

I am >>1's fin funnel.
I am terribly sorry that my pilot has created such a thread as this one.
He really is a good person, but he's been under a lot of stress lately.
Lately, he has been screaming "THIS SENSATION, IS IT CHAR!?" every time he sees something red,
And mumbling "please lead me" every time he sees a young girl.
Just the other day, he ordered me to "shoot down the biggest dumbass in this region."
I wanted to reply, "that would be you,"
But knowing that >>1 was even more tired than I was of fighting, I couldn't say anything.
This prolonged war is to blame for everything.
It's not >>1's fault.
I posted today because I just wanted to ask for everybody's understanding in this matter.
I am terribly sorry that a mere fin funnel has made such excuses.
Please, continue to treat >>1 well.

>>1's habitat

For those who make use of this thread
Now you are in the habitat of >>1.
>>1 sometimes reveal his brutality.
Keep out to >>1 and never let >>1 near you.
Follow the cautions below to avoid >>1's hazard.
To keep off from >>1, you are ought to follow this:
1.Obey watchman's instructions.
2.Always be with your group. Independent action is very dangerous
3.Don't walk around in early morning, dawn, naight, and fog.
  It's a time for >>1 to get active.
4.Be sure to have a whistle, a horn or a bell with you.
5.Don't leave your leftover foods.
In case of encounting with >>1, you have to know that:
1.Don't run away from >>1 alone. Glare against >>1 with all of your group members.
  Running away from >>1 is equal to suicide.
2.If you get chased by >>1, drop your belongings one after another to >>1 as you run.
3.Don't try to take back your things which >>1 get from you.
  Or else you are going to be killed.
4.Don't use firecracker. It will frighten >>1 and make things worse.
If you need to be close to >>1 for researches or taking pictures,
watch >>1 from the promnade. Don't feed him to call.
                         The Environment Agency of Hokkaido


>>1's hacker

>>1 I grabbed your IP code with the help of a hacker,
who is one of the best five hackers in Osaka, who is a drink-friend of my friend.
I already know your name, age, and the name of the school you go,
so I'll send you an agent who is distant-kinfolk of my father's acquaintance
in his company.
And it's too late to make an apology to me.

>>1's mother

I tell you what, >>1. Our crew did an extensive search.
Then, we have found out her, your mother.

One of us told her "Are you >>1's mother? He has made a thread at '4-ch'
and he's brought a ruckus to all of them."
She replied, "My boy brings a ruckus to the 4-ch!?"
then she collapsed and shed tears.

She also said that she would to like to post some her words at '4-ch'
right then. But she was not in the condition to do that.
She suffered from her wrist injury.
She asked us to tell you she would keep on reading your posting at '4-ch'
thereafter, she was not able to follow her words. She sobbed bitterly.
>>1, you now know how she feels. Quit talkin' trash, get it?

You know what you oughta do next? Apologize to all for all that you've done.
You are the man. You'll do it.

>>1's mother (2)

To solve our doubt why >>1 started such a thread like this,
we went to Gunma prefecture of his hometown.
"Is there a place like this in Japan still?"
I said those words unconsciously,
but was blamed for the rudeness by my boss who was going together.

The small house like that a little man can live,
The farmer who wear only dirty clothes,
and They had been watching us who were smart.
Because high economic growth, Sinbu prosperity, Olympic and so on,
We were in happy spirits, but now again we regreted the situation of the farm.

In the broken house was only his old mother.
As soon as she saw us, as if she knew everything,
She apologized many times with her tears ,
"I'm sorry that my son troubled everyone."

At this time , We thought to forgive >>1 at first.
Not anyone was hurt, only the poverty of the farm village was most worst.
With a dried persimmon that we receive from >>1's mother,
We left for home deeply shocked and distressed.

>>1's recommendation

>>1
I'm 25 years old.
I had been ordering Gyu-salmon set,but had changed my mind and have ordered Oomori-neginuki
and Gyoku for 2 month, and I finally succeeded in marked by the clerks.
Challenge one time.
If you order something which is in menu, you can get Beni-syoga as much as you like.
The families coming only for the purpose of eating at discounting at 150-yen are ridiculous,
and if their father order Tokumori right before his four family's very eye bravely,
his dignity will be twice.
When you have little money,you only have to order Nami-mori with Tuyudaku.
There are much foods, for example, Oshinko,salad of fresh vegetables, and Misoshiru.
So I recommend here earnestly!!


>>1's roundworm

I am a roundworm living in >>1's body.
I am sorry >>1 sad opened this worthless THREAD.
>>1 is a born loser, but he has a big appetite, seldom wash his hands, always be filthy. That made >>1's body our paradise.
Thanks to >>1, I have grown up to 2.2 meters long.
But one day, >>1 had bad diarrhea because he was teased on 4-CH.
>>1 washed away my little brother Kenta from his bowels. Poor Kenta! He was only eight centimeters long then.
Normally >>1 has enough nourishment to feed me and all my brothers and sisters.
I don't want to see my little sister Haruna lament the loss of other family member.
Ladies and gentlemen, >>1 is a good-for-nothing fellow, indeed, but please be kind to him.

>>1's teacher

I'm Kasumi Aso, being in charge of >>1's class.
>>1 suddenly said to me that he wanted to start up ESS club, when ot was almost end of
the second grade.
But >>1 couldn't make it because not only he coudn't gather his fellows but also that his
efforts for the local high schools' English speech contest had ended up with meanless
winning of a consolation prize. And from those times on, he began to absent school.
I knew from one of my pal that >>1 had bought a PC thru her, but never imagine to see such his aufull status.
I wondered what he had been doing, so went to >>1's home to see him with his two of
classmates, Hikaru and Takumi. We met >>1's mother, who look dreadly tired.
"Sorry but could we hear what is goin on to him?"
"My son has been cloistered himself up in his room for quite a days, never has coming
down to here to eat the meals. Both of my husband and I don't know what to do to him,
when ever we try to talk to him, he roar us saying "Don' bother me asshole!"..."
She sobbed down to the floor. We took it as a permission and went to his room.
">>1, open here. I'm Kasumi."
"Shut up you moron! Go home!"
And very next moment, we heard terrible sound of "Crush!", like he throw a vase or
something at the door.
We saw each others' eyes, and broke into his room with power of three.
What we saw were his totally messed room with trashes, panphlet ads for studying abroads and
Conversation schools, text books for radio English conversation program "yasabiji",
other reference books, collection books of problems, English newspapers and western horny
magazines which must be too difficult for >>1, a postal card that telling his failure to
Eiken exam,,, Above all, ripped documents in half, something like a bulletin of information
for TOEFL test attracted my eyes.
We saw degenerate room, in corner of which he had been weeping at the PC desk.
While two of his friends, Takumi and Hikaru was calming >>1 down, I was absorbed into
the monitor, which reflected 2channel. What I'd seen was English bord, which I've seen
very often. The opened thread was this, "<Title of the thread here>" .
Obviously that thread must be build by >>1, I could tell with its contents.
"You can do nothin cause you can do nothin" is oftenly pasted AA.
This, >>1, might be the one,,, I thought to myself for a second but, I keep my sane
to talk with him.
We understood that this >>1, was told that If he could go study abroad to US or somewhere,
she won't mind to be his girl friend, adding that she would think it's imposible because
he is AWOL from the girl he love, Kotoko Minaduki. That was the reason he wanted to go
study abroad. But he wasn't cool enough to understand her words were none other than a
curse, meaning "Drop dead you digusting shit!"
That's why he had wanted your help on this board, the 2ch English.
You'll find enough good reasons to give you sincere advices here, I'm afraid.
Now I want to show my deepest apologize to all of you on this English board here,
as his teacher. I promise I'll keep my eyes on him and never let him build such
crap thread. I'm terribly sorry.

・・・Disgusting! >>1 is making fool of me taking me as just a kind of Japanese
language teacher. He should know I'm good at English too.

>>1's THREAD

​>>1 has opened this splendid THREAD. Thank you very much, >>1.
I'm most honored to see a THREAD opened by a respectful person as >>1.
I respect >>1 very much. I will tell my children and grandchildren about >>1's exploit.
Whenever I read this THREAD, I feel better as if my whole body is purified.
I wonder why a nice person like >>1 is not invited to the garden party.
I respect >>1 very much.
Take care, and please watch over us.
Thank you again for this lovely THREAD.

>>1's unused brain parts

We are >>1's unused brain parts. We're sorry that >>1 totally missed the point of this thread. We tried to warn the cut&paste lobe, but it went brazenly on, totally missing the point of the thread in its zeal to post a years-old piece of stupidity that has been totally drained of funny and is now a dried out husk of stupidity. In fact, we unused lobes suspect that the cut&paste lobe may have been trying to be ironic in posting something that was both unfunny and off-topic.
We are currently attempting to reroute bloodflow through >>1's brain so that the more intelligent parts can once again take command and make >>1 into a valuable member of society.
Wish us luck. Godspeed!

>>1's what

>>1 could stand, >>1 could stand.

The happy voice of the girl echoed in the mountains of Alps.
Lottenmyer who was the tutor,
was viewing from a distance, and also ran to >>1;
(it is impossibe for him to have a pen forever).
He was sentenced by a doctor, since that he closed his mind;
that >>1's fingers are now moving! They are typing!
Is this the favor of grand nature of Alps?
Or Is this the miracle prodeced by friendly heart of her inoccence ?

(Good enough ...)
One of the staff whispered;
We came Alps to question why >>1 has stood the thread like this
but Compared with this miracle in front of us,
that is no longer problem;
With the goat's cheese that We was presented from a shepherd, Beter,
We was going on the way home...

Mari Yamiguchi

I'm Mari Yaguchi, being shadowed by >>1 here.
I've felt somehow odd feeling so I came here, and just as I had expected,
>>1 had set up a thread like this.
Oops, sorry, this won't be understood to all of you here.
To tell you the truth, I've been tailed by >>1 since a half of year ago.
It's difficult to explain his stickiness and disgustingness in a word, so I mention to
one insident that gave me big impression. it's a story about a package from >>1.
Inside of it, there was a small, opaque bottle and a message card
written with distorted letters.
"Marippe, drink a lot of milk, unless you couldn't grow tall."
To be honest, even this was a little revolting already, I was frightend to give a opening
the cap of it. From that uncapped bottle, nauseating, squidy smell started to give off.
By peeking in the bottle, just as I thought, I found a white, thick liquid in it.

I often say that "geeks are nauseating" in a roundabout way, but it doesn't mean all of you,
except for >>1. I want you to understand that really, please.
Because I'm being an Idle as my job, so it has been hesitated to speak clearly, but I can't
stand this anymore, so let me tell that:
"Hey,>>1! U r really odious and smelly! Or how come U r wearing T-shirt of Minimoni?
It's not the matter of it fits or not, it's on the same level of nuclear contamination
U idiot! U r just makin' images of Minimoni down U C? No one would be sad even if you died,
and thast's the only good deed U could, so never hesitate, just die quickly."
Ah...I'm refreshed by speaking what I've been wanted to, thank you very much everyone.
From this time on, too, I, Mari Yaguchi, is going to do my best in the Morning Musume..
Everybody, root for me. -kiss-

>>1's cell phone

Hi, everybody. I am >>1's cell phone. Nice to meet you.
I am writing this message via Imode.
My owner did a stupid thing again. He has made this thread.
I have to apologize to you guys for him. I really mean it.

>>1's sea monkey

Hello, I am >>1's sea monkey.
It seems that >>1 has started a stupid thread again, but allow me to explain...
First of all, >>1 was born with obesity, had no friends at school, and he quickly became a child confined in his own shell.
>>1's parents felt sorry for him and bought me as a pet. But if it were that easy to fix somebody, humanity wouldn't have so many problems.
After repeated truancy and school transfers, >>1 eventually stopped going to school altogether and became a hikkikomori.
In fact, >>1's parents are so ashamed of him that they are glad he never leaves the house. They bought him a computer to keep his unpleasant existence away from the world...but it was only a matter of time before he discovered 4-ch.
Now >>1 posts stupid threads all the time, then smashes the F5 key like crazy waiting for a reply. Whenever there's an occasional reply, he mumbles to himself "Ufufu, stuuuuupid!"
As for myself, I'm trapped in a tiny aquarium and have to listen to his mumbling and loud keyboard clatter all day long...
From my position in the aquarium I can't help but see his screen, even when I don't want to. The other day I saw >>1 was posting under the name KONOHANA★SAKURA and pretending to be a girl.
Furthermore, he was groaning as if being strangled to death: "Sakura-tan...hnnnggg...s-so...m-m-m-m-m-m-m-moeeeeee!"
Then some white liquid fell into my aquarium.
I can't take this anymore.
I'd rather live in the filthy trough of a pig farm than in >>1's aquarium. Well, I guess >>1 is basically a pig, but anyway...
Oh shit, >>1 just finished jacking off for the seventh time today, and he's coming back to the computer.
Guess it's time to wrap up my monologue.
Everybody, please have some pity for >>1. It's not really his fault that he turned out this way.

And, if you can...please keep the memory of this one little sea monkey in your heart...

Creepypasta

Gideon's Key

There are seven words in every Gideon's Bible - y'know, the ones they stuff in every hotel room - that can't be found in any other bible.

If you repeat those seven words to yourself while grasping the doorknob to your room, the door will open to any hotel room in the world.

Of course, if you want to control where you're going, you'll need to know the Gideon's Key - one more inserted word, unique to each copy, that acts as an index for each room.

Padraic Willoughsby and Co.

There's a small, inconspicious building called "Padraic Willoughsby and Co." in the industrial district of Birmingham, UK. Most of the time, its doors are locked and the windows are draped. However, on February 29th of every leap year, there will be a small plastic container outside the front door containing business cards. On the front of the card it says in large capital letters, "PADRAIC WILLOUGHSBY AND CO. ENGLAND'S THAUMATURGICAL SPECIALISTS". On the back, in nearly inelligibly small type it says "The blood of the innocent." Any night after midnight one can come to Paidraic Willoughsby and Co. and slide their card through the door, and the door will instantly unlock. Inside there is an empty room with white walls. No light reaches this room, except for a small sliver from the other end of the room. When you approach this room you will find that it is actually another door. When you knock on it, a voice will ask "What makes a man become exalted?" and you must respond with the phrase on the back of the card: "The blood of the innocent." The door will open and you will come into another room, a kind of lounge. Inside it you will find around 5-10 people, depending on the night, sitting around smoking and drinking brandy, all in late Edwardian period dress. There is absolutely no conversation at all in this room and, it is nearly silent except for the phonograph which plays the exact same record over and over, ad infinitum. If you attempt to speak to one of the patrons, they will promptly ignore you and pretend as if you were not there. Towards the south wing of the room you will find a large, round table, slightly different from the others. On it will be a quill pen and a document. The document shows all of your personal information: name, birthdate, place of residence, criminal record, greatest fears, etc. At the bottom of the document is a long line that asks for your signature. No one knows what happens after you sign it.

17 People

There are exactly 17 people on this earth fated to kill you. If you somehow manage to avoid these 17 people during your lifetime, you are taken to a place of monumental beauty where you are stripped of all clothing and branded on the space just above your navel with a name. When you are sent back to earth, it's your mission to kill the person branded on you.

Mirrors

1

The images we see in the mirror are the pure incarnates of evil. They are only allowed to exist in the area reflected in the glass. To them, life is like a neverending hell, rotting away in the same room day after day. The only release from this purgatory is death, and the only way for them to die, sad to say, is if YOU die.

Fortunately, they are bound by a code. You are their master, and they must mirror your every movement and expression. To do otherwise would break an unbreakable law, unravelling the space-time continuum. However, there is a loophole, and it can only be triggered by you, the master. To force them into error is to free them from their contract; after you let them out of your view, you're on your own. Know this: when you watch them, they're watching you back. They're watching. And they're thinking.

2

The next time you're alone in your room, turn down the lights. Think of something on your body that varies in length, such as hair. It must be clearly viewable from your perspective. Grab a ruler and, looking in the mirror, quickly grab a hair at random; you must confuse it. Hold it in position as best you can and note the length. Look down. Yours will be different.

Don't look back up.

Don't turn your back to that mirror ever again.

3

The next time you wake up groggy and tired, don't move. Take a glance at your mirror; if you're lucky, you might catch a smile.

4

All mirrors are actually windows to another world.

This world cannot be reached, and shouldn't be reached, as all our mirror-selves are extremely malicious.

Try watching the edge of the mirror after sneaking into a room.

If you're good enough, you can see your reflection, pressing against the glass.

5

Ever wonder why the vampire myths say they don't cast reflections in mirrors?

That's because a mirror isn't a mirror to them. It's a door.

Don't delve deep into their business, do not draw their attention, do not invite their wrath. And if you do, cover every single mirror you own.

6

You ever wonder just WHY people don't like mirrors so much? It's not because they're afraid of the strange world on the other side, no. I'ts because, deep down, they know that a mirror reflects THIS world, just as it is. Too look and see yourself as you really are, that is what everyone's afraid of. The truth.

That doesn't mean there's not a world on the other side, though. And those that inhabit it would dearly like to cross over. If you get yourself alone in a room with a mirror, dim or extinguish the lights and generally make the atomosphere calm enough, they might just stop their charade and talk with you. They'll usually offer you some sort of deal - vast wealth, special powers, love, happiness, whatever you want, in exchange for a few years with them in your place, and you in theirs.

The catch, though, is that you've only got their word that they'll let you back out when the time is up. And it's not really THEM making the offer, but YOU. So before you accept the mirror's offer, ask yourself... if it were YOU trapped in the mirror, and you got out... would YOU keep your word?

7

The Third of December is coming On the 3rd of December in the evening when it's close to 11:34.. if you just happen to have a hand held mirror, something about the size of your face. Cover your face with the mirror, walk into the bathroom, turn the light on, and stand in front of the mirror. Do this preferably before 11:34, so when 11:34 hits raise the mirror upwards, somewhere about your head. What is in the mirror will not be staring back at you, nor will it be your reflection..

It is preferable you never lower that hand held mirror.. because then it will realize what you've done.....

8

At 12:17 am, on any given night, arises the opportunity to awaken an alternate soul. The most common way of viewing them? Through a mirror.

It is through said medium that the process must take place. Begin at exactly midnight. By no light but that of a single candle, stand before the selected mirror. For ten minutes you must concentrate in silence, focused entirely on your reflection. Do not look away from the eyes; for it will be interpreted as weakness and you will be overcome.

After ten minutes have passed you must draw blood to smear in a line across the eyes of your reflection. Doing so will blind it, and you will watch as your own features begin to warp. Slowly, gradually, they will mutate into a frightening creature--one beyond the comprehension of those who have not experienced it. You must not look away through the entirety of the change.

Soon the writhing movements of the image will cease. By now an echoing, inhuman sound will resound all around you--the creature will begin to ease toward the mirror's glass. You must keep watching as it approaches.

If you do not extinguish the candle at exactly 12:17, the creature will escape.

Be warned, should you succeed; through any polished surface--be it mirror, wood, or window--your reflection will always be watching.

Halloween

Rumor has it that every Halloween during the hours of 2am and 5am, there exists a void. You must stand in front of a mirror in a pitch black room with your gaze fixated on the mirror. If you remain in the room when the moment arrives, you will feel a chill seize your body. Place your right hand on the mirror and whisper "I accept." If done correctly, in the mirror there will be a faint image of a fleshless infant with pitch black eyes. He will stare directly into your soul and you will hear the buzzing of flies and nervous whispering. You will not be able to make out the image in the mirror but you will be filled with unspeakable terror. The infant will ask you five questions about events that have occurred within your life. His voice will sound like the rubbing of sandpaper and will be devoid of all emotion. For each question that you answer incorrectly, one of your five senses will be consumed. For each question that is answered correctly, you will be able to recite the name of someone you know. That person will be found dead the next morning, after a night of unimagninable horror, with their flesh removed and their eyes missing.

Ashtrays

Not this shit again.

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.

How to look like an idiot

Find an object in your room roughly the size of your fist. It could be a cup, or a tennis ball, or any other item of medium size. Hold onto your left thumb with your right hand. Lower your left middle finger down, towards the object. This must be done as slowly as possible. If your hand is slow enough, your finger will pass through the object. DO NOT STOP MOVING YOUR HAND. Also, DO NOT REGISTER THIS EVENT IN YOUR BRAIN, as much as this is possible. You are playing with reality itself. The realisation of this violation can cause you to lose your soul

X-Rays

For a brief period in 1971, a New Jersey based company sold novelty "x-ray" glasses through the mail via advertisements in the Marvel line of comic books. People who viewed their televisions while wearing these glasses reported seeing images that were "hellish" or "like hell". It should be noted that this phenomena occured whether the televisions in question were turned on or not. The company quickly went out of business and investigations reveal that the company's address leads to a graveyard founded many decades before 1971.

Necronomicon

There is a book that has only been spoken of in terrified whispers behind closed and locked doors. It is said that only seven people have ever seen this book over the course of all of human history and only four have opened it.

Only one man has ever read it.

The book...isn't really a book at all, but a machine. The binding opens and locks, with a grate in the center where the pages can slide through. When the book is opened, and the pages lie flat, they can be shifted into different positions. Each page is made of metal, the words embossed on it. On each edge of the page is a specially cut design; no two designs are the same. It is said that one must find the proper arrangement of each of the five hundred and thirty six pages and go to the "Rock of Chaos", where time is the only constant. It is a place of madness where lightning moves from all directions and the sky itself burns with an insane blue fire. The Rock is the face of an immense cliff, the bottom of which can never be seen by mortal eyes lest they go blind and mad. Somewhere on the face of the rock there is a single hole, an opening just the right size for the book. Properly aligned, the book must be brought to this "keyhole" at the exact moment specified by the stars and spoken of within the book. One places the book in the hole at the exact moment, and unlocks the Chaos Chain. This is a chain of pure ether, which runs from our world deep into that of the Void, and there, at the Throne of Darkness, the Chain binds that dark soul who rules the Void and would wreak apocalypse on us all: Unenon, the Blind Angel of Darkness.

What the book says...well, only one man ever read it, and it is said that he locked himself in his room for thirty days before emerging, tome in hand, and swore to take the book to the ends of the earth before he died.

He has never been seen or heard from since.

In the heart of the Rockies

Perfect Circle

In the heart of the Rockies, lies a grove of trees growing in a perfect circle. A grove that, aside from this geometric oddity, appears perfectly innocuous from the outside. If one should step foot into this grove however, the inside with be as dark as any moonless night in those mountain woods, even on the brightest summer’s day. Those who have mistakenly wandered into the grove are rarely in any condition to say what happens inside, many simply never come out. However, if you are very brave, or very foolish, you can attempt to camp within the grove. Go in with your eyes shut tight, lie down in your sleeping bag, and no matter what you hear, no matter what you feel, do not open them again. If you somehow manage to find your way to sleep before the grove takes your sanity or your life, you will awaken in the middle of the day to the light of the sun on your face in a the middle of a grove; a grove that, aside from growing in a perfect circle, and containing your heart’s one greatest desire, is perfectly innocuous. If one should step foot outside this grove however, they will find the outside to be dark as any moonless night in those mountain woods.

Dark City

There's a dark forest deep in the heart of the Rockies, surrounded on all sides by mountains. In the center of the forest is a lake on the shores of which you will find a large black stone. If you swim out into the center of the lake, the stone will drag you down into the darkness.

You will emerge from shadows in the alley of a frightening dark city of heavily arched roofs and buildings built on stilts. You must not talk to a single citizen of this city, or you shall be trapped there forever. The citizenry is horrid and mutated, and they will leer and curse at you, and their hideous and deformed women shall offer you unknown and horrible lewdnesses.

At the edge of this city is a highway. Walk down the left side of the road (yes, against traffic) with your thumb out and a man in a dark truck shall pick you up and drive you back the way you came. The city will be gone, and he will take you to any place on earth as long as you can name it and there's a road there.

Castle of Flesh

Under humanity, under civilization, stands a collossal and beautiful castle made from bone and flesh. The bodies belong to every single person who's ever died in a war after killing an enemy - there are millions. Their bodies are twisted with each-other to form eerie swirls, ornaments, gargoyles. If you should ever find yourself facing the castle, you will be looking at something eternal.

If you are brave enough with a pure heart, you will be able to enter the castle and inside it, there will be a throne. On the throne, there will be a man with no clothing but a human skin draped across his old and aged body; he will ask you a single question. Should you answer it correctly, you will ascend past physical form and gain knowledge that the man on the throne has. But he careful, the castle will collapse as millions of souls will be released from his cruel grasp; their moaning will be overwhelming and thunderous, the man will turn to ashes and a scream will fill the putrid air around you.

Should you escape, you will be the most powerful creature in the world...

The only catch is that you will not be able to speak to any human after this and your soul will be as cold as glacier ice.

Room 6

There is an old hotel that has been around for hundreds of years. If anyone was to find themselves staying in Room 6 you would find yourself in an unknown place, where exactly at 12:16 AM the power will go out and you'll find yourself in utter darkness. If you chose to stay awake nothing will happen. But if you so much as close your eyes and fall asleep you will find yourself roaming in an unimaginable pit of despair, where creatures of fathomless shapes and sizes roam. You will be trapped here for hours, until the sun comes up. It is rumored that this room is a gate into hell, and demons use the condensed evil of the room to escape into our reality through our minds. Those who have stayed in there rarely speak of it, for even recalling the night will put them in an uncontrollable frenzy.

Madison, Wisconsin

it is said in a small town south of Madison, Wisconsin called Stoughton, there is a bridge.

This bridge is just south of a bridge crossing a river on main street, and appears to be a foot bridge made of cement. Crossing this bridge leaves one with an unsettling feeling that slowly escilates to dread. These feelings are easily ignored by those who dont believe. However...

Every year this small town holds a parade, the Syttende Mai Parade, and has been holding this for over 100 years. Long before what it is today, it was dedicated to the evil of that bridge. In 1865 it was a wooden footbridge, where on May 20th, two hundred men were hung by their necks though already well dead, by their wives. They were made to suffer first, slowly bleeding into the river untill it ran deep red. Their screams were heard for miles around, as they were ritually sliced open to spill their living bowls into the current of the river below.

Their crime? Nobody knows, all the people involved fled north, and started new homes, new families..new cities..but its said every 150 years..it will happen again.

Susquehana

On the east bank of the Susquehana river somewhere in central Pennsylvania, there is a small patch of ground where no plants will grow. At the right time of day, at the right time of year, the sun shines directly on this spot. If you stand there at precisely this time, a whirlpool in the river will appear, revealing a trap door leading to a system of identical tunnels. If you can successfully navigate through the maze of tunnels, you will find yourself face down in an alley behind an Irish pub called Kelley's just outside Boston, with no memory of how you got there. In your pocket, you will find a day planner. Important events of the future are described within, but in random order and no dates.

Lighthouse

There is a small island in the Mediterranean Sea that does not appear on any map. It cannot be seen from any other island, nor can any other land be seen from it. On this island is a lighthouse, rotting from age and sea water, that is never lit. There is nothing inside it, save for a spiraling staircase that leads to the top, and an ancient, dusty bookcase.

The case is filled with unmarked books, bound in ancient leather, save for a single space. If you remove a book from the shelf, it will fling itself open in your hands, and the words inscribed in it shall start screaming to the air. You must wrestle the book closed and shove it back on the shelf, or the immortal evil contained within its pages shall break free, and you will be forced to take its place, with pages, ink and binding crafted from your own flesh and blood.

However, if you bring the correct book to the island, and place it in the empty space, the lighthouse will light. As long as it is lit, the world shall enjoy an unending paradise, for all the evil in the world will be contained in the lighthouse. And while it is lit, nothing can go in or out.

The only problem; you will be trapped for eternity with all the evil ever known or conceived, by man or god. And the only way to escape, is to douse the light.

Corner in the basement

In almost every building, there is one corner, one small enclosure that no one ever looks at. It's the corner in the basement that has been blocked by a disused sofa for years; the thin space in the attic between the wall and the stacks and stacks of crates full of junk you never use, but could never throw away. The space that never sees the light of day, or any other kind of light at all. Where darkness does not merely dominate, but practically oozes out from around the edges of its prison.

No one knows quite how long a space must remain concealed for it to acquire this particular property, nor if there are any specific conditions it must meet. But it is a far more common occurrence than you might think.

In newer buildings, when this happens, the residents often report feeling cold when passing by, even in attics during the hottest of summers. Whenever contemplating taking a quick peek to see if there is anything actually there, an unnatural dread seizes them, and they leave the room quickly, if not quite running. Once left behind, the feeling passes, and it is quickly forgotten, or laughed off.

What actually happens in these forgotten sanctuaries of the dark? It is impossible to tell. For while many such corners have been exposed to reveal absolutely nothing, some brave souls have lost their sanity through nothing more than an ill-timed glance. The safest thing to do when encountered with such a phenomenon; close your eyes, rip away the area's covering in a single motion, then keep a tight hold on what you've pulled away. No matter what you hear or feel, do not get up, do not look around, and do not try to cover your ears. You might be one of the lucky ones.

Arcadia

The 51st state of the United States, Arcadia, was admitted to statehood on January 17th, 1977. Exactly 4 years to the day later, Arcadia disappeared along with all its residents, and all memory of its existence was erased from every mind in the world. Its precise former location is unknown, though there is rumored to be a map of the type sold in gas stations and convenience stores held under lock and key in the Library of Congress. Also of note are claims of the sporadic delivery of mail from Arcadia, with modern postmarks, to several major American newspapers, the contents of which are said to be written in an entirely unknown and undecipherable language. Unfortunately, those letters to a one have been misplaced and are not available for examination.

Hey, my name is Bruce!

The place that we humans call hell isn't hell at all. It is just a creation of man used as a scare tactic for morality. It got it's name from a old story about the real hell, that was taken out of context by man. There is no eternal suffering, infact the only thing that is eternal is the lifespan of it's enhibitants. It is also not a punishment. Everyone goes there when they die. Unlike the earth it is flat and it goes on forever. It is filled with all manners of terrain from snowy forests to rivers of lava. Rumor is that if you go out into the infinate expansion in the right direction farther than any human has ventured, you will find the beings that originally spoke of Hell and confused whe writers of the bible. They will tourture you for so long that you lose your grasp of time. They will then ask you your name. If you answer correctly you will be a slave to them forever but will have many of your dreams and fantasies acted out. If you answer wrong you will cease existance and everyone you have ever known in both worlds will forget you. However is you answer "Bruce" you will become one of them.

And before you ask anyone who claims to be named bruce is a liar.

The other Earth

Remember this -

should you ever despair of life so much that you want to die, you have the means at hand and yearn to end your life, you have written a suicide note to those you will leave behind and you are prepared to die....at that moment, stop.

Get a pair of scissors. Cut away at the note until you end up with a piece of paper in the shape of a key. Go to a door, any one will do. Push the paper key forward and turn your hand as if unlocking an imaginary lock.

The lock is real. Open the door. There you will find it. The other earth. The one that awaits to replace this one when it dies. That death is inevitable, but in the meantime the other earth will belong to you.

Be warned: the other earth is very different from this one.

No Water

It is said that during 11 pm on any Sunday, eat a banana and dont drink water. at 12 midnight, look in the mirror for 7 seconds and then sleep. In the middle of your sleep, you will encounter a figure who will give you water, he or she is your soulmate. However, at that precise moment, you SHOULD wake up. If you stay asleep for even less than a second, the exact image of your death and your soulmate's will flash before you. Give it a try, you will be amazed at what you see. I know I did.

-emailed by Ernest Kell, WTC victim, few moments before his death.

State of the Union

If you watch every State of the Union Adress since it's been filmed and available on tape, you'll see that halfway through--exactly halfway through--the President always says the same word. Most say it under their breath during the standing ovations, but some are forced to work it into the speech itself.

What's the word? You don't want to know.

First level of hell?

There's a small building somewhere in north western America, up along the border between Oregon and Washington. It's just this short little old shack in the woods off the highway. Anyways, inside, there's a spiral staircase made of grating that goes straight down. If you go all the way down, you'll find yourself stepping out into an endless field of tall grass. There are many bones surrounding the bottom step of the stairs, and things move in the near distance. Nobody who has ever seen these things has come back to say what they are.

Such a lovely place

They say that somewhere in western America, some say in Utah, others say on the California coast, there's a small motel on the side of the road. When you go inside, it's decorated in very common hotel attire, with the panelling and old fashioned key-lock doors. The thing is, there's a room in there for everybody. Everybody has a reservation for exactly when they show up, and the number of rooms available is always one more than the number of people there. One person to a room, that is the rule. Some say that the song "Hotel California" is based off this motel, though you *can* leave this particular motel. I wouldn't advise looking at a mirror for at least a month after doing so, though.

Nightwish

The actual lyrics to every song by Nightwish are nothing more than long strings of vowel sounds. It is a natural self defense mechanism of the brain to process them as words. A human being incapable of doing so would immediately lapse into a coma.

7 Springs, A Tree, and a Cave

In the hills surrounding the town of Bodega Bay in California, there is a tree, sitting right in the crook of two hills. Scattered 10 paces around it are 7 different fresh-water springs. It is said that one of them cures any disease, another grants immortal life, 4 will kill you instantly and cause your body to dissolve into powder. But the last spring is special. If you bottle water from this one and take it to a small cave hidden in the hills north of the tree, you will find a single large stone at the back of the cave. If you then splash the water on the stone, it will dissolve, leaving you a baseball-sized red stone. As long as you have this stone in your possession, you will always be in the right place at the right time. If you pour water from any of the other 6 springs on the rock, the cave will seal up, and you will be lost forever under the earth.

The Swiss Franc

If you take any Swiss Franc note and expose it to microwaves, it will curl up and ignite. Once it's cooled down, you'll find a fine powder that, when ingested, will kill you painlessly. A 10 franc note has enough poison to kill a family of four.

The fiery ass of the earth

The Antarctic ice only reaches some 800 km inland. After that is a slowly rising plain of volcanic gravel swept by gravity-driven winds from the hub of the conical continent, on top of which is the true South Pole. No satellite images exist of the ice-free inland. The pics you see are either stretched from existing photos (such as the one in Google Earth) or photoshopped.

Movies that keep you up

There's a movie theater in downtown Phoenix, Arizona that only plays movies from 1987. If you pay for 3 tickets and buy a large popcorn, they will play a film that shows you your future. If you watch the entire film completely, you will have sleeping problems for the rest of your life.

Halloween images

The 666th frame of every Halloween-themed movie, cartoon, or TV special depicts a basement with a corpse moldering in the corner; these frames are often removed from the final film, but one can find them on occasion. If you were to put the frames together, in chronological order of the release of the film it comes from, a short film is revealed. The film depicts the corpse's violent death in reverse. The final frame will be a picture of yourself, sitting before your tv, viewing the final frame of the film.

Modern shamans

African miners say that beneath the earth's crust is a layer of wiring, cogs, and gears known as the mechanosphere. They say the whole setup is what really makes the world go round, and that if someone were to undestand how all the pieces fit together and interact they'd be able to tell the eventual fate of man kind.

Worse than Cocaine

The secret ingredient in Coke isn't known even to its creator. Supposedly the guy who invented Coke made a deal with a demon-posessed guy--the demon puts in a final ingredient, one that will be in all Cokes ever made until the End Times, and the guy's product will outlast his own life. They're making so many new kinds of Coke because the secret ingredient, whatever it is, isn't showing up anymore. They're trying to mask the taste.

Black Aggie

At a graveyard in Baltimore, there's a life-sized statue of a woman sitting on a bench, looking sorrowful and having her arms outstretched. Her name was Agnes. If you sit in her lap from dawn until dusk on any ordinary night, nothing will happen. However, if you try it on a night where the moon is full, you will die. Aggie has a superhuman grip, and she will keep you locked in her arms until you die. And the expression of sorrow will be replaced by one of triumph.

Leon Czolgosz

Leon Czolgosz, assassin of William McKinley, the the 25th President of the United States, was electrocuted for his crime on October 29, 1901, at Auburn Prison in Auburn, New York. Among the personal effects found in his cell was a U.S. quarter stamped with the date 2218. The face in profile on said quarter was not George Washington, but rather a face which has yet to be identified.

Jesus is a frisbee

An employee at a frisbee plant had a vision of Christ and was told that he was to be gifted with the power of performing miracles and be the first prophet of Christ since biblical times. When he came out of the vision he felt an immense wave of energy flow through he body. Unfortunately he promptly fell into a vat of hot plastic and was killed instantly. No one was around to witness this event so his body was left to dissolve in the plastic. Now there are exactly 553 frisbees which contain parts of this man. If you collect all of them and methodically eat them until you have absorbed all of the man you will summon the arch-angel Michael who will then do your bidding for 40 days.

Polybius

In Portland, Oregon in 1981, an unheard-of new arcade game appeared in several suburbs, something of a rarity at the time. This game was called "Polybius". The game proved to be incredibly popular, to the point of addiction, and queues formed around the machines, quickly followed by clusters of visits from men in black. Rather than the usual marketing data collected by company visitors to arcade machines, they collected some unknown data, allegedly testing responses to the psychoactive machines. The players themselves suffered from a series of unpleasant side-effects — amnesia, insomnia, nightmares, night terrors, and suicide appearing as having been caused by the game in various versions of the legend. Some players stopped playing video games, while it is reported that one became an anti-gaming activist.

Mailbox of the wise

There's a mailbox somewhere in the city which can solve your most dire problems.

Which city? That depends on who you ask. There may even be more than one, who knows? Anyway, this mailbox isn't emptied anymore - the mail service has completely forgotten about it. But it clings on. It islolated in some relatively unlikely place, so you won't spot it immediately. Mail you put inside it won't go anywhere.

But the box is special. Write a letter about your most pressing problem to the persons in charge of dealing with it: write to your significant other, your boss, the IRS, and get it all off your chest. Write yourself into deep shit with that letter. You'll see that the problem will dissolve soon, in some way you hadn't thought likely.

The snag, of course, is that you can't really be sure whether you have found the right mailbox until you try it. And if you haven't, things are going to get much worse once your letter gets delivered...

Wyoming prison toilet

A man in Wyoming was sentenced to life in prison for unknown reasons. He died 5 days after being incarcerated. When they searched his cell, they found that his toilet flushed the opposite direction.

House of Leaves

A degenerated VHS dub was discovered in the University Library containing five minutes of inexplicable amatuer footage. In one continuous shot, the camera momentarily focuses on a doorway on the north wall of a living room before the operator climbs outside of the house through a window to show the exterior white clapboard. The camera then moves inside the house through a second window completely circling the doorway and so proving, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that insulation or siding is the only possible thing this doorway could lead to. A hand appears in the frame and pulls open the door, revealing a narrow black hallway at least ten feet long. The camera begins to move closer, threatening to actually enter it. A voice can be heard, "Don't you dare go in there again, Davy," to which another voice adds, "Yeah, not such a hot idea."

A recipe for success

Prominently displayed in the children's section of the Houston Downtown Public Library, among several others of the same title, My First Cookbook appears as a run-of-the-mill children's cookbook, complete with large print, simple instructions, colorful, friendly illustrations and a somewhat disproportionate desert section. In fact, the only major deviation from this theme is an article near the end of the book entitled "A Recipe for Success". This is a complex, macabre ritual involving human sacrifice, self mutilation and sacrilege, as well as more curious and innocuous practices such as walking down a stair case with a prime number of stairs taking them two at a time and then up it taking them three at a time. It's written in the same cheerfully simple prose as the rest of the book and accompanied by the same helpful, pastel drawings.

The Wolf of Hendrix's Guitar

The ashes of the guitar burned by Jimi Hendrix at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival were saved by a stage technician and passed along to "The Legion", a sect of the Hell's Angels which practiced ritual magick. The ashes were mixed with blood and clay and formed into a talisman with the rough appearance of a wolf. Possession of the talisman confers upon its hold numerous talents, including telepathy, precognition, enhanced strength, and prodigious sexual prowess. It is legend among cycle clubs and gangs to this day that the world will end when the talisman is broken.

Denver Airport Murals

Denver international airport is a strange place. When walking through the hospitality areas the walls are painted with murals. Many of these murals are quite innocuous, depicting sunrises, cityscapes and wildlife. Three of the murals, however, are quite different. One depicts a young aryan boy (caucasian, blonde, and blue-eyed) dressed in a way strongly resembling the hitler youth uniform, beating farming implements into swords while other children watch on in awe. Another shows a burning cityscape in the background, flames rising into the sky, while a native american woman cradles two children, one of them wrapped in a shroud, quite obviously dead and dessicated. Finally, the third mural features a man in a dictatorial military uniform (complete with black leather gloves and boots and a long, matching cape), wearing a gasmask and wielding some kind of strange energy sword. Many people think he resembles Darth Vader, while being much more unsettling. These three murals have since been altered, but why were they painted in such a strange fashion in the first place? What purpose do these grim images have in an Airport? What's behind the closed drapes concealing portions of the walls next to these odd paintings? These paintings are very real, look them up.

Believers

Belief is a powerful thing. Well, not your belief: your opinions couldn't be less important. But there is someone, and there always has been someone, who can control the universe by his powers of belief. You see, at any given moment the universe is controlled by what one particular man believes. All things, right down to the laws of physics, are subject to instantaneous change as soon as one dies and another is chosen. Amelia Airheart? Disappeared when the new Believer couldn't fathom a female aviator. Ever wonder why Newton's seemingly obvious laws of motion took so long to come around? Well, for thousands of years all the Believer's put their stock in Aristotle's physics. Believers don't even know about their powers, and it is flat out impossible to tell who is one.

Observe and Absolve

There is an abandoned mental hospital at the top of a hill in Worcester, Massachusetts. Once every 5 years an old rusty box spring appears within the courtyard of the hospital. If you can sneak inside and sleep through the night on the bed, in the morning a man with a shirt that reads "Observe and absolve" will take out his wallet and give you a picture. This picture will show you how you will die. If the picture is of the man standing before you, running won't help.

Boston Houseboat

In a private terminal at the Port of Boston there is a houseboat. This houseboat has been anchored there, permanently, for at least 50 years. The eccentric owner has maintained all fees and taxes and is in good standing with the Port Authority.

Still, even if the owner wasn't finacially responsible, no one would ask them to depart. Despite the owner's friendly, hospitable, if odd nature, there is a persistent air of unease around the boat and the area of the Port surrounding.

Very few people have taken the owner up on offers of hospitality, but those who do recount a wholly unbelievable tale:

When you step into the houseboat, it's as if you're sent backwards 50 years in time. Looking out windows depicts a cityscape of antiquity and the television recieves live broadcasts of programs of the era (including news programs). If you look out the open door, you see the city as it stands today. When the door closes, you can see the 50 year old skyline through the port opening.

Some visitors who spend time with the owner notice something particularly disturbing: an almost uncanny resemblance to their host, despite obvious age differences. Though this is odd, the owner is friendly and trustworthy (ignoring the air of unease most feel), so it isn't surprisng if casual friendships build between a guest and the proprietor.

All this would, of course, be very strange and worthy of note, but dismissed as some form of elaborate hoax or illusion, if it weren't for one additional detail.

Whenever someone elects to spend the night in this houseboat after an evening of conversation and a few drinks, they are never heard from again.

When the guest awakens in the morning, the owner is nowhere to be found and suddenly, the city skyline never changes back to its contemporary appearance when exiting the boat.

Under the bed there is a briefcase full of $100 bills with a letter stapled to a list.

The letter simply reads, "You have 50 years to follow these instructions if you wish to free yourself from this hell. The clock is ticking. Get to work."

The Price of Power

There is a moment each leap year, at exactly three minutes past three on the morning of February twenty-ninth. If you possess the courage, await that moment in darkened room, with no other present. At that moment, the darkness will deepen. If you were to hold you hand directly before your face, you would not see a thing. But you must not do so. No, for that would be to waste the moment. Instead you must reach out, into that impenetrable darkness.

And it will reach out to you.

An unseen hand will grasp yours. You must not flinch away, nor tighten your grasp. To do so will only slough away more of the decrepit flesh that covers it, and anger its unseen owner. Remain perfectly still, as the withered fingers move over your palm, tracing unknown patterns. Do not move an inch as it crawls slowly up your arm. And most of all, do not even breathe as it caresses your face, touching what cannot be seen.

Should you remain still through this, the hand will be withdrawn and a voice will speak, so close you can feel its breath on your face, smell the scent of decay it carries. It will ask you for one simple piece of information: your name. Answer truthfully. Answer truthfully, and the presence will retreat, leaving only a whisper in the air as the darkness lifts. "It is done."

From that day on, untold good fortune will be yours, and mysterious power. You will lack nothing, and have everything. But in a year, perhaps two, you will feel your skin begin to decay, and smell the sweet smell of death upon your breath...

The Price of Power II

In Central Australia, there is an unremarkable service station along a straight and barren stretch of road. If you walk straight in and ask for the key, you will be given an unremarkable key attached to an unremarkable piece of wood. The key will unlock a door at the service station, leading to an impossibly long stepped corridor, dimly lit from an unseen source. If you follow these stairs, you will begin to hear hungry cries of birds of prey that grow louder as you descend. After an amount of time, the light will vanish, leaving you in the dark, and a rasping voice will ask for your desires. For each desire, you will experience all the sensations, unforgettable, branded into your memory, of bodily mutilation, of being torn asunder by impossible strength, of having an arm slowly flayed, each nerve individually pulled from your flesh. You may speak as many desires as your sanity can take. Then you must turn and return up the steps and never look back. Return the key and go about your life. Your desires will be granted, but you will always have to live with the memories given to you in that dark place.

James Albrecht

The Manhattan Project was started in 1942 to develop the first nuclear explosive for use against the enemies of the U.S. In July 1943, Dr. James Albrecht, one of the project scientists, was accused of spying for the Germans. Albrecht's coworkers noted in interviews that the man "stopped talking to anyone" and "seemed especially aloof, even for a scientist." Just days before his trial, Albrecht disappeared, leaving a wife and two children.

On November 17, 1998, Albrecht suddenly showed up at his younger son's home in Springfield, New Mexico. Upon realizing that the man was his father, Ethan Albrecht, at the time 81 years old, invited him in and tried to figure out what happened. However, within hours of Dr. Albrecht's reappearance, FBI agents arrived and took him away, to his son's protest.

In an interview with a local newpaper, Ethan noted that "[Dr. James Albrecht] hasn't aged a day. He looks as young as my son." The scientist also seemed to suffer from amnesia, constantly asking where his wife was and when his trial is. To this day, the government denies that Albrecht ever existed.

Dr. James Albrecht was 68 years old when he was invited to join the Manhattan Project.

Meteorite

In 1990, a small meteorite was sighted in the night sky by the Hubble telescope. It appeared to be on a collision course with earth, but calculations showed that it was far too small and moving far too slowly to be a threat to our home planet.

In 1997, the long-forgotten meteorite entered the atmosphere. It did not burn away, as scientists predicted; it barely even grew warm. Even so, it landed without drawing much attention on the outskirts of a village in the middle of Africa, on the edge of the Sahara.

Three months later, a safari expedition vanished while en route through the jungle. They never reached their checkpoint, within walking distance from the desert.

A research team in 1998 happened on the impact crater of the meteorite by chance. They detected high levels of radiation in the crater, though they could not identify what element had caused it. They drove to the nearby village to warn the locals of the danger, but the settlement was completely empty. Not a soul nor a body could be found for miles around. The only evidence of life left, current or past, were the long-abandoned grass huts, and a great number of footprints leading into the sands of the Sahara. None of the footprints could be matched against any living creature on record.

The Crossroads

There is a certain road near the Everglades in Florida, which, if you drive down it alone in the rain, day or night, you will suddenly have a very real feeling of being completely lost. Your radio will turn to static, your CDs will skip, and your tapes will play slower than normal. If you try to find a map in your car, it will have mysteriously vanished.

If you continue forward down the road for more than a minute, you will find that you can't turn around, and everything behind you is pitch dark. There are no other roads and no other cars.

Continuing down the road, you will come upon a fork with no signposts. In the middle of the fork, there will be a man, covered head to foot in various pieces of clothing. The only skin visible will be around his eyes, which will be bright green.

You must get out of your car, but do not turn it off or close the door after you. You must approach the man, but stop at least three feet away. You must stand there silently, waiting for him to speak first. If you break the silence first, you will find yourself back on a main road, but you will die within 24 hours.

If he speaks first, he will ask you what you require. Tell him that you need to know which road will take you to your destination. He will then ask you what you will offer him in exchange for his assistance. If you offer him a ride, he and your car will disappear, and you will become the new guardian of the crossroad. If you offer him an umbrella, he will take it and stab you through the chest. If you offer him your love, he will take your heart still beating from your chest and eat it, condemning you to walk the earth without a heart, insane from the pain and loss.

You must offer him your loyalty and kneel before him. If you do this, he will close his eyes and bow in return, extending a hand to whichever path will lead you back to safety.

If you try to run from him, you will be dead before you reach your car, and your body will be found back in your car in some random location.

Real Population of Earth

You'd be surprised to learn how few actual people there really are in the world.

Astral Projection

The first thing you must do is stay up for about six hours longer than you usually do. Not to where you are delerious, but just long enough to start nodding off. Next, play some music that you like, I would almost say that it MUST be your favorite band, but I havent experimented much in that respect. Play it as loud as you can and still get to sleep. If you cant hear the lyric clearly, it isnt loud enough. Now lay down on your stomach with a pillow under your chest. You must turn the lights off for this to work, without pitch blackness the proccess will fail. Now keep your eyes open, but put yourself in a restful state and think of sleep and how tired you are. Now this is the hard part. You will be teleported outside, in a random direction and distance, and most of the time you will become stuck halfway in the ground. IF THIS HAPPENS, run back towards your body (you will instictually know what direction it is in) and try to blink rapidly. You will wake up, but for the rest of the night you wont be able to shake an odd presense in the room and will have bouts of nighthag for weeks.

The mural of human fate

Every 23,375 days, exactly at 12:04PM (at exactly 64 equal rotations of the planet) at zero degress latitude, and zero degrees longitude, the tide of the ocean will suddenly drop, a building roughly the size of three city blocks, covered with bas reliefs will rise suddenly from the depths. This building will then begin to sink immediately, and will submerge completely within 2 minutes. According the eyewitness accounts, the reliefs depict certain famous events in human history, including events that had not yet happened.

Mind Control Spores

Among the undergrowth through which the stink ant forages daily in Cameroon, West Central Africa, lurks a hidden danger. A fungus, with spores that cannot be seen by the naked eye. A fungus that is easily absorbed into the most readily available host-- the ant. These spores lodge in its brain, growing and causing the small creature to seemingly lose its grip on sanity. The unfortunate arthropod then shrieks and cries loud enough for the human ear to detect. Then suddenly.. there is method in the madness. This ground-dwelling ant begins to climb.. and climb.. and climb.. until reaching the ideal height for the fungus to reproduce. It then latches on to the tree and waits for sweet death. After another two weeks, a spike emerges from the head of the ant-- a spike with a bright orange tip. Eventually, it explodes, showering spores down on the forest floor below. The forest floor where more ants crawl..

Not exactly scary for us, but think about it-- mind-controlling fungus. And what of other fungi, like the so-called harmless Podaxis pistillaris, an edible desert mushroom..? There have been a few reports of it lodging its spores in human flesh, causing strange growths, oozing sores and odd neural sensations. Funny.. the spores didn't burst forth until humans were nearby.

Maybe the world isn't as safe as we thought..

Overkill

Just east of Brevard, North Carolina is a small, dilapidated farmhouse at the border of a field and a forest. Near the back of it, under a pile of rotted hay, is a small trap-door that opens up to a room with a spiral staircase running upwards, almost unbelievable as the ground should technically be only a few feet overhead. If you ascend this staircase, an old, burlap cloak-wearing woman who speaks in tongues will hand you a featureless silver coin and disappear. If you take that coin to New York City and show it to any homeless man or woman on the street, they will whisper to you of a secret well hidden deep within Central Park that can only be found by following a certain route. If you throw the coin into the well at midnight, a voice will speak to your mind and tell you of a cave in western Minnesota. At the bottom of that cave lies a portal, and beyond that portal lies a world unknown to any man on earth, for none who have entered this world have ever returned.

Cannibal Germans

In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favour: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed.

She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She went to the police, who raided the address on the envelope, where they found heaps of human flesh for sale.

And what was in the envelope? "This is the last one I am sending you today."

Bad Dream

"Daddy, I had a bad dream."

You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it's 3:23.

"Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?"

"No, Daddy."

The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room. "Why not sweetie?"

"Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up."

For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

Wristband

When you are admitted to a hospital, they place on your wrist a white wristband with your name on it. But there are other different colored wristbands which symbolizes other things. The red wristbands are placed on dead people.

There was one surgeon who worked on night shift in a school hospital. He had just finished an operation and was on his way down to the basement. He entered the elevator and there was just one other person there. He casually chatted with the woman while the elevator descended. When the elevator door opened another woman was about to enter when the doctor slammed the close button and punched the button to the highest floor. Surprised the woman reprimanded the doctor for being rude and asked why he did not let the other woman in.

the doctor said "that was the woman i just operated on. She died while I was doing the operation. Didn't you see the red wristband she was wearing?"

the woman smiled and raised her arm "something like this?"

Dargaia's Nectar

If you ever find Dargaia's nectar, you'll probably be one of the ones who have been looking for it all their lives, and thus won't need any instructions on what to do with it.

Just the same, it's pretty simple, at least to start with. Make sure your affairs are in order (incase you have a bad reaction), and then? Bottoms up.

The coming months are the least pleasant part. You'll find yourself unable to keep food down long before you're far enough along to stop needing it. Same with sleep. The color of your blood will be off, and your veins will consequently stand out more. Expect a few ingrown body parts; little things, just fingers and ears and teeth, usually pressing up against the skin. Make sure you're caught up on your booster shots because you're never going in for a checkup again. Or wearing anything more revealing than a trenchcoat in public, most likely.

Eventually, a little cut on your belly will start 'unhealing', becoming a puss-filled wound in a few days. Over the coming week, Three things will emerge from this.

The first object resembles a greasy black beachnut with maybe a tooth or two growing from it. When you're dead someone will eventually find it and use it to make a new batch of dargaia's nectar. Hide it well, make things fun for future generations.

The second object basically looks like a softball-sized cluster of veins, many of them broken and leaking oily black stuff, all wrapped around something. Then it'll squirm and you'll notice the twisted little skinless fetus in the middle. It will only survive for about twenty seconds. Burn the remains.

The third object will.. well, let's just call it "object 3". It's easier that way.

You can plant it anywhere you want. I advise some place where you don't mind spending all your time and no one else would go. Your back yard or under your cellar works if you don't have any roomates; as long as there's fertile soil. Dig at least five feet down. It won't want to be buried, but just keep piling dirt onto it (if you can still hear it when you're finished you didn't go deep enough).

Its veins (or roots, I guess) will eventually spread in all direction about a foot and a half for every year of your life. Grass and weeds will grow stiff and bony, or black and oily, or take on the color and texture of a spider bite, or rice paper. Wood will be infected too; you'll hear the arteries in your walls pulsing on quiet nights. The ground will rot with dead insect and animal life. Don't mow your lawn; it bleeds like hell.

This is your sanctuary.

No matter what threats or injuries beset you outside, here you will be safe and healthy. Well, what passes for 'healthy' for you now. And if you really hate someone, bring them here. Trick them into coming. They'll get infected, one way or another; a lungfull of spore, a thornprick, a bit of residue on their hand. They will blood-vomit and the blood will have tiny centipedes in it. They'll shit out their own spinal fluids. Their eyes will milk over and hatch; little spines and brambles will grow from the sockets. They'll survive for months or years, doctors will be baffled, it will be completely fucking great.

That's all for starters. You'll learn more as you go. Much more. But if I told you everything now you might not do it.

Whatever you do, just guard it with your life, with your very soul. If you think you're in danger of loosing it, dig it up, kill it with a silver needle, let someone else make a new one some day. You'll feel as if you've pierced your own heart, but it's better than letting it fall into the wrong hands.

Because you're a Holder now.

And you'd better not let them come together.

Hitchhikers

There are stories about a certain kind of hitchhiker - they only ever appear at night on quiet roads, seeming to flicker into existence in the very edge of headlights, never carrying a sign, always with an expression of deep despondency on their faces, swathed in a heavy coat and long pants, usually with gloves. If you stop, they will seem cordial enough, polite, but hardly chatty. They will assure you that the next town or city along your route will be a fine spot to leave them. Normal enough. Unless you try killing them.

They die easily enough. But look underneath their clothes, and you will see that their skin is marred with lines of scars, forming repeating patterns that are unsettling to look at, and even more unsettling in the context of their skin. They have no wallets, no identification. If you slice their belly open, however, they're different inside. There's no blood, no muscle, only a hollow cavity containing a single object. The object varies. Examples include a single coin, heavy and golden and engraved with runes nobody could ever decipher. A diamond gem with fractal edges that slice bare flesh to ribbons. A small vase, quite unbreakable, that smells of the ocean and is always damp...

Once you possess a hitchhiker's object, you'll find yourself always driving the quiet roads at night. You'll never mean to, but somehow, you just will. The lure of possessing a second one will hum quietly in your head. You'll strain to catch sight of a figure appearing in your headlights, try to resist the impulse to stop, and sometimes you might. But sometimes you won't. You'll try telling yourself that this is just a normal person on an adventure, someone who ran out of petrol. The logical part of your brain will scream at what you're doing. You'll smile and nod and they'll get into the car and you'll slowly, casually, reach under the seat or across to the glove box...

The Stone and the Box

In every forest there exists a clearing. It is perfectly round and there is nothing inside but grass and a large stone. Go to the stone and roll it to the left (it doesn't matter where you entered from) and begin digging. After you get about 2 meters into the ground, the ground will get harder and harder, but you must continue using your hands to dig. After 3 or so more meters and after the ground has become nearly impossible to dig through, you will find a box. Inside you hold the lives of your children, whether they've been born or not. Your children will live safe lives as long as the box is kept well, but any damage to the box will transfer. If you open it they will die. Do with it what you will but remember this:

As soon as the box is removed from the ground, a never-ceasing beast is awakened whose sole purpose is to retrieve and open it.

CAWWWWWWWWWWW

Out in the barrens of western Montana, there is a rock shaped like a raven's head with half of the beak broken off. If you use your forearm to complete the beak and hold the position for seven minutes and 26 seconds, you will feel a tingling sensation in your arm. You must then get at least 1 mile away from the rock within the next 66 seconds.

If you do this, you will be able to shape shift into any bird, at will.

If you begin the process and fail, you will turn into a crow and never be able to return to human form.

Never going to Decard

There is a child in a hospital in Decard, Tennessee. The child is a quiet toddler that remains in the nursery with all the other newborns. If you ask the staff, they will ignore you, but the tag on his arm is yellowed and marked 1948. He will not cry, only rock quietly. If you speak the name on his tag, his eyes will open, something you don't want to happen.

Negative Spot

Look behind you. What do you see? Invariably, there will be a wall somewhere in your view. Now stare deeply into the space on the wall that lines up best with your eyes. Nothing will happen, but make sure you are clear on where this particular spot is. That spot contains all the negativity in your mind. Whenever you are on your computer, reading scary stories or whatever you do, sometimes you will get spooked. What do you do when this happens? You check behind you, thats what you do. As you read this now, a feeling of dread will come over you. Check the spot. Nothing again, huh? Thats because right now, all the evil is locked safely in your mind. Some people, upon learning of this "negative spot" resolve to remove the spot in an attempt to remove the negative energy. This is a grave mistake. You must never let harm come to this spot. If you do, you will have released the energy. Now when you sit at your computer at night, you will feel chills even in the summer time. The feeling of dread that only presented itself when you were genuinely scared will now hang in the air constantly. Within a week you and your loved ones will have a string of bad luck. Within a month your computer will begin to act erratic and eventually break down. On the anniversiary of the spot's destruction, you will dream of your most horrible fears. The dream will seem to go on forever, and when you wake up you will notice your vision has darkened. Every year on the same day, the dream will repeat itself, and your vision will grow darker and darker. After you go totally blind, dont ever turn your back on that spot again. That is if you can still tell where it is.

The Red Baron

An odd occurance has been rumored to happen in a certain pub at night in southwest Germany. If you sit in the stool farthest from the door while one beside it is empty, order a round for yourself and offer to "buy one for the Baron". The bartender will without question or expression will pour 2 beers from tap. He'll place one beside you and the moment the other one hits the table the room will go dark and silent, save for the sound of footsteps as a man in uniform sits beside you.

It is believed that it is indeed Captain Manfred von Richthofen, although no one is sure because they can barely see their own glass, much less the person's face. No one who's told this story has had the nerve you touch him or risk insult, and the figure does not say a word. But apparently if you were to ask him "So sir, what's the condition at the front?" he would tell you startling details about the region's future and sometimes how they connect to the world as a whole.

Those who lived long enough after the fact claim that these events took place the exact about of years from the date they asked as from the date Baron von Richthofen died in battle. Yet this cannot be confirmed, because every time the figure has been asked the question after 1964 he's only replied with a cold laugh.

Killer Books

Somewhere in the world, there is a collection of books. Perhaps it's in a dusty, unpainted shelf in the back corner of someone's attic, perhaps it's in a set of musty boxes in the basement of some tiny, obscure library. It contains a few hundred volumes, all handwritten, ranging from leatherbound volumes with yellowing pages two hundred years old through to modern spiral-bound notebooks. All of them are diaries, some by famous people, some by not-so famous people, but all by the most horrific madmen and murderers the world has ever known. And the collection is growing. For if you ever find it, you will hear a faint scratching sound, coming from the newest volume of the set. This volume will be new, and filled with blank pages, except for the first. On this first page, you will find the beginning of your own diary, written in your own hand.

Trunk

During a wedding reception of a young couple the guests decided on a drunken game of hide and seek. It was decided that the groom was "it" and he eventually found everyone but his new bride. Eventually the man became furious and decided it wasn't funny anymore and left her there. As weeks went by he accepted that she'd had second thoughts and went on with her life so he did the same. A few years later a cleaning lady dusted off an old trunk in the attic of the building where the reception had taken place, out of curiosity she opened it. Inside the trunk was the rotted body of the missing bride who'd apparently became locked in the trunk she'd hid in. Whether she'd suffocated or starved was unknown, but her face was frozen in a scream.

Oven

During the summer of 1983, in a quiet town near Minneapolis, Minnesota, the charred body of a woman was found inside the kitchen stove of a small farmhouse. A video camera was also found in the kitchen, standing on a tripod and pointing at the oven. No tape was found inside the camera at the time.

Although the scene was originally labeled as a homicide by police, an unmarked VHS tape was later discovered at the bottom of the farm's well (which had apparently dried up earlier that year).

Despite its worn condition, and the fact that it contained no audio, police were still able to view the contents of the tape. It depicted a woman recording herself in front of a video camera (seemingly using the same camera the police found in the kitchen). After positioning the camera to include both her and her kitchen stove in the image, the tape then showed her turning on the oven, opening the door, crawling inside, and then closing the door behind her. Eight minutes into the video, the oven could be seen shaking violently, after which point thick black smoke could be seen emanating from it. For the remaining 45 minutes of video, until the batteries in the camera died, it remained in its stationary position.

To avoid disturbing the local community, police never released any information about the tape, or even the fact that it was found. Police were also not able to determine who put the tape in the well.

Sleep

I can't say where/when or how often this will work, but I've tried it a few times with mixed results. If for some reason you find you can't sleep one night, indigestion, test the next day, hard mattress, too many creepy threads, whatever, close your eyes and start to play a slow and deliberate game of patty-cake. If you keep it up long enough you may start to feel a pair of something coming back to meet your hands from the void. Congratulations, you've just summoned your first... something. I can't say it's important not to open your eyes at this point, but I didn't anyway. The first time I tried this was in my apartment when I had a presentation to give the following morning, a real toss-turn kind of night. For whatever reason I sat up and decided to put one hand out before me and I felt a faint tingle from a rather low angle. I unconsiously started to play and after a while I noticed I was humming some sort of tuneless lulliby. After about an hour or so whatever was playing on the other end stopped and I went into a deep, dreamless and very restful sleep. I tried this trick again at my girlfriend's parents house while she was with me in their crappy spare bed (I was facing back to her, legs over the side of the bed, eyes closed). After about twenty minutes this time it actually felt like a pair of solid hands, from a much higher angle than before, was coming back and hitting mine a bit harder every time. Suddenly the game stopped and something made a noise in my right ear like a human shriek combined with car breaks causing me to cringe before it ran up the wall behind me into the ceiling. Maybe whatever was in that house had outgrown the game. I still slept ok. For all I know I was just hitting the wall/my blanket tiring my own gullible self out and my girlfriend's just a noisy bitch but... I still can't wait to try it again the next time I can't sleep. Still not sure what happens if you open your eyes, though.

Mailbox

There's a mail box somewhere in the city which can solve your direst poblems.

Which city? That depends on who you ask. There may even be more than one, who knows? Anyway, this mail box isn't emptied anymore - the mail service has completely forgotten about it. But it clings on. It is located in some relatively unlikely place so you won't spot it immediately. Mail you put inside it won't go anywhere.

But the box is special. Write a letter about your most pressing problems to the persons in charge of dealing with it: write to your significant other, your boss, the IRS, and get it all off your chest. Ride yourself into deep shit with that letter. You'll see that the problem will dissolve soon, in some way you hadn't thought likely.

The snag of course is that you can't really be sure whether you have found the right mail box until you try it. And if you haven't things are going to get much worse once your letter gets delivered...

TIME FUCK

A baby girl is mysteriously dropped off at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945. "Jane" grows up lonely and dejected, not knowing who her parents are, until one day in 1963 she is strangely attracted to a drifter. She falls in love with him, but just when things are looking up for Jane a series of disasters strikes: First, she becomes pregnant by the drifter, who then disappears. Second, during the complicated delivery doctors discover that Jane has both sets of sex organs, and to save her life, they most surgically convert "her" to a "him." Finally, a mysterious stranger kidnaps her baby from the delivery room.

Reeling from these disasters, rejected from society, scorned by fate, "he" becomes a drunkard and a drifter. Not only has Jane lost her parents and her lover, but he has lost his only child as well. Years later, in 1970, he stumbles into a lonely bar, called Pop's Place, and spills out his pathetic story to an elderly bartender. The sympathetic bartender offers the drifter the chance to avenge the stranger who left her pregnant and abandoned, on the condition that he join the "time traveller corps." Both of them enter a time machine and the bartender drops the drifter off in 1963. The drifter is strangely attracted to a young orphan girl, who subsequently becomes pregnant.

The bartender then goes forward 9 months, kidnaps the baby girl from the hospital, and drops the baby off in an orphanage back in 1945. Then the bartender drops off the thoroughly confused drifter in 1985, to enlist in the time traveller corps. The drifter eventually gets his life together and becomes respected and elderly member of the time traveller corps, and then disguises himself as a bartender and has his most difficult mission: a date with destiny, meeting a certain drifter at Pop's Place in 1970.

Under the bed

A young girl is left home alone with only her dog to protect her. When night approaches, she locks all the doors and tries to lock all the windows but one won't close.

She decides to leave it unlocked and goes to bed. Her dog takes its customary place under her bed.

In the deep of night she awakens to a dripping sound coming from the bathroom. The girl is too scared to go check so she reaches her hand under the bed. She feels a reassuring lick from her dog and falls back to sleep. She reawakens to the dripping sound, reaches her hand down to the dog where she feels the reassuring lick and falls back to sleep. Once more she awakens to the dripping sound. She reaches her hand down and feels the lick of her dog.

Now curious about the dripping sound, she gets up and slowly walks towards the bathroom, the dripping sound getting louder as she approaches. She reaches the bathroom and turns on the light. She is greeted by a horrific sight; hanging from the shower nozzle is her dog with its throat slit open and its blood dripping into the bathtub.

Something on the bathroom mirror catches her eye she turns around. Written on the bathroom mirror in her dog's blood are the words "WE CAN LICK TOO".

The Jar

On the farthest point of Long Island, the last scrap of land that still counts as New York, there sits a tremendous, abandoned building. Protected by its own isolated location, there is also at any given time two to three Security Guards there. However, if one approaches the cast iron gates on the night of December 4th, even those few security guards refuse to work. The gates are left unlocked, and the wind will be utterly still, a nearly opaque fog filling the peninsula. Go directly to the main doors and step within, there will be a single long hallway , the end occluded by that fog. If you look to either side upon entering, you will see a modern operating room through a glass door. The farther you walk, the older the equipment will get, the more old fashioned the doctors will be dressed. As you can finally see the end of the hallway, the screams of the patients will be nearly deafening. Tthe hall will terminate in an open door leading to a single wooden table, a man in woolen medical clothing, stained brown from blood, will be bent over a corpse. The body's face will be covered, and the man will turn silently, screwing the top onto a cloudy jar of liquid, filled to the brim. He will hand this abnormally heavy object to you, before turning back to his work. Instantly, you will be outside of those cast iron gates. From that point on, disease and injury will never affect you, but if you ever open that cloudy jar and pull out the contents... you will find a heart, pulsing and beating loudly in your palm. A sudden feeling of horror and revulsion will pass through you as realization strikes, that you have just pulled your own living heart from your chest.

Apple offering

Outside of my city, there is an apple orchard, with a small cemetery at the end of it with only about 5 or 10 graves in it. If you visit the cemetery, it is customary to leave a small offering by the largest headstone, even an apple from the orchard will do. If you do not, every night you go to sleep that week, you will see an old man in your dreams.

On the first night, he will appear to be a normal balding old man. He will tip his hat to you and walk away. On the second night, he will have a knife in his right hand. He will tip his hat to you, and walk off once more. The third night, he will lick the knife, and laugh, before disappearing. On the fourth night, he will appear closer to you than before, and lick his knife once more. On the fifth, he will be practically on top of you. On the sixth, he will appear as a skeleton dressed in rotted rags, still holding the knife, still making the licking motion. No one knows how long this continues or how it ends, the victims have all either gone back by then and made an offering, or they have died of heart attacks in their sleep.

The Caves

If you ever visit Slovenia and ask the locals about the Triglav mountain there, some of them will tell how folklore says that inhuman creatures live in caverns there.

Then you may tempted to explore more, and even go to see the mountain itself, looking for any cavern entrances. Perhaps you will find one and enter it.

You might not be prepared for such an expedition, but you will go on nevertheless. The cave may go on for a long while and you may reach what seems to be massive pool of water. Perhaps you will step into, and perhaps you will be swept away by a sudden and unnatural current. You will no doubt panic at this point as you are pulled into subterranean waters.

Your breath will run out and the world will go black. And then you will feel soft, webbed hands gripping your body. Perhaps you will open your eyes in schok and witness a mass of long, white snakelike bodies around you. You might even see their webbed hand and feet, and maybe even their reptilian faces with massive monotonous silver eyes and purple external gills that extent like fans from their necks. You will no doubt wish to escape by now, or perhaps you'll disbelieve this.

Sooner or later your consciousness will once again fade. And then you will wake up, but you are no longer in the nightmarish realm. You will shrug it off as a hallucination, a bout of madness, a dream. But you can't forget it. Ordinary things will seem to take new meanings. Especially symbolic things. Crosses, deer, mountains, seashells are among these things. When you see one you will have to tell yourself to stop staring, stop listening to hidden messages mere images can whisper.

You will notice you can predict some of the coming events. First they will be incomprehensible prophetic dreams. Then you can see flashes of what's to come in broad daylight. Finally you will learn how to control these abilities. You can become rich, powerful and famous this way, and you will know there are people who have used these abilities to do so. But every time you peek to future you will also feel the ever strenghtening call of the caves. You will feel the hands on your body again. The symbols will become more and more of an obsession. Unless you know when to stop, this will consume you and you will do everything you can to return to the cave...I don't know what happens then.

Fear

Ever wonder how some people you meet seem to have no fear whatsoever? You know, those people who go skydiving every weekend, climb thousands of feet up mountains just to snowboard down a side that's 'probably pretty safe, as long as I avoid those trees.' People who marathon-watch the scariest movies you've ever seen, then don't even blink before falling asleep. Well, if you envy them, then there's a way to conquer your own fear. It's just not pretty.

Get on any passenger bus that travels a long distance; Greyhound is usually a good pick. Anything that's on the road for longer than 24 hours. Get a window seat facing west, then stare at the sun, waiting until sunset. Just before the sun touches the horizon, close your eyes. Hard. Do not turn away, don't look at anything else. Cover your ears if you have to.

After a while, you'll notice that the bus has stopped moving. That's the signal that you can open your eyes. When you do, you'll see a gas station, illuminated only by a few flickering flourescent lights. There will be no sun, no moon, no stars in the sky. The convenience store will have its windows boarded up, but the sign will say 'Open.'

If you feel you can't go through with it, get back on the bus, return to your seat, and fall asleep. You'll wake up at sunrise the next day, well on your way to wherever the bus was going.

If you enter the store, the door will slam shut behind you. You will spend an unknown amount of time there, living out your worst nightmares made real. If you survive the ordeal without going mad, you will awake back on the bus, as it reaches its destination. Nothing will ever scare you again.

Some say that after this ordeal, anything else simply pales in comparison. Others say that all that room contains, is all the fear you will ever feel in your entire life, and exposing yourself to it all at once keeps you from feeling any more.

All I know is that if you try to repeat this feat, the sign on the door will say 'Closed.'

Breathless

In Gjoberdik, a small fisherman's village in the country of Bulgaria, on the dawn of January the first everyone closes their curtains and hold their breath for half a minute. Hours after the craze of midnight's celebrations, children look questioning at their worried parents, but can not help to shiver in the embrace of their shaking parents.

One can hear the sound of bells being struck exactly 25 times last year, in this short timespan. The nearest church however, is over 32 miles away. You will find no one out on the streets in these faithful 30 seconds, and even the birds will stop whistling.

Some have gone out of their houses, roaring boldly in disbelief of this century old tradition. On the first sunset of this year, two people gambled their fate in the very first rays of sunlight.

The next dawn, the bells will be struck 27 times.

A gallery showing

If you go into this one tiny, dingy one-story bar in Paris, and the right bartender is behind the counter that night, you might be able to see a very exclusive gallery show of the lost works of one Henri Beauchamp. But, to get in, you have to prove you're a devotee of the artist to get in.

You'll be asked, in clear and perfect English, "What would like to partake of this glorious night?". Answer absinthe, no matter what. Any other drink, from whiskey to water, will kill you as you sleep.

The next question will regard the type, and you MUST answer one of two things: "The stuff that Man himself could not bear to take," or, "The good stuff. The best stuff." If you ask for any other absinthe, in any other way, you will be plagued by nightmares for 13 days. Each night's dream will be more horrible than the last, until, upon the thirteenth dream, your nightmare will follow you, every moment of your waking and sleeping life. Don't try and cheat the barkeep: the door locked behind you. You have to drink what he gives you, doom or not. That such a powerful man granted you audience should be enough. Besides, I've heard that the dying complimented his drinks in their death throes.

If you make it that far before sealing your fate, the bartender will say, "Be sure you handle this with care; this is the finest I have." From here, you may do one of two things: Say, word for word, "I overestimated my fortitude, and I bid you good eve.". If the barkeep nods, you may leave the door you entered, unharmed and with nothing gained and nothing lost (except the time spent inside).

Or you can go on. You will be given a glass with a seven-sided rim, with each side twisting ever so delicately around the basin until forming a sleek and simple handle. You will also receive a very, very, very special absinthe spoon, in the shape of a key; the holes at the key's top serve as the draining point for the alcohol to pour over the sugar cube. And, of course, an unmarked bottle, stripped long ago of its label, scraps of paper sticking to its sides, covered in the rot of the decades past.

The spoon is completely flat, but has two distinct sides: one with a groove along the shaft of the key, and one without. Turn the shaft down, so its groove will be face down. If you attempt this face up, your absinthe will taste foul, your nose will burn, and your eyes will shrivel in their sockets with unspeakable horrors not of this world. Now, if your spoon is the right way up, begin preparing the absinthe as one would (put the sugar on the spoon, and pour the alcohol over so it gains its color and "special qualities").

Say "cheers" to your friend, the barkeep, and bottoms up. If you don't, the absinthe will burn every innard it touches with the power and pain of sulfuric acid.

If you've done it right, the already dim lights will go off, and darkness will consume the bar. Don't be afraid; the darkness is the cue that you've been approved for the exhibit. Wait out the darkness, and keep silent as the dead, lest the bartender decide to make you so.

Eventually (not too long, two to three minutes), a green floodlight will shine brightly on a door on the far wall of the bar. The bar will be bathed in green, and not just from the floodlight. Little luminescent spheres will gently drift through the room, and the barkeep will no longer be there... nor any other unassuming patron inside before. There's no danger by this point... consider it a safe point. If you didn't finish the absinthe, you don't have to, but you might need the alcohol. Either way, take the spoon and put it in the keyhole of the green-lit portal's doorknob. It will fit perfectly, and reach the end of the keyhole with a resounding click.

Inside is a small elevator, with the most beautiful woman any mortal eyes can imagine, bathed in the green glow in just such an angle that the light refracts beyond her into the shape of wings.

The Green Fairy herself will ask you, "Going up?”, and considering all the trouble you went through, it would only make sense to say yes.

Now, you have one more hurdle to clear. She will ask you, as you cross the line from the bar to the compartment, "How would you compare Beauchamp's surrealism to that of, say, Rene Magritte?" For your reply, you must say, "I've come to see more than art tonight."

If you don't, the green floodlight will blow out, the doors will slam shut, and the elevator will plummet through a seemingly infinite blackness before a rea light grows brighter as the elevator nears the very depths of Hell. Now, if your elevator begins to go up, the green light will also fade, but in its place will be the cool glow of the moon. But, before you even recognize it, the elevator will reach the top of its... well, let's call it a shaft to not get too intricate.

Now, I'm not as sure about this as the rest, but I've heard that, if the Green Fairy kisses you on the cheek as she leaves the elevator, you will always be blessed with a creative inspiration: a permanent, ever-changing muse. You can't ask her, you can't kiss her; she has to do it of her own volition. If not... well, nothing, but no reason to do it anyway and anger the woman who is responsible for keeping the Beauchamp paintings safe for so many years.

You will enter, from the elevator, a turn-of-the-century parlor, with a large poster of Henri Beauchamp on the left side of the opposite wall; on the right is a door.

Taking the time to read the poster is a fairly good idea, as it explains the very significance of Mr. Beauchamp. You see, he was a struggling surrealist in the 1920s, always making art to try to be free of all premeditation, and managed to do so. You see, after one night in a tiny, dingy one-story bar in Paris, he began to paint... patterns. First it was geometric patterns. Then complete fractals. Then images that would be in the newspaper the next day. Then next week. Then from fifty years ago. 100 in the future, 200 in the past...

Then, on his last night of life, he kidnapped three young girls from their homes at night, murdered them, and painted his finest masterpieces in reds and yellows with the blood and bile of virgins.

He committed suicide immediately after painting exactly 13 of these.

These are behind the door.

The first six, from the left, show, from left to right: the genesis of the universe, the only true visage of God as viewable to the eyes of man, the true image of Jesus Christ, the sprawling clouds of Heaven, every Pope from the first to faces not yet recognizable, and a portrait of Jesus' appearance in his Second Coming.

The other six, on the right, show, from right to left: the cataclysmic of the universe, the only true visage of Satan as viewable to the eyes of man, the true image of Judas, the sprawling flames of Hell, every human-embodied demon from the first to faces not yet recognizable, and a portrait of the Antichrist in his Second Coming.

Now, six and six makes twelve. But what of the thirteenth?

This thirteenth painting is turned around on its wall pin, the image facing the wall. The space around it is roped up at a very wide diameter, and under the flipped image is a sign, in three languages. The top is in the scriptures of the seraphim, the bottom in the runes of the highest demonic orders, and in the middle, in Roman letters.

DO

NOT

TOUCH

Now, like the kiss, I can't say this part with as much certainty, but all the same... I heard that, somehow, as he died, Beauchamp flayed his skin, his organs, his very soul, into some sort of collage. How he took his dead body and created such a horrific masterpiece, I could never say, nor would I ever dare to.

So... if you make it, maybe you can flip the canvas over and tell me sometime? You can tell me about it over a drink.

Thank god for apples

Have you ever heard the expression "an apple a day keeps the Doctor away?" Most assume, with no reason to think otherwise, that it is simply an easy-to-remember rhyme that stresses the importance of eating healthily to young children. But the saying did not originate as a harmless reminder. It was born in a frontier town in the early years of the gold rush, where food was scarce and money even scarcer. One August, when a bad drought had struck the region, a series of bloody killings swept through the town. Every night, a single house would be broken into, and anyone who saw the invader would be swiftly, brutally slain. Nothing was ever stolen, save for a few scraps of food. After two weeks of this, the local grocer set out a few apples and a glass of milk in the town square overnight. He then hid in the tower of the church, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone who came by. Fighting fatigue, the grocer waited for any sign of life below. Just after midnight, he was rewarded by a chilling sight; a man, carrying a black bag stuffed with dully shining metal tools and covered from head to foot in cloth bandages, staggered into view. He paused at the sight of the apples and milk, then whipped his head around, as if looking for the one who dared to patronize him. Seized with fear, the grocer ducked out of sight, staying hidden 'til sunrise. The strange man had only taken one of the apples, and didn't even touch the glass of milk. No houses were broken into, and no one was killed. For decades, the town continued to place out an apple or two every night, even long after a single apple stopped disappearing.

Numberless Room

A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed. The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to. This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" The man told her that he had and she said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red."

What a shitty deal

Open your closet, don't turn on the light. Make sure you have one match with you. Step inside and close the door. If the lights are on outside of the closet this will not work. Nor will it work if it is daylight. The only room you need is enough for slight mobility.

Stand in the darkness for about two minutes, since that's all that's needed. Now, take the match and hold it in front of you and say, "Show me the light or leave me in darkness." If you begin hearing whispers light the match immediately. If you don't hear anything, and the match doesn't ignite on it's own then don't turn around. If you light the match too late or not at all after hearing whispers, something will grab you from behind and pull you into what seems like a forever fall into darkness.

If you do manage to light the match in time and nothing happens after, open the door slowly and get out, then close the door but do NOT look inside. From then on, never look inside your closet without the light on at all. Some say if you leave your closet open during the night you can see the demon watching you with two red eyes that glow like matches.

Auditory Heroes

If you ever are in an area of absolute quiet, still your breathing and move not a muscle. After a few seconds, you will notice that the silence has a sort of "sound" of its own, a kind of empty ringing tone. This is nothing unique, everyone will hear this, given the proper setting. An informed person will tell you that your brain is trying to interpret the lack of stimuli to your hearing and so creates a bit of a filler sound. This ringing sound actually serves a more arcane purpose, covering up a noise we are not meant to hear. This noise is not impossible to hear, and if you are persistent you can effectively "break" the cover-up sound. The next time you are silent and hear the ringing, shout at the top of your lungs for about half a minute, then be abruptly silent. It will be different for everyone. Some will hear nothing different for dozens of tries. Others might pick up soft murmuring. A special few auditory heroes might clearly make it out on the first attempt. What you will hear is a voice that relays an account of events about to happen in the immediate future. It's like a sportscaster relaying the events occurring 10 seconds into the future. As time goes on, you will be able to make out this voice under increasingly noisy circumstances, to the point that it can be heard at any time by just concentrating. Such an ability would doubtlessly be invaluable, no? You will be able react to any immediate danger, relate to people around you with greater ease. No one would ever surprise you. Now, of course you are wondering what sort of horrible catch this ability entails. Perhaps the tone of the voice is so horrible that it will drive you mad, or maybe the voice will only predict your death over and over again. Of course this isn't the case, though, its a normal voice, your ears receive it no matter what, it's simply a matter of noticing. But there is a danger. For you see, where there is a voice, there is a body. And just like you will notice new sounds, so shall you notice new sights. More importantly, you will be noticed.

Bums

Somewhere in NYC there is an old homeless man missing both his legs from the knees down, whose spot along the streets is the corner of Lexington and East 21st, near Granmercy Park. Approach him after nightfall, give him some change (NO pennies, NO dimes) and ask him, "What did you see on the other side?" He will then tell you all about his travels to other realms and times, where he lost his legs, how he lost his money. It is up to you whether to believe him or not, but as you listen you'll find yourself being drawn in with every story. You must stay alert, or the old man will notice your inattentiveness, and with a scowl he will stop imparting his wisdom; he will chase you as fast as he can, tottering on his stubs. The other reason why you must stay alert is to check the time. Before midnight you must interrupt him (do NOT let him finish whatever story he's telling you at the moment) and say "I've heard enough, old man. Good day and good luck", then walk away. Make at least two left-hand turns around the block before going about your business. You must do this, because anyone who has stayed to listen past midnight is never seen again, at least not in this particular plane of existence

Vials of Death

You come into possession of an old box. Inside are several glass vials filled with dirt, dust and tiny bits of gravel or cement. The vials are labeled with places and dates such as "Port Chicago 7/17/44", "Halifax 7/6/17" and "Guernica 7/17/36". A trip to the library confirms that all are dates of massive loss of life in explosions. A few days later a package arrives with no return address.

Inside is an empty vial labeled with your home town and next week's date.

The Statue

A few years ago, a mother and father decided they needed a break, so they wanted to head out for a night on the town. They called their most trusted babysitter. When the babysitter arrived, the two children were already fast asleep in bed. So the babysitter just got to sit around and make sure everything was okay with the children. Later that night, the babysitter got bored and went to watch TV, but she couldn't watch it downstairs because they did not have cable downstairs (the parents didn't want children watching too much garbage). So, she called them and asked them if she could watch cable in the parent's room. Of course, the parents said it was ok, but the babysitter had one final request... she asked if she could cover up the angel statue outside the bedroom window with a blanket or cloth, at the very least close the blinds, because it made her nervous. The phone line was silent for a moment, and the father who was talking to the babysitter at the time said, "Take the children and get out of the house... we will call the police. We do not have an angel statue."

The police found all three of the house occupants dead within three minutes of the call. No angel staue was ever found.

The Fresh Prince

Somewhere in West Philidelphia, you will find an old basketball court with a single ball lying in the middle. Pick it up and start shooting hoops. After a while, a small group of hooligans will approach you and challenge you to a fight, which you must accept. After the fight, you must go home and relay the events to your mother. She will then inform you that you have an aunt and uncle living in one of the districts of Los Angeles, and out of fear, she will send you to live there for an indefinite period of time. With your bags packed, go to the street corner, and whistle for a cab. The cab that will pull up will bear the word FRESH on the lisence plate, and upon closer inspection, novelty fuzzy dice will hang in the mirror. Although you will think that cabs like these are rare, don't say anything about it. At this point you MUST point out in front of the car and say 'Yo homes to Bel Air'. You will stop in front of a mansion, and it will be somewhere between 7 and 8 o'clock, even though it will feel like you've been traveling mere seconds. Get your luggage out and say 'Yo holmes, smell ya later!', but do NOT turn back to face the cabby. Walk up to the door, look over your shoulder once, and then knock on the door three times. If you follow these intructions, your life will get flip-turned upside-down.

Moonlight

In many stores and establishments that provide videos of a less than appropriate manner, there is a business card.

Some stores keep it well hidden, locked in a safe, and will deny it's existence. Others will show you if you ask for it by name. None will have it displayed in the open.

On this card is a name; Moonlight Films, and a contact number. It's always a local number.

Go to any payphone in any city and dial the number. The answer will be prompt but all you will hear is silence. Wait for thirty seconds. Then you will be served.

A dry, monotone male voice will ask you one question; "Is the road from life to death dark?"

If you answer with anything but the correct reply, he will hang up on you. If you fail the first time, I'd suggest not trying again.

The correct response is "It is moonlit."

If his question is answered properly, the man will say one address in your city and then hang up.

Go to this address and you will find that it is a small, dingy apartment. The carpet will be dirty, the wallpaper flaking and wrinkled, the windows cracked. It will smell of tobacco smoke and decay. On the stained old coffee table there will be a paper bag. On this bag your full name will be printed in red sharpie. Open the bag and you will find an unlabeled video tape. Take it and place exactly $10.99 in the bag then leave. You can watch the tape if you like, but you don't have to. I warn you, it's not pleasant. You will see a room or chamber papered in dessicated skin, the furniture will be crafted from flesh and bone. But all of it will be alive. The tape will last approximately 32 minutes and will depict the murder of a person and the subsequent crafting of their body into another animated furnishing.

You have rented the tape for one week. You must return it to the apartment by sliding it through the mail slot when the time is up. After that, never return to the apartment, never return to the store you recieved the contact number from, and DEFINITELY don't call the number ever again.

I'd also suggest you not keep the tape more than a week. The owners will not be satisfied with a mere late fee, and a good home can never have enough accessories.

Pictures of the Past

Many people keep old photographs in places that seem strange to the average person. In closets, pantries, places like that. My own grandmother kept old photos of friends and neighbors in her linen closet. Either way, some of these photos get left behind from time to time. Owners of homes die, people move on, and the photos stay there. Some photos are of times, places, things that matter. Other photos are random images of times that were good. Some are of times that are bad. But at least one of the pictures is, without fail, a dead person. My grandmother had a picture of herself, on the bed she died in, looking aged beyond belief. In my own home, I found a picture of the previous owner with a knife in his hand. The real estate agent who sold the place to me told me that the man who owned the house was killed by his wife.

Every house has pictures like this. Just hope you don't stumble across your own.

Death Cult

Occasionally, convicted murderers come forward with a chilling tale. They claim that exactly one week after they commit a murder, they awaken in the middle of the night and, if they are alone, they are approached by an old man in a dark black cloak. He claims to be a member of an age old cult that feasts on the spiritual energies released from violence and death. He invariably extends an invitation to the cult, and, should murderer accept, he is christened a member of the organization and given a victim to kill. Murderers who accept but are imprisoned at the time are quietly smuggled through the system by corrupted officials that are members of the sinister plot as well. Any members who fail to cover their tracks and arrested for the murders they commit are found brutally murdered in their cells.

Over 6,000 murders go unsolved every year in the U.S. alone.

Secret Room

Okay I haven't posted this story because even though things worked out okay I was terrified and thinking about how she looked and how I felt makes me feel the same way when I remember it.

I lived in the second oldest house in my area near Waco, Texas, from when I was about 11 until I was 18. I don't know the significance of this really but I feel it’s the only possible explanation for any supernatural presence. I'm not sure when the house was originally built but the rest of the houses around mine were built in the 40s and 50s so I supposed it’s older than that.

The house seemed normal when we first moved in. Only two families had lived there over the years so it wasn't like there was a high turnover rate. In fact no one really noticed or mentioned anything supernatural with the house.

However, there was a "secret room." This room was actually a selling point for my parents to help us deal with moving. Even though my dad was in the military we had lived at our past house for quote awhile and didn't want to move. So of course when my parents said there was a secret passage connecting one of the possible bedrooms with a secret room we became excited about the new house. My sister and I fought for it but I won because the other bedroom already had flower wallpaper up. When I first saw my room I went straight to the closet to see the "Secret door."

The secret door wasn't really secret, it was right in the back of the closet and plain to see. However it was a lot smaller than any normal door. Even when I was only 11 or 12 I had to squat down to get in. It looked like it was made for a child to use.

Another interesting thing was that the door handle was not really built into the door, it was just a handle added as an afterthought. This made me think it was originally just some sort of attic or crawl space door and not meant for a room. The door was lockable by key from my side of the door, the other side had no handle or keyhole. When you open the door there’s a very small hallway which is the same height as the door and not really fit for an adult, but it’s just a few feet long and then you get into the room.

The room was just an empty room added above the garage of the house. There was no way out except for the "secret passageway" to my closet. There were no windows, one light with a string used to turn it on hanging from the ceiling, and the room was completely white with seemingly new wallpaper. There was no furniture or anything left in the room from the previous owners, in fact I don't think the previous owners used it at all. I believe it was sealed before or soon after they moved in and wasn't touched since then, since it was pretty dusty, but who knows. The lock did seem very old and had a hard time moving as if it was rusted or the wood was warped or something.

Now my parents thought the room could be me and my sister's own little toy room or whatever when they first saw it, but after moving in they had second thoughts. I'm not sure what it was but they said it was because they wouldn't be able to hear us if we got hurt in that room since it was so detached from the rest of the house. Of course since we wanted our own secret room so badly they gave in, but said that we had to tell them when we were playing in there and we had to keep the door to my room, my closet, and the secret room open at all times when we were there. So we went on and like I said earlier nothing much really supernatural happened in the rest of the house, and not even too much in the "secret room," at least not to me.

My sister began having an imaginary friend. Whenever I wasn't in there I could hear her talking and whispering to someone. I noticed that although at first she used to have fun in there that as time went on she kind of seemed sadder when she was in there. However up until now this could all be coincidence so I didn't give it much thought.

The only weird things that happened with me was at night I thought I could hear some sort of scratching on the walls behind my room, except it wasn't really with fingernails it was softer sounding. It wasn't on the door, but coming from inside the room.

Now I believe that I only heard this at night because it was quiet at night, and the scratching rubbing sound was so soft that you normally couldn't hear it. I really had no idea what it was, I told my dad once and he looked around for some animal but couldn't find any so we just forgot about it and I lived with it. Like I said it was so soft it never really bothered me. It could be some far off tree rubbing against the house for all I knew. This rubbing happened consistently but like I said I never paid it much mind, at least until my sister went into the room one night.

She knew about the rubbing too and never really said anything about it. One night though, probably about a year or so after moving into the house, the rubbing was going on as usual. I was in that limbo before falling to sleep when I thought that someone was in my room and unlocking the closet door. I thought it might have been a dream but I looked around and saw my door and closet door open, so I got up to check it out. I was a little scared but I realized it was probably mom or dad checking out the rubbing sound since I told them it still happened sometimes. I turned the light on in my closet and looked in. I saw a figure sitting in the room facing the wall. Now even when I was a kid, I had been pretty brave. I was still scared since I was pretty young, but I knew that you can't just run or you'll never know. I said "Hello?" and I heard "She wanted me to see" in what sounded like my sister's voice. The light was in the middle of the room, and it was tough taking even those few steps to get to it in the middle of that dark room. But like I said, I couldn't just leave so I just went there and turned it on. When I looked at the figure, it was indeed my sister, sitting and scratching at the wall paper. I touched her and she was crying so I pulled her up and took her out of the room. I'm really glad that I didn't just lock the door and run or else she'd be stuck in there all night (this is one reason why I never run away from anything abnormal). I locked the door, took her to her room and watched her as she went to sleep. I really thought she could've been sleepwalking or something although she never had before, and since it was over I didn't want to wake up my parents. I went back to sleep.

The next day I asked my sister in the morning if she remembered going into the room and she looked freaked out. I told her she was probably just sleep walking but she said that "the girl" asked her to come look at her pictures. She didn't start crying but she was about to because she was so scared. I didn't ask who "the girl" was. I told her it was just a dream and went to prove it. She didn't want to enter the room again so I went in and saw where she was scratching on the wall. Only a little bit was scratched away, so I started peeling some more wallpaper off. Under the wallpaper were different pictures drawn in what looked like crayon. They were typical kid pictures of mainly cats, and houses, however there was one picture that I thought was weird.

It was a little girl, a cat, a mom, and a dad. Now everything looked like a normal kid family portrait, except the dad had no face. It was just a circle. Of course my rational side said she just never finished it. But still the dad picture looked strangely out of place, like the lines were distorted like she had trouble drawing it. Anyway I told my parents and they yelled at me for pulling back the wallpaper. I didn't want my sister to get in trouble so I didn't say anything about her or what happened last night. My parents said we had to get it fixed now and were mad, and didn't let me play in there again as punishment. The whole thing still seemed normal to me. Kid draws on wall, parents put wall paper up to cover it up. I didn't realize until later that night when the scratching rubbing sound started up, that it sounded like a crayon. I really started thinking that it was "the girl" that my sister talked about was drawing on the wall.

Now after this happened, I started believing that the girl was actually in there. Once I started acknowledging her presence, weirder things began to happen. It happened really slowly. I was about 14 or 15 after the episode with my sister, and the weird things were happening slowly over the course of the next years I lived in the house up until I was 18. The changes were so subtle that I didn’t really notice that they were happening until much later. The drawing sounds increased a little bit and soon were audible even during the day. I also started hearing little pattering of feet. The more I heard these things the more emotional I felt about them. I started feeling angry the more I heard the sounds, especially when I was trying to sleep. However I always managed to control myself and try to think that this girl was obviously sad and just trying to have fun and I calmed myself down. However this was going on so long that I finally asked my sister when I was about 16.

I asked her if she ever heard the sounds. She said that she did, although they were pretty quiet. Now I didn’t think this was so weird since obviously I could hear them too, and I told her how annoying it was. She kind of looked at me as if she was hurt, and said that every time she heard the sounds she felt really sad. She had trouble talking about it, but I told her this is pretty important since it’s going to affect the rest of my years left in the house. She told me that “the girl” was the girl that she used to talk to when she played in the room. She didn’t know her name, but they used to play together. She said she looked just like a little girl about her age so they had fun together. However, as my sister got older, the little girl seemed to get older too, except very unnaturally. It was subtle at first but soon she began hating seeing her. She said she looked as if she “shouldn’t have been alive anymore.” I didn’t really know what this meant. My sister said she wore the same dress the whole time, even when the girl grew out of it. I asked her why she went into the room that one night to find the pictures, and she said she really didn’t want to but the girl made her feel so sad and she’d do anything to help her out. However this still freaked her out and I didn’t ask anymore questions.

Things got worse every night, and I hated hearing that sound. I was so mad that she wouldn’t just shut up so I could sleep. The weird thing was I was scared at the same time, since I knew that whatever it was in there wasn’t actually alive anymore. What also freaked me out was that the sound didn’t annoy my sister, but I guess she had more tolerance than I did.

I asked my parents who used to live here, and they said a family with two sons. Of course this didn’t have anything to do with the room, since they had it locked off the entire time they were there. So I asked if they knew anything about the family before them. They said the original owners were the ones who had the house built and that they didn’t know much about them, except that they had a daughter who died when she was 11. I asked if they knew how she died, but they said it was some sort of accident, so it wasn’t murder or child abuse or anything. I also asked if she died in the secret room, but they said they didn’t think so. I really think that this was the girl in the room, although I have no idea why she inhabited it still.

Once I knew this I sort of had an idea with what I was dealing with. Last year was when things got the worst. I heard almost constant drawing and her jumping around inside the room. The footsteps sounded heavier and were louder. If I ever heard it I’d pound on the door to the room and she’d stop immediately, but I’d hear soft whimpering or crying. She’d also start drawing again later on. Sometimes I’d scream at her to shut up. I really got mad every time it happened since it had been going on for 6 years. However, I knew that I had to do something about this. I was a lurker by this time so I’ve read a lot of ghost story threads, and I remembered how pussy most of the goons were regarding ghosts and never checked anything out. So I knew that I had to at least understand what was going on exactly, and if possible end it. I didn’t really have a plan but I knew I had to see the girl or talk to her or something.

Last year, shortly before I turned 18, my parents went away for the weekend, so I took the key to the secret room from their room (they kept it ever since locking it that day when I took off the wallpaper). I was determined to see her so I stayed up expecting to hear sounds. I couldn’t hear anything so soon I just fell asleep. It was about 1 am when I woke up to a loud bang, like someone jumped or fell. I heard her footsteps afterwards and of course the drawing. The first thing I felt before any fear was pure anger. I hated that she woke me up, even though this was what I wanted. I immediately grabbed the key and went to the door. I was pounding on it as I said “That’s it!” and unlocking the door. The sounds stopped and I heard whimpering. I threw open the door and this was the first time I saw the room in years.

The light coming from my room illuminated a figure in the room, much like when I saw my sister years earlier. This was when I began to feel a wave of different emotions. I was really angry, really scared, yet I also knew that I had to do this and remain calm. I went into the room and stood a few feet away from the figure which was standing in the corner. I turned on the light. What I saw was probably the most horrific sight I could probably have ever even thought of in my entire life. Any horror movie monster had nothing on how unnatural the girl looked.

I finally realized why my sister described her in such a weird way. Her body was taller than she should have been. Her limbs were so lanky and bony and stretched like she kept growing past how tall she should have been. She was wearing a really small dress, and it was really tight on her body. Her face looked as if her head had continued to grow but her face had not. The skin was stretched and the eyes were sunk back into her head yet wide open and her small, childlike teeth were exposed since her lips were stretched back with the rest of her face. Her hair was down to her waist; her face had tears streaming down. I took all of this in in just a moment, and as soon as we met eyes she let out a wail as if she was crying and moaning at the same time. It wasn’t a loud wail like most people describe ghosts, it was pretty soft and it was as if she was in terrible pain, but I couldn’t tell her expression since her face was so unnatural and stretched.

As soon as I heard the wail all the anger in my body was overcome by fear and I ran. I wish I could say I ran for a video camera, but I just ran. I know I’ve been talking about how much I hate when people don’t investigate things but I was so terrified that I ran. Once I got out of my room I ran to my car and drove away and spent the night at a friend’s house. Once I realized what happened I was in a cold shiver and scared out of my mind for the entire night. I was too scared to go back home until my parents came home.

I waited until they came back on Sunday, and then I came over. They asked me why I took the key and left the closet door open and I just told them I wanted to see if I could sell any of my old toys on eBay. I took one last look in the room and locked the door. Ever since then nothing happened. I don’t know why things stopped, but I’m always hoping its not because I “let her out” like in the Ring or something and that she’s really evil. Since nothing has happened since then I do really hope that I helped her out in some way, but in all honesty I don’t care. My parents moved after I went to college, and I have no intention of ever going back. I came up with a theory that the male family member in her life was really mean to her and hated her playing in there, and possibly beat her, while the female family member always felt sad (hence my sister, and the girls willingness to open up to her first). Anyway like I said that’s just all theory but it kind of makes sense. This all happened last year, and the more I think about it the harder it is to remember. Sorry for typing such a long post, I didn't realize I had this much to tell.

Rasta

Alright my yout, mi and dis fine gyal decide we waan fi go park, we went pon swing, pon slide, and even have good time a bounce pon teeter-totter. Buoy, it fun mi tell yuh. Been long since we frolic ina park. We sit dung a ground fi have lunch, afta lunch she waan fi go home, so we went to her house fi watch movie and sinting. Mi tell you, the gyal mus be one freak, cause she jump pon my lap and start suck out mi face. After 5 minute the blood clot phone ring and mi answer. One rated man come yell ina mi ear, man was livid! Him say sumthing like 'YO STAR, A WEH YOU A DO WIT MI PICKEY?' Mi just give one sour look pon my girl face and ask a wuh dis man business? Gyal tell me her dad ded, him ina ground, ded, ded, ded. A WHO DI BUMBACLOT DEH PON MY PHONE?

Sadako

Watching TV was quickly becoming the dullest thign I had done in a while. I wish I was doing what I had been doing a week ago; that was actually fun. This, however, was just shit. It was worse than browsing /b/. Regis Philbin was on my damn TV and it was pissing me off that this was the only channel I had. I figured that this wasn't going to change anytime soon, so I got up to go get me some falafel. As I was rising out of my chair, the TV flickered. I looked at it for a second, shrugged, and continued on my epic quest for falafel.

Flicker.

Now what was this? I moved back and forth to see if perhaps the capacitance of my body had flickered the TV.

Flicker.

My screen was now nothing but static, and a strange, ringing sound was eminating from it. This was entirely typical. My shit TV had finally decided to kick the bucket. I sighed and went to unplug it, when I noticed the screen had suddenly become clear again. But it was not Regis, it was a blank monochrome image of a well.

I thought it was some sort of commercial. It strangely caught my interest, so I sat back down in my chair and stared at the image of the well before me. It seemed so still, but then, I saw a hand come out of the top. Something was climbing out of the well. It raised its head, which was covered in wet, black hair. I couldn't see its face. It was at this time I was thoroughly creeped out.

It pulled itself out of the well and began shambling toward me slowly. It was a girl. She was pale looked waterlogged, like a dead thing that had fallen into a puddle. She was drawing closer. I felt sick now, and I knew it was silly to feel like this over a commercial, but my heart was pounding. All I could see was her black hair covering the entire screen. Then, I screamed. Her hand reached out of my television.

"Wha-, what are you!?" I shrieked. She pulled herself out of my set, raised her head, and gazed at me.

"Sada...ko..." she croaked. Her body fell to my floor in a sickening, wet slap. She was crawling to me now, and I was too petrified to move. I knew I should run, but I didn't. It was entirley too out of this world to do anything but watch.

The dead girl descended on me, hanging over my body with her corpselike gape. She pushed me down; her ice cold hand connected with my arm as she forced herself on top of me. I knew I was going to die. I knew she'd strangle me.

It was then I realized she was naked. Her skin was cloud white, her cold breasts were almost translucent with blueish nipples; I could slightly see her muscles through her skin. Her face was as thin and white as her young body, and her eyes were rolled back into her head, as if she didn't have pupils.

Sadako dropped herself onto me, and I felt a tremendous cold fear that I had never experienced. Water was dripping onto me as she writhed. She hissed and croaked and moaned; her b

PIG DISGUSTING

AMERICAN

I'M A KOREAN 
SON OF A BITCH AMERICAN 
AMERICAN IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A HAMBURGER? 
DO YOU WANT A PIZZA? 
AMERICAN IS PIG DISGUSTING 
GEORGE WALKER BUSH IS A MURDERER 
FUCKING U.S.A

AMERICAN 2.0

I'M A KOREAN
SON OF A BITCH AMERICAN
AMERICAN IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A HAMBURGER?
DO YOU WANT A PIZZA?
AMERICAN IS PIG DISGUSTING
GEORGE WALKER BUSH IS A MURDERER
FUCKING U.S.A

KOREAN

I'M A AMERICAN
SON OF A BITCH KOREAN
KOREAN IS PIG
DO YOU WANT KIMCHEE?
DO YOU WANT STARCRAFT?
KOREAN IS PIG DISGUSTING
KIM JONG-IL IS A MURDERER
FUCKING KOREA

KOREAN 2.0

I'M AN AMERICAN
SON OF A BITCH KOREAN
KOREAN IS PIG
DO YOU WANT RICE?
DO YOU WANT STARCRAFT?
KOREAN IS PIG DISGUSTING
KIM JONG-IL IS A MURDERER
FUCKING KOREA

GERMAN

I'M A ISRAELI
SON OF A BITCH GERMAN
GERMAN IS PIG
DO YOU WANT HOLOCAUST?
DO YOU WANT RACIAL PURITY?
GERMAN IS PIG DISGUSTING
ADOLF HITLER IS A MURDERER
FUCKING GERMANY

JEWS

I'M HITLER
SON OF A BITCH CHURCHILL
STALIN IS PIG
DO YOU WANT TOTAL WAR?
DO YOU WANT TOTAL VICTORY?
JEWS IS PIG DISGUSTING
ROOSEVELT IS A MURDERER
FUCKING ALLIES

WHITEY

I'M A NIGGER
SON OF A BITCH WHITEY
WHITEY IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A LYNCH?
DO YOU WANT A KLAN RALLY?
WHITEY IS PIG DISGUSTING
HAL TURNER IS A MURDERER
FUCKING HONKEYS

/b/TARD

I'M A 4CHAN
SON OF A BITCH /b/TARD
/b/TARD IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A FULL NIGHT'S SLEEP?
DO YOU WANT A WORK IN THE MORNING?
/b/TARD IS PIG DISGUSTING
SNACKS IS A MURDERER
FUCKING /b/

GRAND MOFF TARKIN

I'M A JEDI
SON OF A BITCH EMPIRE
PALPATINE IS PIG
DO YOU WANT WHITE PIECE ARMOR?
DO YOU WANT PLANET DESTROYING LASER?
GRAND MOFF TARKIN IS PIG DISGUSTING
DARTH VADER IS A NIGGER
FUCKING EMPIRE

ISRAELI

I'M A PALESTINIAN
SON OF A BITCH ISRAELI
ISRAELI IS PIG
DO YOU WANT MONEY?
DO YOU WANT MASS MEDIA?
ISRAELI IS PIG DISGUSTING
DALIA ITZIK IS A MURDERER
FUCKING ISRAEL

WHITE BOSS

I'M A MEXICAN
SON OF A BITCH WHITE MANG
WHITE MANGS ES RICO
DO YOU WANT A MOWED LAWN?
DO YOU WANT A HOLE DIG?
WHITE BOSS ISNT PAYING OVERTIME
INS IS A MURDERER
FUCKING IMIGRATION LAWS

4CHAN

I'M A /b/tard
SON OF A BITCH 4CHAN
DO YOU WANT HENTAI?
DO YOU WANT ANIME?
4CHAN IS PIG DISGUSTING
MOOT IS A MURDER
FUCKING 4CHAN

PROTOSS

I'M A ZERG
SON OF A BITCH PROTOSS
PROTOSS IS PIG
DO YOU WANT CARRIERS?
DO YOU WANT ADITIONAL PYLONS?
PROTOSS IS PIG DISGUSTING
ALDARIS IS A MURDERER
FUCKING PROTOSS

MICROSOFT

I'M A OPEN SOURCE
SON OF A BITCH COMMERCIAL SOFTWARE
MICROSOFT IS PIG
DO YOU WANT SECURITY ISSUES?
DO YOU WANT BLUE SCREEN?
MICROSOFT IS PIG DISGUSTING
BILL GATES IS A MURDERER
FUCKING MICROSOFT

JAPANESE

I'M A CHINESE
SON OF A BITCH JAPANESE
JAPANESE IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A NO APOLOGY?
DO YOU WANT A RAPE ATROCITY?
JAPANESE IS PIG DISGUSTING
ABE IS A MURDERER
FUCKING JAPAN

JAPANESE 2.0

I'M A AMERICAN
SON OF A BITCH JAPANESE
JAPANESE IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A POCKY?
DO YOU WANT A LOLI?
JAPANESE IS PIG DISGUSTING
SHIGERU MIYAMOTO IS A MURDERER
FUCKING JAPAN

FLAC

I'M A MP3
SON OF A BITCH FLAC
FLAC IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A LOSSLESS SOUND?
DO YOU WANT A BIG FILE SIZE?
FLAC IS PIG DISGUSTING
XIPH.ORG IS A MURDERER
FUCKING FLAC

TOM CRUISE

I'M A KATIE HOLMES
SON OF A BITCH TOM CRUISE
TOM CRUISE IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A SCIENTOLOGY?
DO YOU WANT A PLACENTA?
TOM CRUISE IS PIG DISGUSTING
DAYS OF THUNDER IS A MURDERER
FUCKING TOM CRUISE

GAIAFAG

I'M A 4CHAN
SON OF A BITCH GAIAFAG
GAIAFAG IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A FURRY?
DO YOU WANT A CANCER?
GAIAFAG IS PIG DISGUSTING
NEWBIE IS A MURDERER
FUCKING GAIA

PIRACY

I'M A EMPLOYEE OF F.A.C.T
SON OF A BITCH PIRACY
PIRACY IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A FILESHARING?
DO YOU WANT A FREE MOVIES?
PIRACY IS PIG DISGUSTING
BITTORRENT IS A MURDERER
FUCKING PIRACY

TROLL

I'M A GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MENS WEARHOUSE
SON OF A BITCH TROLL
TROLL IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A LONG WINDED TALE OF DEBAUCHERY?
DO YOU WANT A GUARANTEE?
TROLL IS PIG DISGUSTING
ASHLEE SIMPSON IS A MURDERER
FUCKING TROLL

KEYNES

I'M A MONETARIST
SON OF A BITCH KEYNES
KEYNES IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A GROWTH IN MONEY SUPPLY?
DO YOU WANT A INFLATION?
KEYNES IS PIG DISGUSTING
ADAM SMITH IS A MURDERER
FUCKING FISCAL POLICY

MACINTOSH

I'M A PC
SON OF A BITCH MACINTOSH
APPLE IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A AIRPORT?
DO YOU WANT A ADOBE?
MACINTOSH IS PIG DISGUSTING
STEVE JOBS IS A MURDERER
FUCKING APPLE

R@YGOLD

I'M A FBI
SON OF A BITCH R@YGOLD
R@YGOLD IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A CP?
DO YOU WANT A SALTY MILK?
R@YGOLD IS PIG DISGUSTING
RICHARD STEVE GOLDBERG IS A MURDERER
FUCKING R@YGOLD

4CHANNER

I'M A GAIAFAG
SON OF A BITCH 4CHANNER
4CHANNER IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A RACISM?
DO YOU WANT A GORE?
4CHANNER IS PIG DISGUSTING
NEVADA-TAN IS A MURDERER
FUCKING 4CHAN

SOFTWARE ARCHITECTURE

I'M A CODER
SON OF A BITCH SOFTWARE ARCHITECTURE
SOFTWARE ARCHITECTURE IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A SIEMEN'S FOUR VIEWS?
DO YOU WANT A REQUIREMENT?
SOFTWARE ARCHITECTURE IS PIG DISGUSTING
UML IS A MURDERER
FUCKING SOFTWARE ARCHITECTURE

DSL

I'M A 56K MODEM
SON OF A BITCH DSL
DSL IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A FAST SPEED?
DO YOU WANT A FAST UPLOAD?
DSL IS PIG DISGUSTING
BELLSOUTH IS A MURDERER
FUCKING DSL

FURRIES

I'M A ANONYMOUS
SON OF A BITCH FURRIES
FURRIES IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A ANIMAL PENIS?
DO YOU WANT A FURSUIT?
FURRIES IS PIG DISGUSTING
ORCA STACKS IS A MURDERER
FUCKING FURRY

2CHAN

MY NAME IS 2CHAN 
SON OF A BITCH 4CHAN 
4CHAN IS PIG 
DO YOU WANT "MEMES" 
DO YOU WANT "DESU" 
4CHAN IS PIG DISGUSTING
MOOT IS A FUCKING MURDERER
FUCKING 4CHAN

DETERMINANT (Linear Algebra)

MY NAME IS EIGENVECTOR
SON OF A BITCH DETERMINANT
DETERMINANT IS PIG 
DO YOU WANT "MULTILINEARITY" 
DO YOU WANT "SKEW SYMETRIC" 
DETERMINANT IS PIG DISGUSTING
SYMMETRIC GROUP IS A FUCKING MURDERER
FUCKING DETERMINANT

HYBRID AMERICANS

I'M GOLGOLMOIS
SON OF A BITCH HYBRID AMERICAN
HYBRID AMERICAN IS PIG
DO YOU WANT OKINAWAN BASES? 
DO YOU WANT  DEMOCRATIZE IS ONLY GOSPEL THE ANGLO-SAXONS? 
HYBRID AMERICAN IS PIG DISGUSTING
RAMSFELD IS A MURDERER
FUCKING HYBRID AMERICAN

SPARKY4

I'M SPARKY4
SON OF A BITCH AMERIKKKAN
AMERIKKKAN IS PIG
DO YOU WANT A SKIRT? 
DO YOU WANT PANTSU? 
AMERIKKKAN IS PIG DISGUSTING
LEON KAISER IS A MURDERER
FUCKING U.S.S.A

Corea

Corean history

1592 - Yamoto (formerly Jipang or Japon) invades Korea in what will go down in history as the Imjin War. In the six years following the outbreak of the hostilities the Korean army, of which Admiral Yi Sun-sin was arguably its most prominent commander and tactician, skillfully manages to bring the war back to the attacker's home on its own hook. At the daybreak of December 16, 1598, after a two months long siege, the town of Osaka is levelled by an unreported amount of batteries consisting of bombards mounted on cast-iron hwachas, thus marking the end of the conflict and ushering in the cession of southernmost Yamoto to Korea as its first overseas toehold.

1810 - After almost two centuries of weak but persistent border clashes with rogue peasant armies following the rout of Manchuria in 1636, Korea formally occupies Inner Manchuria and annexes it. In order not to upset the brittle policy of appeasement between the two countries, Qing representative Yishan accedes to sign the Treaty of Aigun on May 28, 1811.

1835 - A massive earthquake followed by a tsunami shakes the territory of Sanriku, northern Yamoto, claiming tens of thousands of lives. With its native populace having been sorely tried by a spate of natural disasters spanning two years and months of unrelieved famine, widespread upheaval gives rise to a belligerent lower-class front spearheaded by Oshio Heihachiro, bent on toppling the despotism of the corrupt Tokugawa shoguns. Before long the situation rages out of control, forcing Tokugawa Ienari to beseech the naval intervention of Korean ironclads moored in Shikoku in exchange of permanent military settlements in the northern isles.

1853 - In the light of the abrupt shift of powers in East Asia, Commodore Matthew Perry sails to the Korean peninsula seeking to open viable commercial routes between Americas and the Far East by trying to loosen the two centuries old isolationist policy with Western powers of the Korean Empire. After lengthy talks Perry is the first foreigner to be admitted, as a representative of USA, in the court of emperor Gojong. There, he discusses his proposals in the so-called Convention of Hanseong, arguing the opening of the ports of Pusan and Nampo to unresticted United States trade. Perry departs shortly afterwards mistakenly believing an agreement between the two sides had been reached, unaware that the emperor had in fact stopped short of delivering official endorsement to the treaty as per his advisors' suggestion. A more equitable arrangement would be signed exclusively with France only 10 years later, on heels of the defeat of Admiral Roze.

1897 - The First Russo-Korean breaks out. In the wake of the Boxer Rebellion the Korean army, not regarded by the decadent Qing Dynasty as a foreign invader unlike its Western allies, occupies Outer Manchuria with the aim of flushing out and fight any future potential destabilizing cadre. Taking Korean presence as a hindrance to Russia's own interests on the zone, Tsar Michael II wages war on the Korean Empire but the army stationed there, weakened by previous clashes with Boxers, is unable to stymie the thrust of the Korean Army and is soon overwhelmed. The Treaty of Portsmouth, signed on September 5, 1898, would cede the entirety of Manchuria as well as rioting Sakhalin to Korea.

1900 - Recent Korean victory over the Russian invasor causes Meiji Restoration to come about. Meiji, nominal emperor of Yamoto, acquiesces in allowing Korea to become the sole deputy for both internal and foreign affairs of his nation by signing the Eulsa Treaty, thus turning to all intents and purposes Yamoto into a Korean protectorate. Formal annexation wouldn't occur until 5 years later.

1923 - The Great Kanto Earthquake strikes central Yamoto, causing unprecedented death and destruction. Widespread fires ravage Edo, sprawling beyond control mainly due to obsolete and unmaintained infrastructures as the former imperial family is reported missing.

1925 - For the second time in history the Korean Empire is forced to take up arms against Russia. After six months of unabated border skirmishes the Korean Empire, previously neutral during the Great War, decrees the full mobilization of its army against breakaway White Russian rebels helmed by Roman Ungern von Sternberg, spread thin at the outskirts of the former Russian Empire. The subsequent victory over them would secure Korean rule over Yakutia and Kamchatka. Civil unrest erupts across the Bering Strait as Russian Alaska is being shut out of mainland Russia. USA occupies the territory as a precautionary measure.

1935 - Maritime Provinces become part of the Korean Empire thanks to a landslide victory of 91% favorable votes in the popular plebiscite. Alaska is officially declared an organized territory of USA as of May 11.

1942 - Still suffering from the combined effects of dust bowl storms and the ensuing worldwide stock market crash and staggering unemployment rate upsurge, depression-stricken USA sees no other choice to overcome the crisis but to devise a surprise strike on the Korean Empire, the "Thoroughfare of East Asia", in hopes it would cut its hegemony down to size as part of a desperate bid to forcibly open the country to one-sided economic agreements with North America. President Charles Lindbergh sanctions the preemptive attack on the Korean fleet docked at Guam on December 5, which would be carried out just two days later. World War Two begins.

Investment Banker

Subject: LIVING LIKE A KING
Date: Tue, 15 May 2001 17:26:21 -0700

So I've been in Korea for about a week and a half now and what can I say, LIFE IS GOOD....I've got a spanking brand new 2000 sq. foot 3 bedroom apt. with a 200 sq. foot terrace running the entire length of my apartment with a view overlooking Korea's main river and nightline......Why do I need 3 bedrooms? Good question,...the main bedroom is for my queen size bed,...where CHUNG is going to f@*k every hot chick in Korea over the next 2 years (5 down, 1,000,000,000 left to go).... the second bedroom is for my harem of chickies, and the third bedroom is for all of you f@*kers when you come out to visit my ass in Korea. I go out to Korea's finest clubs, bars and lounges pretty much every other night on the weekdays and everyday on the weekends to (I think in about 2 months, after I learn a little bit of the buyside business I'll probably go out every night on the weekdays).

I know I was a stud in NYC but I pretty much get about, on average, 5-8 phone numbers a night and at least 3 hot chicks that say that they want to go home with me every night I go out. I love the buyside,.... I have bankers calling me everyday with opportunties and they pretty much cater to my every whim - you know (golfing events, lavish dinners, a night out clubbing). The guys I work with are also all chilll - I live in the same apt building as my VP and he drives me around in his Porsche (1 of 3 in all of Korea) to work and when we go out. What can I say,.... live is good,... CHUNG is KING of his domain here in Seoul.....

So,.... all of you f*@kers better keep in touch and start making plans to come out and visit my ass ASAP, I'll show you guys an unbelievable time....My contact info is below....Oh, by the way,... someone's gotta start fedexing me boxes of domes,...I brought out about 40 but I think I'll run out of them by Saturday.....

Laters,

CHUNG

Peter Chung
The Carlyle Group

KOREAN TOUGH GUYS

I hate all white people and Americans especially. We Koreans were so happy when our national hero Cho Seung Hui killed all those kojengi yangnom sekis. Dirty white people all need to die. We Koreans draw our power from hating others and racism. That is the Korean way. I look forwrd to the day we can killl more white people on college campuses. This is what a true Korean patriot believes.

All true proud Koreans should go buy some guns and randomly kill non-Koreans. I have orgasms when I kill people who are not Korean! Don't you? It is every Korean's dream before we die to kill as many americans as we can and spread our hatred to unite our superior Han people. We koreans are much smaerter and more superior to whites because we built a turtle ship 400 years ago whereas whites can only create the internet, telephones, computer chips, automobiles, and etc. Unless you believe in hatred of and killing whites and other non Koreans. If not, then you are not a true Korean. A true Korean patriot belives in murder of all non-Koreans!

True Korean patriots like me get up in the morning and the first thing we do is go straight to the computer and spend the next 24 hours on the internet trying to make as many anti-Japanese/anti Chinese posts as possible because we are insecure of our own Korean image. We know that white people think of Chinese and Japanese as respected powerful Asian nations with a remakable culture. However, we absolutely hate the fact that noone knows what Korea is excpet a place inhabited by a bunch of balloon headed, 3 foot wide faced, wife beating dog eaters who do nothing but scream and yell about how great and superior Korea is.

However, at the same time, we Koreans immigrate to other countries like a swarm of cockroaches b/c we know deep down inside our country is a 3rd world shithole of dirty trash strewn rotten cabbage smelling whores who sell their dirty snatch in massage parlors in Los Angeles, NYC, and Sydney. However, we are ashamed of this and embarassed. Thus, to make ourselvees feel better about our selves, we go to Asiafinest and try to make as many hateful comments about other Asian countries and Mexico/USA because we are so jealous of them. We want them to be below Korea's image but unfortunately, that will never happen b/c all intelligent people know we Koreans are barbaric monkeys who have a severe inferiority complex.

That's why I am so pissed off and angry. That's why I want to buy guns and just go ballistic and kill random foreigners. It makes my Korean little boy ego feel better about myself. Also, all of Korean men and kyopo people are just like me. The ones who are not racist and pyscho are traitors and the whites can have them for their own. A true Korean is racist and hatred is the guiding force in life for all true Koreans.

Zerged Cho Seung-Hui

We may seek this Cerebrate, Cho Seung-Hui in horror and try to understand this brutal zerg commander and why he committed this atrocity. But beyond why he carried out this zergling rush, I think the more important issue to ponder is how he was able to commit this act. Terra has bred a culture and a perspective of violence and death, and repeatedly prove that they are a dangerous world to live on. These acts of violence have been occurring increasingly in the Terran Confederacy, and despite that they have suffered through tragedy after tragedy, they time and time again fail to do anything to stop it. Cho Seung-Hui was still carrying the larvae from the purchase of the Hatchery he used in the massacre. The fact stands that there is absolutely nothing keeping zerglings out of the hands of psychologically unstable people in the Terran Confederacy. They as a people must address this social illness, take responsibility for it and implement change so it can't happen again. Until this occurs, I will fail to be concerned with the self-inflicted suffering of a people that are too passive to take control of their own reality and destiny. I feel for the 12 SCVs that died and the Command Center that got destroyed in the hands of their own fatal culture, but thats as far as it goes. While we all turn our focus to this one massacre, we need to remember that this same culture is also responsible for the slaughter of what is estimated as being between 5000 to 10000 Zerg units. I hope that this tragedy in the Terran's homeland can help send the message that something is horribly wrong and that the Terran Confederacy needs to change. We Terrans need to rise up to do something about it, because we all know that our government won't.

Paedophilia

Children Need Sex

Children need sex.jpg

Children need sex. They require release like you do but are denied it with a partner who can teach them and guide them through it lovingly. Many young children masturbate for relief-and what does mom and dad do when they find out? Why, they slap the kids hands and tell them to stop or they will go blind! Once again, this only leads to oppressive, damaging GUILT. By age 11, I was a compulsive masturbator & collected hard-core pornographic magazines like HUSTLER! I was VERY sexual and I was asking for it on a regular basis (and never seemed to get it!) and yet society would have believed I was as innocent as can be. This harmed me. If I had only known a pedophile then, I would have been much happier in my childhood! But then again, if I had decided to have sex with a pedophile adult, they would have been imprisoned and I would have been in therapy for brainwashing to accept my "abuse". But my childhood had a happy ending-fate soon blessed me at 11 and a half with a woman pedophile who sexually educated me! Other kids are more like I was than you maybe would like to admit. Perhaps you were something like this in your own youth and due to guilt you wish not to admit this side of yourself existed. Think back and be honest with yourself-it is ok to be sexual and you are not alone or wrong! Stop feeling guilty about a natural bodily function and do not infect our kids!

Children do many things that are new to them. Sex is one of those things. A child must learn sometime, and "waiting for their wedding" is WAY too late! The sex drive is the most important one in our species besides breathing air and eating! We are made for sex! Children are made to enjoy it too! Repressing these feelings is NOT healthy. It is also unhealthy for kids to deny themselves relief. Sex by itself is NOT damaging to kids. This is a myth designed to attack pedophiles and deny kids their rights. In a misguided effort to "protect" kids, society has actually HARMED them by repressing perfectly natural feelings which DEMAND expression. Without it, healthy development and beliefs about sex are problematic. Kids masturbate and climax, and it does NOT "scar" them for life! By itself (remember-it is the guilt not the sex!) having sex with an adult (or another child) will NOT harm a child! It is a normal bodily function. Kids urinate and defecate as you do-they also experience sexual gratification (usually via masturbation) just as you do. A 10 year old boy may not ejaculate semen, but he CAN climax. A 10 year old girl can and often already does masturbate and she climaxes. Society needs to accept that kids are sexual beings.

Give them that chance. Do not deny them the right of sexual free-expression. Children DO intitiate sexual contact with adults and there is nothing wrong with it. Adults can also intiate. We must teach our kids the importance of their right to own themselves. This means they can REFUSE sex with an adult at any time. It also means they can accept an offer and inititiate one themselves! This is the part that society hypocritically refuses to allow. They say kids own themselves, but when that belief is tested, society applies a double-standard and denies kids a right to do as they wish to themselves. Implied in the belief that kids can say no is the acceptance of them saying yes! You cannot have it both ways. Either they own their bodies or they do not. If they can only say "no" according to you, then they do not own themselves in your eyes! Pedophiles are the opposite of "predators". In fact, they are the ONLY TRUE "child advocates" in this regard on earth, since the take the child's wishes into full account! Pedophiles love children. That is what the word means, (pedo=child phile=lover) it is not a bad word to describe a monster-except in the eyes of the media which distorts and sadly shapes public opinion against child-loving advocates-i.e. pedophiles.

The problem pedophiles have (particularly male ones) is that if ANY adult shows a special excessive interest in kids, that person is immediately suspected of being a pedophile. This leads to pedophiles being separated from their outlets & it harms them. It also leads to kids being taken away from people that truly care about them. It is often the case that people who show unusual interest in kids are pedophiles but is that a bad thing? Pedophiles can be a VERY positive force in the life of a child. Society does not think so and wonders why pedophiles must add the sexual element. They ask why we cannot always be happy just doing things with them that are non-sexual. The reason is that is one very important aspect of life and one that is something we find very pleasurable when it is with the people we like and love. It is no different than you! If I have sex with an 11 year old girl I love and care about, why do you care if she is willing and loves me too? The trouble is, society assumes that she is incapable of loving, or understanding it. She IS capable-she loves her parents, which is one kind of love. I am only showing her another kind that she is gladly and voluntarily experiencing with me. You must accept that she IS capable of wanting sex and relief, and feeling LOVE for me-her pedophile. You can bet that if I were in such a situation, I would love her-not just use her. It is not merely sexual. I prefer young girls. I do not cruise the streets looking for them to molest! If it happens it does and that is fine.

Pedophiles do not talk down to kids & treat them with respect and listen to them. This is not the case with an average adult, and kids see right through it. Kids like pedophiles very much, whom they do not see as a heavy-handed authority figure, but rather, as a sort of "older" PEER. That is what confuses the general public about the motivations and methods of pedophiles. Society assumes the pedophile views the child as an object, and uses his/her superior smarts/abilities/experience to control the child to extract sex. But pedophiles do not do this and never advocate such tactics! It goes against their very nature to do that! The reason society falls for this assumption is it is "transferring" what IT would do if in that situation. Since "regular" adults do not really respect or understand children, they assume the same mindset applies to pedophiles-and it does not! A "regular" adult does not understand pedophilia or pedophiles, & so they assume the pedophile is approaching the situation as a "regular" adult with a perverted streak in them-bent on taking advantage of children-since that is what the average "regular" adult could see himself/herself doing if they were sex maniacs looking for an easy outlet to prey on. But pedophiles are not this way-we are not predators looking for targets! Being a pedophile is a way of life-not a sick perversion.

Help Your Child Climax

You should help your child climax and experience the joys and sensation and relief of orgasm. This is very important. You should teach them to help you climax and do the same for them. Explain orgasm to them. Tell them how good it feels to boys and girls to obtain release, that orgasm is a pleasurable feeling in their bodies that they need to understand & experience & that they need to know how to bring it about with a partner. If they already masturbate, show them how to complete it to climax if they have not discovered it yet. If they do not really know how to masturbate, show them how and demonstrate yourself doing it. Tell them it's normal and healthy and they should do it to relieve sexual tension. A child is not stupid-but often ignorant due to lack of information. Inform them! A climax can be scary to a child, it is a powerful experience they may not have had yet. You must guide them & explain that it won't hurt them, & is even good for them!

I've been living with a secret

For 10 years now I've been living with a secret (or more accurately, a lie) and I've decided this situation cannot continue. I am forced to deny an integral part of myself to friends and family, if it was widely known, I would be unemployable, most women would turn away in disgust at the thought of romance, I would be unable to see many of my relatives and also be perpetually vulnerable to physical assault. I am a girl-lover - what you would call a pedophile. I am sexually attracted to girls from 5 years old (occasionally as young as 3), with the ages of about 8-9 being preferred. For what it's worth, I am attracted to adult women also. I refuse to cope with the secrets and lies that this aspect of my life requires; together with a desire to do some good for those in my situation I have made a plan for ACTION - I have identified a list of people who represent the clearest danger to child-lovers this nation; they are members of the judiciary, individual "vigilantes", particular journalists et cetera. All of the names on this list have caused terrible harm to "my people". They are the targets, I have weapons and the skill and the will to use them. I go forward with this work in the hope that others will follow - may our enemies soon know fear to moderate their hate, I do not hope to survive long once embarking on this path but do not pity me - making this decision has given me hope and purpose that a hidden life would never have provided. Farewell, and when you learn of my fate do not mourn me but rather celebrate what I am about to do.

John McCain wants your CP

Social networking sites and message boards face the same regulatory burden as internet service providers (ISPs) in a new bill proposed by ex-US presidential candidate John McCain. McCain wants sites to report all child pornography to authorities.

Currently only ISPs have a duty to report suspected child pornography-related activity to the US National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. McCain's bill, though, extends that duty to social networking sites, and to all sites that carry message boards.

McCain's proposed law is mainly aimed at sex offenders, but contains the demands on social networking sites within it. It says that site operators who know of any activity relating to child pornography must "make a report of such facts or circumstances to the CyberTipline of the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children."

McCain's proposed law says that it applies to any "social networking site, chat room, message board, or any other similar service using the internet."

The proposed law has been read twice by the Senate and must now be referred to a committee for discussion. It says that convicted sex offenders in the US will have to register their online identities with the authorities if new laws being proposed are passed.

If the bill became law it would create a significant extra regulatory burden on many sites, since a wide variety and large number of sites host message boards. The law would likely carry heavy penalties for site operators who did not notify authorities when offending material was posted

Kill Pedophobes

To all pedophiles: Annoyed/depressed about being pedsecuted?, here's something to think about; most of the people in the world, i.e. your family, the guy walking down the street, your workmates HATE what you are. They'd happily kill a pedophile if they thought they could get away with it, maybe torture too. Bearing this in mind, do they deserve any better than you? - they have declared themselves by default as your adversaries - why not take the fight to them?
Here is a useful strategy - identify those around you who the above description fits - the ones who, on hearing of a child porn possessor, say stuff like "I hope he gets the broom-handle and razor treatment in jail". THEY ARE YOUR ENEMIES. Destroy them. Not all at once but in little ways, spread rumours, piss in their coffee, sugar their gas -- ANYTHING you can GET AWAY WITH. fight the antis

Lolistory

When I was sixteen, I raped my next door neighbor kid. She was a lot younger than me, ten or eleven probably. Cude kid. Skinny as anything, long brown hair, always bouncing around. When we were both younger, we'd play ghost in the graveyard, capture the flag, and hide and seek with the other neighborhood kids. In our version of the games, if you got put in jail, you got tied up with some old clothesline and "tortured" (tickled, lol)--we had enough people that it worked out, plus it was fun tying people up. At least that was the part me and my sister liked. But I found out that Jessi (the neighbor girl) liked being tied up. Whatever, it was a game, she was a kid, and no one thought much of it.
Fast forward five years. I'm in high school, my sister is in eight grade, and our neighbor Jessi is in fifth grade. Sis and Jess went to the same school.
Jess came home with sis (her name is Elizabeth, but I don't want this to get confusing) one day after school. Sis had promised her she'd let her go swimming in our pool. I guess they went swimming, because later I found Jessi, soaking wet in her swimsuit, in myh room. "Sorry!" she said. "Lizzie said your goggles were in here, and the water was hurting my eyes."
Fuck, she was cute. Dripping wet, pink suit clinging to her, cute little ass, tiny barely-there tits...GOD. I got hard just looking at her stand there.
"Uh...yeah. My goggles are actually over here..." I went out to the hallway and hunted them out of the hall closet. My eyes hit on mom's clothesline, though, and my mind went downthe gutter fast.
"Uh, Jessi. Do you want to play a game?"
she bit her lip, cutest thing ever. Her swimsuit strap was starting to slip down off her shoulder, and I started to pray that she wouldn't notice. "like what kind of game?"
"Like...hide and seek," I said.
She grinned. "Okay, like with everyone How come you don't play with us anymore?" I guess the neighborhood games were still going on and she still joined in... interesting.
"I was actually thinking, like...just youand me."
"Okay, sure." She grinned at me and gave me a wet, drippy hug. I felt her cold, wet stomach press against my hard cock and nearly came right then.
"I'll count, okay? And if I find you..."
"You tie me up?" She giggled.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. My shorts were tenting out like the fucking circus. "Yeah. Tie you up," I said.
"Okay!" I found her and covered her eyes with a bandana. She laughed and let me guide her to my room. I laid her down on the bed andcarefully began tying her up--I started by just wrapping her up, mummy-style, but changed my mind partway though. Instead, I cut two pices of clotheline off, snaked them under the bed, and tied each end up one of her limbs--effectively tying her down to the mattress, spread eagle. this would have been way easier with a 4 post bed, but I had a twin, and it wroked okay for an eleven year old.
"Are you ready?" I asked her. "For what?" she giggled.
"For the TORTURE!" I yelled, and started tickling her. God, she squirmed. I sat on her chest and tickled her on and on as she bucked and squealed below me. I stopped every couple minutes to let her catch her breath.
God, it was hot. I tracde her face with my finger and dipped my finger into yher mouth. she started suckling on it, which was suddenly the hottest thing i could imagine anyone ever doing--this tied down, swimsuit-wearing little girl, sucking hungrily on my finger.I ran my other hand down her body, lightly tickling her through the still-damp swimsuit. She murmured around my finger and sucked harder. I ran my finger quickly, lightly, across her crotch, and she bit down on my finger, arching her back, then went back to sucking.
I smiled. "nice girl," I teased quietly, running my hand across her tiny breasts, still flicking and stroking, a weak attempt at masking what I was doing by still pretending to "tickle" her. Whether she believed it or realised what was actually on my mind didn't really matter.
I lightly traced circles around her breasts, circling closer and closer to her tiny erect nipples, and she began to squirm again, this time straining to meet my touch instead of desperately pulling away.
I kept circling her nipples, moving closer....closer....closer...and then I stopped, hovering just above them.
She strained even more, pushing upwards, trying to feel my fingers on her nipples, the one placed I had avoided touching her. but she was stll blinfolded and couldn't tell that she'd never quiet arch her back *that* far.
Damn, a horny ten year old girl. Who would have imagined?
I pulled my finger from her mouth, anf used both of my hands to caregully, firmly push her back down to the bed. she whimpered.
"is something wrong jessi? do you want me to untie you?"
"No!" her body tensed, then relaxed completely. "why did you stop," she whined a little. I forced surprise into my voice. "Did you like that?"
"...ye...yeah," she said shakily. "Please...don't stop?
"I don't know," I said, drawing it out. "I don't know if it's really okay for me to touch you..."
"but we played this all the time when we were kids!"
"mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," I returned my finger briefly to her mouth. "What do you want?"
She squirmed. "I want you to do what you were doing."
"What was that?"
"You were...you know!" She was so cute when she was flustered.
"I don't know," I said evenly.
"Tickling my...my...boobs."
"You want me to do exactly what I was doing? 'Tickling your boobs?' Just that?"
"N...no..."
"What else, jessi?"
"Keep going?"
I shook my head, though she couldn't see it. I didn't want to push my luck, so I said okay. I snaked my finger back to her mouth and began circling her nipples again. This time she started squirming even faster than before.
Before long, she was breathing hard, and mumbled something around my finger.
I pulled it out again. "What's that?"
"please touch me." she repeated.
"I am touching you, jess."
"There," she said. "You know."
"hm?" I circled dnagerously close to her right nipple, which I still hadn't touched.
"there!" Please."
"Ask me nicely."
She squirmed underneath me. "Please...will you...touch... my....my....nipples."
I smiled. Finally!
Without warning, I pinched both nipples as hard as I could. Jessi screamed and nearly threw herself clear of the bed I began rubbing her nipples frantically with both hands, while she tried in vain to suppress moans of ecstacy. As I rubbed, I inched my face closer and closer to her burnng pussy. I could feel the heat thru the swimsuit, and at that moment I lost what litte control I had.
I'll shoe you something even better! I told her, and pulled her swimsuit to te side, exposing her young vagina. Before she could say anything, I got to licking. Man, it tasted sweet! A 10 year old!
She was moaning loudly now, so loud I was afraid we'd get caught. But I didn't care, I was lost in the ecstacy of it all. Everything was quiet for a minute and for a second I had a crazy thought that I had killed her. But she moved, just barely, beneath me. I ripped the blindfold off her.
"okay, jess?"
"uh..yeah," she whispered. Then, weakly, "...ow."
I smiled. "Did that feel good?"
"Ye...yeah. Yeah, it...it did. Really good."
I petted her for a litle while, and after a couple minutes, the usual spark was back in her eyes. "Wow," she said. "Wow."
I laughed. "I think I'd better untie you now," I said slowly.
"No," she said quickly. "I mean, no... I'm okay. We can keep playing...if you want."
I looked at her, surprised, and incredibly turned on. Fuck, if my ex-girlfriends had been anywhere as hot as this little minx...
"Sure, jess." I said. "What do you want to play?" She shrugged, a cute gesture with her hands tied spread out. "I don't know!" she said. What do you want to play?"
"Hm... How about this: I ask you questions."
She looked at me funny, a cute, confused expression on her face. (Let's face it, everything she does is cute.) "How's that a game?"
I smiled. "It's a pretend torture game, okay? I'll ask you questions...and I'll torture you until you answer."
A flicker of doubt crossed her face. "You won't...really hurt me, will you?"
"Nah, Jess. I promise that you'll love this game as much as me."
She smiled uncertainly. "Okay. Do...do you want to blindfold me again?"
I raised my eyebrows. "Sure, jess, if that's what you want."
"I...I kinda like it, I guess. It's cool not knowing what you're going to do next, and it feels good.'
"Okay, jess. On with the blindfold." I carefully tied it back around her head, and she leaned back on my pillow.
"Let's see....first question. Hm. Something...embarrassing." She squirmed a little, playfully. "Okay, I've got it. Jess, when was the last time you wet the bed?"
"What?!" she squealed. I'm not gonna tell you that! "Yes, you are," I told her, and began to tickle her. She began to squirm and scream, laughing and gasping for breath. Every minute of so I would stop and prompt her to answer me...no dice.
"You're a stubborn one... I'll have to resort to other measures." I began tickling her again, harder--it might have been almost painful for her, to be honest, but of course she was laughing so hard it was impossible to tell. This time, I didn't stop, and I just kept going until I was worried she was going to pass out....but I didn't stop.
Finally, she managed to choke out "I'll tell you!" I immediately stopped tickling her, and let her rest. her small body still shook a bit, even after I stopped tickling her, and she spent a long time breathing hard, catching her breath back.
After a moment, I was done waitng. "Alright jess, break time's over. Answer the question...unless you want me to do that again?"
"No!" she shrieked. "I said I'd tell you. I... I was eight."
"Really?" I said in mock dismay. "That old? What a messy girl!"
Even under her blindfold, I could tell she was blushing furiously.
"Okay...next question... Let's see." My mind raced through the things that might embarrass a ten year old girl. Having never been one myself, I was havng trouble.
"Uh...how about this? What was the worst grade you got in school this year?"
"Do I...have... to tell you?"
"Yes."
"It was--"
"--you don't have to tell me right away!" I burst out.
She giggled. "I get it. Okay! Wait, I mean... 'I'll never tell you! Not in a million years!'"
"I guess I'll have to torture it out of you!" I said, using the same mock-boastful voice that she had just spoken with. She giggled again. Damn, the kid was adorable.
I gently pulled the blindfold off of her. This time, i wanted to see her face. She tilted her head and looked at me in surprise when she realised the bandana was off, but she didn't say anything.
I covered her mouth, and pinched her nose shut, and watched her eyes go WIDE. She immediately began thrashing underneath me. I silently counted to ten, and released her.
She sucked in a deep breath and glared at me. "You'll have to do better than that!" she boasted.
"I was counting on it," I smiled, and blocked her air again, this time holding for a count of fifteen. The expression on her face as she twisted under me was amazing--a mix of terror, anticipation, and rage--and once again, extreme relief when I let her go before she *really* needed a breath.
"Will you answer my question now?"
She smiled and said.
"--ok... please, no more"
"That was kinda quick of you, you know"
She giggled. Oh God she looked so cute...
"Yes. I'll try better with your next question."
"Very well then, do you like it when I'm doing THIS?"
I instantly started sucking on her nipples.
"--ahhh, no!! you can't!"
"Answer my question, do you like it?"
I started sucking harder, kissing her nipples from time to time.
"--yeess!! but you can't do this!"
Damn, the kid was adorable.
When I finally let go, she really gasped for breath. When she recomposed herself, her face went back to it's normally cute state.
"Okay, okay! My lowest grade this year was a 70!" she spurted out.
I didn't really know how to tease her or not, and there was this kind of awkward silence. She bit her bottom lip again, which was wet and pink. Might have been wet from the pool, but she also seemed to be licking her lips alot.
I decided to just try to impress her by complimenting her. "That's a good mark!" I said.
I felt pretty dorky after that, and it got a bit more awkward. Amazingly, she groaned and arched her back again. The awkwardness was lifting fast, as my PENIS started to take over my brain again.
"Aren't you going to ask me another one?" she asked me.
My dick was throbbing by now, and I couldn't hold myself back anymore. I pushed her gently back onto the bed with my palms. She stopped squirming, and my fingers ran up to her top.
I rolled up her top, so her nipples were revealed. They were so hard, and pink. I started to suck on them, when she started to seem uncomfortable.
"mmmmffff...." she moaned, as my hand darted for her panties.
I yanked them down past her knees, and she started to do a sort of pushup, trying to get me off I guess. She was bound pretty well, though, and she couldn't move.
I pulled my pants and boxers off in the blink of an eye, and started to stroke her vagina. She started to protest when she saw my PENIS, but I put my hand over her mouth again. I could feel her tongue breach against my sweaty palm, as I continued to play with her.
I positioned myself ontop of her, then, with my hand still on her mouth. I kneeled over her, and slid my PENIS into her finally. Even though she was protesting, she was really fucking wet. God, was she wet. Her pussy juice flowed all over my dick, and I nearly came right there.
She bit my palm, and started to scream under it. My room door was closed, though, and I was sure no one could hear her. I started to thrust hard into her, and this seemed to cause her pain. She obviously wasn't developed enough to handle my penis.
After a few minutes of me fucking her, I came inside of her. I pulled out, and there was a little bit of blood on my dick. I guess this was her first time. She was crying by now, and I finally released my palm from her mouth.
She just laid there, shuddering. Snot ran down her nose and mixed with her tears. I unbound her and rubbed her belly for a few seconds, before I felt this really guilty feeling. I rolled her panties back up, threw her towel on her, and walked out of the room.

Pedo Girlfriend

I can't believe I'm doing this... but I need your advice, /b/.
I come home today to find 8 or 9 select images from my CP collection on my monitor. The really hardcore stuff. I'm sure some of you have seen the set of the 6 year old girl in the dog collar crying while she's molested. That kinda caliber of stuff.
I know I'm fucked. I never leave my PC on when I'm at work, and I certainly don't leave CP onscreen. I walk into the kitchen and my girlfriend is sitting at the table eating a sandwhich. This is it. I'm proper fucked.
"Hey" "So... are you into that kinda stuff?" no point denying the obvious "Yea... I mean... fuck I've never done anything to any kids or anything. I've never paid anyone. I... it's just the way I'm wired I guess. Shit I dunno..." "Huh... you know there's places where you can do stuff like that." "What?" She slides some travel brochures for thailand and the phillipines over the table. "Maybe we should think about somewhere else for vacation instead of new york this year."
She gets up, puts her plate in the sink, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and leaves for class.
This has to be a trick. She must be setting me up for the death penalty or something. God wouldn't let me be this happy. There's no way in hell I can have a pedo girlfriend.
Sadly... I'm in your hands, /b/.

Trapped Babysitter

I was 9, and was getting babysat by the 18 year old boy down the street. Even at 9 I knew I had power over men. I was always getitng told how cute I was, how adorable I was. I was determied to prove that I could control a man. I still feel that I loved the boy that was babysitting me the night I did it. it wasn't rape. it was love. I knew what I was doing.
As soon as my parents left, I changed into my 'man trapping' outfit. My favorite pair of panties (pink My Little Pony) and a tank top. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when I walked out. I played it slow, rubbing against him, on the couch. Eventually I moved onto his lap and ground my cute butt into his crotch. I could feel his manhood growing. I couldn't take it. I got up, stood infront of him, pulled down my panties, and told him to touch me.I could tell he was impressed. Even at 9, my penis was a good 4 inches erect. He worked the balls and the tip. I will always remember his strong hands around my shaft.

When I was 12

Actually, it's nothing I'm proud of and I still regret to this day. But I digress.
When I was 12, I told some of my friends that I thought I was gay. My one friend, Jessica, knew this gay 15 year old guy and showed him my picture. He thought I was cute. We talked for not even two days, and the next day, he came over. He started feeling my dick through my pants, and I felt his. I pulled down his pants, and he had this huge 9 inch boner. I sucked him off, then we did some jacking off to eachother. He did me up the ass for a bit. It REALLY hurt. I couldn't walk right for a few days, and it bled. Then we just jacked eachother off until we came.
I felt so bad after that. Mainly because I find sex a mutual thing that you should do in a relationship.

Single parent of a 15 year old daughter

I'm a single parent of a 15-year old daughter. She appears to be quite active with her masturbating. I want to ask your advice. About 6 months ago I happened to walk past my daughter's bedroom late at night and heard a buzzing sound. I stopped and stood silently close to her door to try to figure out what it was, and soon I realized that she was probably masturbating with a vibrator. I have absolutely no sexual desires toward my daughter, but I was very surprised and somehow spellbound to just stand there listening to her. I could hear soft moans and occasionally more audible sounds that indicated she was orgasming. I was shocked and amazed at how long she went on; probably for close to an hour (with numerous apparent orgasms).

The next day when she went to school I stayed home to look around in the room, and eventually I found a box with several sexual aids behind a pile of sweaters in a closet. I was just stunned at how seriously she seemed to be experimenting with masturbation. The massager I had heard had several different attachments for clitoris massage. There were also several dildos of different shapes and sizes and various oils and lotions. But the most disturbing was a big pile of e-mail printouts, correspondence between her and a married man in his 40s in Canada. I spent some time going through this material, and the bottom line is that she had posted an ad for a sexual pen-pal a year ago and started an e-mail relationship with this guy. She writes about being constantly turned on and describes in detail how she masturbates and what her orgasms feel like. The guy encourages her to try new ways to make herself come stronger and more easily. It turns out he sent her all these things that she uses on herself. I got the impression that they guy is not really attempting to meet her, but who knows what it may yet turn into.

I am thinking about somehow approaching my daughter about her sexuality, but I haven't decided how to do that without disclosing that I know what she is up to. It would be nice to know what other people think about all this.

Wife gave birth

WWoooohoooooo /b/. My wife just gave birth and yes it is a GIRL. Oh man so fucking sweet. Right tho, i have to figure out some way of making sure she grows up into the perfect daddy loving loli. There must be some way of making sure that several years from now i will be fucking the tightest pusssy i will ever get my dick into. So cmon /b/ we need to make a plan, and i shall keep us all updated with the progress.

Constitutional rights

If the choice of a sexual partner were protected by the Constitution, prostitution, adultery, necrophilia, bestiality, possession of child pornography, and even incest and pedophilia also would be. All of these acts should be legal as long as no one is coerced. They are illegal only because of prejudice and narrowmindedness. Some rules might be called for when these acts directly affect other people's interests. For incest, contraception could be mandatory to avoid risk of inbreeding. For prostitution, a license should be required to ensure prostitutes get regular medical check-ups, and they should have training and support in insisting on use of condoms. This will be an advance in public health, compared with the situation today. For necrophilia, it might be necessary to ask the next of kin for permission if the decedent's will did not authorize it. Necrophilia would be my second choice for what should be done with my corpse, the first being scientific or medical use. Once my dead body is no longer of any use to me, it may as well be of some use to someone.

Joshing

In all the outcry against them, too many people are forgetting the contributions pedophile catholic clergymen have made to our society. Did you know that the term "Joshing" someone, meaning to kid actually comes from Joshua Fairbanks, an altar boy famous for believing Father Jacob Cooper's laughable claim that he could perform the miracle of transubstantiation if Joshua allowed him to ejaculate in the boy's mouth. ohh yeah

I'm new here

I'm new to this channel, but I would just like to tell you that you are an inspiring individual. I appreciate your efforts. I'm not a pedophile myself, but I happen to enjoy viewing lolicon on a regular basis, so I'm well aware of the prejudices you face. Never stop fighting for what you believe in.

Willem Dafoe

Willem Dafoe gave a fabulous performance with his real-life portrayal of a monstrous child molester as he smashed through my son's window, grabbed him around the neck, and raped him viciously. He was gracious enough to use lubrication, and to jerk my sons little cock back and forth ohh yeah.

Unlimited Blade Works

A Work of an Infinite Amount of Weapons Containing One or More Sharp Edges

The materials that were required for producing this particular bladed weapon comes from the organism that I call myself.
The framework that is my body is produced from an alloy consisting mostly of iron, with a carbon content between 0.02% and 1.7 or 2.04% by weight, depending on grade and
instead of a liquid flowing through my veins, arteries, and capillaries, a rapid oxidation process that creates light, heat, smoke occurs.
I have gone through the process of producing multiple various blades for an amount of times exceeding a thousand.
Not currently acquainted with the concept of the cessation of all bodily functions, however, still having no previous knowledge of these functions themselves.
Have remained stoic to ignore the pain caused by the manufacturing process in order to complete the forging of numerous tools of war.
Yet these two intricate, prehensile, multi-fingered body parts normally located at the end of each arm shall not maintain a firm grasp on any single object.
Therefore, I reverently attempt to communicate with some deity or being greater than my own in order obtain
A Work of an Infinite Amount of Weapons Containing One or More Sharp Edges

Unlimited Copy-Pasta Works

I am the Bel of my Air.
CTRL+C is my body, and CTRL+V is my blood.
I have reposted over a thousand posts.
Unaware of post limits. Nor aware of flood protection.
Withstood bans to ruin many threads.
Waiting for one's arrival.
I have no regrets, this was the only path.
My whole life is Unlimited Copy-Pasta Works.

Unlimited Satori Works

I am the bone of my SICP.
Scheme is my body, and Lisp is my blood.
I have typed over 1024 parentheses.
Unknown to Java.
Nor known to C#.
Have withstood emacs to write many programs.
Yet these skills will never lead to a career.
So as I pray, Unlimited Satori Works!

Unlimited Troll Works

I am the kami of my 2GET.
DQN is my body, and VIP is my blood.
I have created over a thousand kusosure.
Unknown to world4ch
Nor known to 4-ch.
Have withstood bans to create many flamewars.
Yet, those posts will never contribute anything.
So as I pray, Unlimited Troll Works. </aa>

I am the 1000 of my GET.
VIP is my body, and kopipe is my blood.
I have created over 999 posts.
Unaware of /b/.
Nor aware of fchan.
Withstood bans to create many flamewars.
Waiting for one's arrival.
I have no regrets, this was the only path.
My whole life was Unlimited Troll Works.

Unlimited Fail Works

I am the epic of my fail.
Stick is my body and fail is my blood.
I have created over a thousand threads.
Unknown to b&, nor to age,
have withstood sagebombs to create many threads.
Yet, those hands will never win anything.
So, as I pray, UNLIMITED FAIL WORKS

tanasinn

I am the tanasinn of my tanasinn.
dots are my body, and ∴ is my blood.
I have corrupted over a thousand ASCII.
Unaware of thinking.
Nor aware of not feeling.
Withstood pain to create many tanasinn.
Waiting for enterprise integration's arrival.
I h∴ve no r∴∴rets, t∴∴s is∴∴∴∴ pat∴.
∴y ∴h∴le li∴e ∴as "U∴∴mit∴∴ tanasinn ∴∴k∴∴∴∴
∴∴
∴∴.
∴ ∴


Japanophilia

A Misunderstood Man

Shinji...I don't get why he gets all the hate on /a/. FSN is just written to make him out as the bad guy, when really he's no worse than any of the 'protagonists' and a better person than most of them.

What are the main complaints? He raped Sakura and stole Rider to use in the war?

Okay, let's get this straight. He never fucking raped Sakura. He never did it. He never did it. He never did it. He never did it. He fucked Sakura.

Let me ask you this. WHO IN THE GAME DIDN'T FUCK SAKURA? You can't even name one fucking character who hasn't plugged her loose cunt! She is the kind of bitch who will act like she doesn't want it when she really does. She'll say No! while having multiple orgasms. Shinji knew this, he's a fucking ladies man. He knows what filthy whores like Sakura want.

And there's this other big bitch you guys have with him. He supposedly stole Rider and used her in the war for his own greed.

Objection! He was worried about his one and only precious sister. Is keeping your loved ones from a brutal war so wrong? When Shirou does the same thing to Saber it's like 'oh he's so manly', but when Shinji does it it's wrong? He just wanted to protect Sakura. He probably was going to use his Holy Grail wish to tighten her cunt back up or cure her syphilis or something.

The story was written to make that faggot Shirou look good. Objectively, Shinji is a far better character than Shirou. At least he has the balls to take action decisively instead of dicking around like Shirou, and if he weren't stuck with the weak ass servant Rider and no plothax he probably would have won the war.

Japan

Japan...I don't get why she gets all the hate on /jp/. World War II is just written to make her out as the bad guy, when really she's no worse than any of the 'protagonists' and a better country than most of them.

What are the main complaints? She raped China and stole Southeast Asia to use in the war?

Okay, let's get this straight. She never fucking raped China. She never did it. She never did it. She never did it. She never did it. She fucked China.

Let me ask you this. WHO IN THE WORLD DIDN'T FUCK CHINA? You can't even name one fucking nation who hasn't flooded her loose ports! She is the kind of bitch who will act like she doesn't want it when she really does. She'll say No! while signing multiple treaties. Japan knew this, she's a fucking ladies man. She knows what filthy whores like China want.

And there's this other big bitch you guys have with her. She supposedly stole Southeast Asia and used her in the war for her own greed.

Objection! She was worried about her one and only precious Brother-Asians. Is keeping your loved ones from a brutal imperialism so wrong? When America does the same thing to the Phillipines it's like 'oh she's so manly', but when Japan does it it's wrong? She just wanted to protect Asia. She probably was going to use her superpower status to tighten her ports back up or cure her malaria or something.

The history was written to make that faggot America look good. Objectively, Japan is a far better country than America. At least she has the balls to take action decisively instead of dicking around like America, and if she wasn't stuck with the weak ass colony Corea and no plothax she probably would have won the war.

Kyou

Kyou...I don't get why she gets all the hate on /jp/. Clannad is just written to make her out as the slut, when really she's no worse than any of the 'protagonists' and a better person than most of them.

What are the main complaints? She was all "supporting" her sister in trying to get with Tomoya, but as soon as she thought he was after her she was all ready to spread her bowling pins for him? And then cried pathetically when she didn't get the cock herself?

Okay, let's get this straight. She fucking spread her legs open. She did it. She did it. She did it. She did it. She wanted Tomoya to plug her loose cunt.

Let me ask you this. WHO IN THE GAME DIDN'T WANT TO GET FUCKED BY TOMOYA? You can't even name one fucking character who didn’t want to get plugged by his huge dick! He is the kind of pimp who will act like he doesn't want it when he really does. He'll say No! while having multiple orgasms. Kyou knew this, she's a fucking slut in sheep’s clothing. She knows what awesome pimps like Tomoya want.

And there's this other big bitch you guys have with her. She supposedly cried pathetically when she didn't get the cock herself.

Objection! She was just pathetic like her one and only precious sister. Is crying over heartache so wrong? When Ryou does the same thing over Kappei it's like 'oh I want to hug and comfort her', but when Kyou does it it's wrong? She just wanted to release all her pent up feelings. She probably was going to become a teacher to tighten the children’s morality up so they won’t end up as sluts like her and spread AIDS or something.

The story was written to make that whore Kyou look good. Objectively, Ryou is a far better character than Kyou. At least she has the balls to take action decisively instead of dicking around like Kyou, and if she weren't stuck with that weak ass personality and no plothax she probably could have fucked the entire cast.

Reimu

Reimu...I don't get why she gets all the hate on /jp/. Touhou is just written to make her out as the destroyer, when really she's no worse than any of the 'protagonists' and a better person than most of them.

What are the main complaints? She allowed the Lunarians to rape Kaguya and used Alice to get close to Marisa?

Okay, let's get this straight. She never fucking raped Marisa. She never did it. She never did it. She never did it. She never did it. She fucked Marisa.

Let me ask you this. WHO IN THE GAME DIDN'T WANT TO FUCK MARISA? You can't even name one fucking character who didn’t want to plug her tight vag! She is the kind of bitch who will act like she doesn't want it when she really does. She'll say Ze~! while having multiple orgasms. Eirin knew this, she's a fucking man’s lady. She knows what filthy whores like Marisa want.

And there's this other big bitch you guys have with her. She supposedly used Alice to get closer to Marisa.

Objection! She was worried about her one and only precious witch. Is keeping your loved ones from heartache so wrong? When Sakuya does the same thing to Meiling it's like 'oh she's so sexy', but when Reimu does it it's wrong? She just wanted to protect Marisa. She probably was going to study magic to tighten Gensokyo's borders back up or cure Patchouli's asthma or something.

The story was written to make that faggot Sakuya look good. Objectively, Reimu is a far better character than Sakuya. At least she has the balls to take action decisively instead of dicking around like Sakuya, and if she weren't stuck with that lazy ass personality and invincible plothax she probably could have killed the entire cast. I mean, fucked.

Ryou

Ryou...I don't get why she gets all the hate on /jp/. Clannad is just written to make her out as the slut, when really she's no worse than any of the 'protagonists' and a better person than most of them.

What are the main complaints? She raped Kappei and used Kyou to get close to Tomoya?

Okay, let's get this straight. She never fucking raped Kappei. She never did it. She never did it. She never did it. She never did it. She fucked Kappei.

Let me ask you this. WHO IN THE GAME DIDN'T WANT TO FUCK KAPPEI? You can't even name one fucking character who didn’t want to plug his loose ass! He is the kind of bitch who will act like he doesn't want it when he really does. He'll say No! while having multiple orgasms. Ryou knew this, she's a fucking man’s lady. She knows what filthy man-whores like Kappei want.

And there's this other big bitch you guys have with her. She supposedly used Kyou to get closer to Tomoya.

Objection! She was worried about her one and only precious sister. Is keeping your loved ones from heartache so wrong? When Sunohara does the same thing to Mei it's like 'oh he's so manly', but when Ryou does it it's wrong? She just wanted to protect Kyou. She probably was going to study medicine to tighten Kappei’s ass back up or cure his syphilis or something.

The story was written to make that faggot Sunohara look good. Objectively, Ryou is a far better character than Sunohara. At least she has the balls to take action decisively instead of dicking around like Sunohara, and if she weren't stuck with that weak ass personality and no plothax she probably could have fucked the entire cast.

SHIKI

SHIKI...I don't get why he gets all the hate on /jp/. Tsukihime is just written to make him out as the bad guy, when really he's no worse than any of the 'protagonists' and a better person than most of them.

What are the main complaints? He raped Kohaku and stole Shiki’s life force?

Okay, let's get this straight. He never fucking raped Kohaku. He never did it. He never did it. He never did it. He never did it. He fucked Kohaku.

Let me ask you this. WHO IN THE GAME DIDN'T FUCK KOHAKU? You can't even name one fucking character who hasn't plugged her loose cunt! She is the kind of bitch who will act like she doesn't want it when she really does. She'll say No! while having multiple orgasms. SHIKI knew this, he's a fucking ladies man. He knows what filthy whores like Kohaku want.

And there's this other big bitch you guys have with him. He supposedly stole Shiki’s life force.

Objection! He was worried about his one and only precious sister. Is keeping your loved ones from family problems so wrong? When Akiha does the same thing to Shiki it's like 'oh she's so womanly', but when SHIKI does it it's wrong? He just wanted to protect Akiha. He probably was going to use his Tohno Inheritance to tighten Kohaku’s cunt back up or cure her syphilis or something.

The story was written to make that faggot Shiki look good. Objectively, SHIKI is a far better character than Shiki. At least he has the balls to take action decisively instead of dicking around like Shiki, and if he weren't stuck with that weak ass Blood Swords power of his and no Mystic Eyes of Death Perception plothax he probably would have won the fight.

Shirazumi Lio

Shirazumi Lio...I don't get why he gets all the hate on /jp/. Kara no Kyoukai is just written to make him out as the bad guy, when really he's no worse than any of the 'protagonists' and a better person than most of them.

What are the main complaints? He tried to fuck Mikiya and made it look like that Shiki was the murderer?

Okay, let's get this straight. He didnt fucked up Mikiya . He never did it. He never did it. He never did it. He never did it. Mikiya fucked himself.

Let me ask you this. WHO IN THE NOVEL DIDN'T WANT TO FUCK MIKIYA? You can't even name one fucking character who didn’t want to plug his loose ass! He is the kind of bitch who will act like he doesn't want it when he really does. He'll say No! while having multiple orgasms. Lio knew this, he's a fucking manly man. He knows what filthy man-whores like Mikiya want.

And there's this other big bitch you guys have with him. He supposedly made it look like that Shiki was the murderer.

Objection! He was worried about his one and only precious kohai. Is keeping your loved ones from massacre so wrong? When Mikiya does the same thing to Shiki it's like 'oh he's so manly', but when Lio does it it's wrong? He just wanted to protect Shiki. He probably was going to use Shiki’s connection to Akasha to tighten Mikiya’s ass back up or cure his syphilis or something.

The story was written to make that faggot Mikiya look good. Objectively, Lio is a far better character than Mikiya. At least he has the balls to take action decisively instead of investigating around like Mikiya, and if he weren't stuck with that weak ass power of his and no Mystic Eyes of Death Perception plothax he probably could have won the fight.

Tsugumi

Tsugumi ...I don't get why she gets all the hate on /jp/. Ever17 is just written to make her out as the bitch, when really she's no worse than any of the 'protagonists' and a better person than most of them.

What are the main complaints? She raped Takeshi and killed Chami with her own hands?

Okay, let's get this straight. She never fucking raped Takeshi. She never did it. She never did it. She never did it. She never did it. She fucked Takeshi.

Let me ask you this. WHO IN THE GAME DIDN'T WANT TO FUCK TAKESHI? You can't even name one fucking character who didn’t want to plug his loose ass! He is the kind of bitch who will act like he doesn't want it when he really does. He'll say No! while having multiple orgasms. Tsugumi knew this, she's a fucking man’s lady. She knows what filthy man-whores like Takeshi want.

And there's this other big bitch you guys have with her. She supposedly killed Chami with her own hands.

Objection! She was worried about her one and only precious pet. Is keeping your loved ones from a prolonged death so wrong? When Sora does the same thing to Takeshi it's like 'oh she's so womanly', but when Tsugumi does it it's wrong? She just wanted to protect Chami. She probably was going to use LeMU’s technology to tighten Takeshi’s ass back up or cure his syphilis or something.

The story was written to make that faggot Sora look good. Objectively, Tsugumi is a far better character than Sora. At least she has the balls to take action decisively instead of dicking around like Sora, and if she weren't stuck with that weak ass steel pipe in her leg and no plothax she probably could have escaped by herself.

Apples and Milk: The Emily Connor Saga

Apples and Milk: The Emily Connor Saga.

Hello, my name is Toshiro Fujiwara, I live in Tokyo. I have for you a very interesting story.

I was at the airport wishing my mother and sister safe travel to Hawaii. I stood at the departure gates and watched as they dissapeared into the growing crowds of people. I turned to leave and saw a nervous white girl standing, looking around like she had lost track of someone. I am nice so I approached her and asked what was wrong in my best english. "Hello, you are lost yes?".

She almost laughed, "Yeah, sorta, I think my Taxi never showed up, I've been here for an hour!" I paused. "Hmm, I can give you ride, madam" I stuttered. I was not very threatening, a small skinny Jap wou could be overpowered by the elderly, I dont think she felt threatened by me saying this.

"Sure, oh, I speak Japanese". She contorted her face into a smile.

I then started to speak to her in Japanese as I led her to the parking lot. "Where are you from?" I asked. She replied "USA, Florida". I knew not of where Florida was, but it sounded mysterious and foreign to me. "Do you have a place to stay?" I then asked.

"No, not yet." She replied. "My name is Emily". "Emiry" I thought, a pretty name.

I mentioned that my father owned a big hotel in Tokyo, and offered to take her there. She accepted, and I opened my car doors with the key. "Put the bags in the back, there is a very big trunk!". She began to hoist the suitcases into the trunk. "I wish I had some junk in my trunk." I didnt know what to say to that. "Uh, small buts are fine too". She blushed and giggled. As we got in the car she sat down in the passenger side and immediately let out a huge yawn. "Tired?" I asked. She nodded and closed her eyes. I took the time to glance at her supple breasts. B cup I would estimate, that's large for Japan.

I started the engine and off we went to the hotel.

We were in front of the hotel, in a VIP parking spot. It was not nighttime. She was asleep. "Wake up!" I yelled quietly. She didnt wake, so I moved my hand over to touch her shoulder. She jumped, and grabbed my hand with both arms. It was an awkward moment, I felt her warm hands grasping my cold wrists. She slid her hands slightly down my arm, and I almost felt a sensation in my penis. She let go. "Sorry..." she said solemnly. I nodded. We both opened the doors and went to the trunk to grab the luggage.

She hoisted her big briefcase over her back, and bent down to carry it up the stairs. I followed with a smaller package. I watched her butt up ahead, it was so fine. I knew I needed to get her in bed.

I saw my brother at the reception desk. I waved and he pointed at the girl. "Oh, she is a friend from USA, needs a room." My brother smiled. "The upper suite is vacant now, that fat Canadian guy left this morning, it's been cleaned." She continued to the elevator and I looked back at my brother. He winked, and I winked back.

We finally made it to the 80th floor where the suite was. There was a beautiful view of Tokyo here, I had never appreciated the view at night. "Wow... it's romantic hehe" she giggled as she dropped her suitcase. I shut the door and we both walked over to the huge windows to admire the city. "Yup, this is where I live" I said. I couldnt take the tension any longer. I put my arm over her shoulder, and she giggled and blushed. "I thought I'd have to ask for stuff like this" she said. "Nah, it's mutual." I looked into her eyes. She dove into my face and began to furiously kiss my. I felt my dick filling up. I slowly manuevered her to the bed, and pushed her down. I pulled my T-shirt off, and she took off hers. I tried to get on top of her but she then pushed me off to the side, then leapt on top. "I like it here better" she giggled as she straddled me. I felt her warmth across my midsection as she undid her bra. She pulled my pants off, and then hers. My raging boner stuck through my boxers as she took off her panties. Slowly she mounted my dick, I felt the warmth blanketing my dick. Up, down, up, down, in, out, in, out...

Then there was a knock at the door, and it opened. "Where the Yanqui girl at?" Someone shouted. It was my father.

We both froze, and I saw him come into view. He stood staring at us, but then began to unbutton his shirt. "If your mother is away, a Yanqui is fine too." He bellowed. Emiry started to blush and my father pounced on the bed like an animal. "My son, you have seen me naked many time before, do not be ashamed, we both seek pleasure. Emily seemed uncomfortable as my father grabbed her waist. In one move he drove his cock into her butt and Emiry grimaced and put her head down. I was worried, but then she put her head back up and I saw she was smiling again. "That was pretty intense" she remaked with a giggle, and my father started thrusting. I then took the other end and put my cock in her mouth. Back and forth we pushed her like a two handed saw.

Then the door opened again, now with lots of footsteps. My father smiled, but I was nervious.

I then saw that it was my brother, and he had brought about 10 of his friends froms school. They were visibly drunk and louder than I've ever heard them. Emiry looked shocked but my father and I continued to push her between us. My brother and his friends were hopping around, quickly taking off all their clothes. When they were butt naked they leaped on the bed until it was covered with bodies. Those who could not get a footing on the bed stood around. They all started furiously masterbating, to the point where it was very noisy with the sound of lotioned stroking. Emiry started to sqeal. Her body was getting tight. We contintued to thrust back and forth until her entire body spasmed and she let out a muffled scream of pleasure. I then cummed down her throat, and she stood back from my dick and looked at the ceiling licking her lips. Within seconds my brothers friends had all came to climax, and they shot their juice all over her face and chest. She was thourghly frosted from the waist up in cum, as more began to splash on her like a sprinkler. She tried to wipe her eyes clear of the layers of milky semen, but my father grabbed her arms, came around in front of her and delivered the final squirt right between the eyes. She fell over backwards on the bed and we all stood around the bed looking at her, giggling.

"Welcome" said my father. "Welcome, to Japan".

Bento box

Im looking for a bento box, it cant be pinku (thats japanese for pink) or any girl color. It has to be of 2 or more kotoba (thats japanese for 2 compartments) and has be be chibi (small) sized. And has to be really kawaii (cute). Also It has to be about 10-20 bux. And you have to post pics of it first (i want to make shure it's kawaii [cute]). And it would be nice if it came with matching chopstick holder (WITH chopsticks). OH! and it CANNOT have any cartoon pictures, or be made out of plastic. It has to be made of ceramic, or something like that. Also it would be nice if it was made in japan. and not in china or corea (korea) or whatever. I have found a bento box similar to the one im describing in e-bay, but it was 1 kotoba, and i dont want my gohan (rice) to touch my other things (it can get wet and i would not like that, plus 2 compartments looks more kawaii)

cool story

Hi! My name is Sakuya and I want to tell you a story!

I joined Alice, Reimu and Marisa on their adventure to Japan! We all wanted to see what a dick looked like because we had never seen one. We heard they were very hard, so we had some pads to protect us.

We all got into a small, poorly made, Japanese vehicle and started to drive downtown. We saw a weird midget and a really big faggot! It almost yelled at us, but Reimu made the car move faster. Whew, that was close! We passed by a bar full of gay men. It was very FABULOUS!

After we made it to Akihabara , Reimu spotted a penis. It was very big and hard, just like our friends said. Good thing we had lots of condoms with us! The penis swarmed right at us and he penetrated our vaginas! I was sure we were done for, but then Marisa said she would go talk to the dick.

"Hi there Mr. Dick. You penetrated our vaginas! Why would you do such a thing?"

The prick didn't want to talk to Marisa. He raped her, and it looked like he was going to cum in her! But never fear, because Alice, Reimu and I went out to save her! We brought some condoms with us. They threw the condoms at the penis, and it started to throb. It let go of Marisa, and we all got back into the car. When I told my friends at Scarlet Devil Mansion what happened, they didn't believe me.

"You're lying, Sakuya! There is no dick big enough to do that! I'll go down and see it for myself!"

But that's ANOTHER story! The end.

DEATH TO ALL JAPANESE WORDS

I'm gonna go down to the [vinegared rice topped with raw fish] bar and have some [rice wine]. Afterwards maybe I'll do some [singing along to instrumental versions of popular songs]. I can't stay out too late though, because I have a [empty handed martial arts] lesson in the morning. Maybe later I'll play some [Clump of Souls] on PS2. The Prince sure loves rolling that [clump] around. In the end, I'll probably just end up posting some [perverted fan comics] on the [perversion] board of Four Channel.

Genesis

In the beginning, heaven and earth were not divided. Then, from the ocean of chaos, a reed arose, and that was the eternal land ruler, Kunitokotatchi.

Then came the female God, Izanami, and the male, Izanagi.

They looked down into the chaos and said, "Is that not land?"

Then Izanagi THRUST HIS HUGE BURNING MANLY SPEAR INTO THE CHAOS AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN. THE CHAOS BLED WHERE HE HAD PIERCED IT WITH HIS MANLY WEAPON.

HARDER AND HARDER IZANAGI POUNDED THE CHAOS SEA, IZAMANI LOOKING ON IN ABJECT INTEREST AT HIS FIERCE AND DOMINANT STATURE.

FINALLY, THE CHAOS AND INZANAGI SHUDDERED, INANAGI WITHDRAWING HIS SPEAR DRIPPING FROM THE CHAOS'S FLUIDITY. *drip drip drip*

From there, the drops became the island of Japan. Therefore, >>5244945

Greatest Victim

Japan selflessly fought against the Western imperialists for the freedom of all Asian peoples, and brought order to a China tormented by the despotism of mafia-like warlords. But the U.S. greedily saw this as a threat to business interests in China, and gave huge sums of aid and military support to said warlords. Japan was forced to make war with the U.S., already a de facto belligerent by proxy.

The Japanese soldiers fought with unparalleled valor, yet always chivalrously, always fairly. The U.S., on the other hand, fought with scornful negligence of the principles of just and legitimate warfare, massacring hundreds of thousands of innocent Japanese civilians in a ruthless campaign of terror bombings and, most atrociously, deploying the atomic bombs over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, a barbaric form of warfare alien to the very spirit of Japanese culture and morality.

Perhaps the sad truth is that the world is to malicious a place for a country like Japan. If she would only have condescended to the same filthy kind of warfare that the Americans and the Chinese waged, it is possible, even likely, that she would have prevailed.

In the light of history, Japan is the greatest victim of WWII.

hey, hybrid american

hey,hybrid american.
i don't your future and killing soon!
http://darkelf.dip.jp/images/sadam2.jpg
go back america from ryukyu
we hate hybrid monsters. give back racial island!
will be growing up terrorism!
http://darkelf.dip.jp/doubt/index_en.html

In my home country

In my home country, this is Nara of Japan, american student

1. steal stuff everything

2. lying to policeman

3. spit to face when talking, mouth smell bad

4. don't have money, many american student, hole in cloths and dirty pants, old shoes

5. raping? jap girl because jap girl say american boy no thanks, very ugly and fat

6. very smell of food eating by american

7. very smell of body, no bath long time, sometime 10 days?

american=monkey same

Cambridge

In my home country, this is Cambridge of Massachusetts, japanese student
1.giving out stuff everything
2.never lyingto policeman
3.very polite when talking, speech is good manners
4.have money, many japanese student, well fit cloths and dapper pants, shiny shoes
5.helping? america gal because america gal say jap boy help please, very polite and humble
6.very pleasing odor of food eating by japanese
7.very good body, bath every day, sometime 2 times?
japanese=god same

gensokyo

In my home country, this is gensokyo, youkai student
1.stealing stuff everything
2.lyingto yama
3.spit to face when flying, mouth is bad smell
4.dont having money, many youkai student, hole in hats and dirty bloomers, old ribbons
5.raping earth rabbit l because earth rabbit say youkai girl no thanks, very ugly and fat
6.very smell of food eating by human
7.very smell body, no bath long time, sometime 10 days?

youkai=monkey same

/prog/

In my home board, this is /prog/ of w4ch, Anonymous
1.stealing memes everything
2.lyingto EXPERT PROGRAMMER
3.spit to monitor when posting, type with one finger
4.dont read SICP, many Anonymous, hole in keyboard and dirty editor, old compiler
5.trolling? C programmer because C programmer say Python no thanks, very slow and large binaries
6.very smell of Enterprise programming by Anonymous
7.very smell code, no refactor long time, sometime 10 days?
Anonymous=Guido same

Japan

Okay listen you fuckwit, I'm tired of seeing your shitpost all the time.
FIrst off, you fucking twerp, it's konnichiwa, not Gomenasai.
KO NI CHI FUCKING WA. Gomenasai means sorry.
Second, you're a fucking retard for thinking japanese games are superior in any kind. They're as good and bas as american ones. I also bet your drawings look like shit.
Now, you fucking faggot, let me teach you something about swords.
The best thing your glorious Katana can cut through is a bamboo straw, and NOT FUCKING STEEL. LEARN THAT FOR FUCKS SAKE.And it's folded about 10 times, for a total 800 kayers at fucking most. Nobody's gonna sit 5 years in his room and polish a rod, exept you maybe because you can't get any pussy.
Now, you're telling me that you know stuff about japanese history. HA HA FUCKING HA FAGGOT. You couldn'T even get a proper Kana if your life depended on it, not like it's worth anything. No fucking one wears a goddamn Kimono in the streets, you retarded fuckwit.
Go on, move to Japan, get laughed at by fucking everyone, I might just fly with you to have a seat in the front row when your spirit is shattered to a thousand bits. No one is gonna like an acne-ridden wannabe-japanese who doesn't know shit about the culture he so disgustingly admires.

Now, kindly fuck off and die, you scum of the earth.

America

Okay listen you fuckwit, I'm tired of seeing your shitpost all the time.
FIrst off, you fucking twerp, it's Hello, not Howdy.
H E L L O. Howdy means you're a homo.
Second, you're a fucking retard for thinking American games are superior in any kind. They're as good and bas as japanese ones. I also bet your drawings look like shit.
Now, you fucking faggot, let me teach you something about branding.
The best thing your white hot branding iron can leave a mark on is bamboo straw, and NOT FUCKING COWHIDE. LEARN THAT FOR FUCKS SAKE.And it's got no feet, for a total 0 ass kicks at fucking most. Nobody's gonna sit 5 years in his room and polish a branding iron, exept you maybe because you can't get any pussy.
Now, you're telling me that you know stuff about cowboy code. HA HA FUCKING HA FAGGOT. You couldn'T even get a proper 10 gallon hat if your life depended on it, not like it's worth anything.
No fucking one wears a goddamn cowboy outfit in the streets, you retarded fuckwit.
Go on, move to America, get laughed at by fucking everyone, I might just fly with you to have a seat in the front row when your spirit is shattered to a thousand bits. No one is gonna like an acne-ridden wannabe-american who doesn't know shit about the culture he so disgustingly admires.

Kara no Kyokai

The Kara no Kyoukai BD box set will be released for $400.

"What, indeed, is money?" I asked.

She flipped her long auburn hair with the casual elegance of a spider walking among snakes, and began to speak.

"Currency is a system that man has devised in order to give his efforts-- which you and I understand are ultimately meaningless on the astral scale, but the thrashing of a fly whose legs have yet to be torn off--"

(I recalled that like the dinosaurs, humanity would eventually be destroyed by some mundane natural occurrence like a meteor: we were too insiginificant for gods to take notice of.)

"--value. The wealth number, such as it is, can be increased by work and decreased in exchange for goods and services, like our morning tea and the maid who brings it to us."

And indeed, the frills she wore. I understood this concept. It was like the use of male reproductive liquids in the magical world. In a corner of my mind, I began a series of calculations that would eventually result in my magical wealth number.

"A box set of the Japanese animated feature film series Kara no Kyoukai on Blu-Ray Disc will cost the big brothers in America four hundred of their dollar-bills. Each film would cost fifty of these strange paper strips."

This is more than the typical American big brother pays for a motion picture recorded onto any sort of discus, and many are concerned that there will be no papers left for them to ward off demons with. In Japan, 100,000 big brothers paid even more yen-coins for their discs, but as they view the discs less as a practical item than as religious offerings of an odd sort, they are pleased."

I'd made up my mind. I had to ask her.

"Sis--"

"Yes, simpleton?"

A hint of joy was mixed with her disdain.

"I want to buy Kara no Kyoukai. Is there a way to exchange my semen for some of these dollar-bills?"

She paused, blushing.

"That is possible."

Ken-Sama

Original

Gomenasai, my name is Ken-Sama.

I'm a 27 year old American Otaku. I draw Anime and Manga on my tablet, and spend my days perfecting my art and playing superior Japanese games. (Disgaea, Final Fantasy, God Hand)

I train with my Katana every day, this superior weapon can cut clean through steel because it is folded over a thousand times, and is vastly superior to any other weapon on earth. I earned my sword license two years ago, and I have been getting better every day.

I speak Japanese fluently, both Kanji and the Osaka dialect, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about Japanese history and their bushido code, which I follow 100%

When I get my Japanese visa, I am moving to Tokyo to attend a prestigious High School to learn more about their magnificent culture. I hope I can become an animator for Studio Ghibli or a game designer for Square Enix!

I own several kimonos, which I wear around town. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to Japan, so I can fit in easier. I bow to my elders and seniors and speak Japanese as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond.

Wish me luck in Japan!

Kenichi Smith

Howdy /jp/, my name is Kenichi Smith.

I'm a 27 year old Japanese Toonaholic (Cartoon fan for you foreigners). I draw cartoons and comics on my tablet, and spend my days perfecting my art and playing superior American games. (Halo, Gears of War, Call of Duty)

I train with my revolver every day, this superior weapon can shoot straight through steel because it kicks ass, and is vastly superior to any other weapon on earth. I earned my gun license two years ago, and I have been getting better every day.

I speak English fluently, both the American and the British accents, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about American history and their Constitution, which I follow 100%

When I get my American visa, I am moving to New York to attend a prestigious High School to learn more about their magnificent culture. I hope I can become an animator for Nickelodeon or a game designer!

I own several cowboy outfits, which I wear around town. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to America, so I can fit in easier. I keep cool to my elders and seniors and speak English as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond.

Wish me luck in America!

Ivan Ivanov

Zdravstvuite, my name is Ivan Ivanov.

I'm a 27 year old American slavboo (russian fan for you amerikanski tovarishchi). I draw Putin memes on my tablet, and spend my days drinking Vodka and playing superior Russian games. (S.T.A.L.K.E.R., Metro 2033)

I train with my Avtomat Kalashnikova every day, this superior weapon can Pierce through steel because it is used over fifty years, and is vastly superior to any other weapon on earth. I earned my Avtomat license two years ago, and I have been getting better every day.

I speak Russian fluently, both Cyrillic and the Leningrad dialect, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about Russian history and their bydlo code, which I follow 100%

When I get my Russian visa, I am moving to Moskva to attend a prestigious High School to learn more about their magnificent culture. I hope I a conscript on ukraine front or a vodka drinker!

I own several tracksuits, which I wear around town. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to Russia, so I can fit in easier. I drink with my elders and seniors and speak Russian as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond.

Wish me luck in Russia!

Ken-sama against nature

The wind blows. It is 7 in the morning, Ken-sama woke up to the cold morning. He got up, and went to the bathroom to wash his face. Ken-sama live in a traditional Japanese house, he only rent a room though. The old couple is nice enough to let him stay in their house.

Ken-sama grepped his kimono and wear it like a proper nihonjin, he walk to a window and smell the fresh nihonjin morning. “Ah, konbanwa anatas. What beautiful morning desu.” Ken-sama zoned out looking at the beach from his room. Ken-sama went downstairs to greet the old couple. “Ah, ohayou ojisan and obasan”. The old couple replied him with a warm smile and proceed with their breakfast while inviting Ken-sama.

Although Ken-sama can not understand them, he easily could read what the old couple is trying to say, he is born with this talent. “Arigato.” Ken-sama said, he then went upstairs to take a few things. He took a bokken and a katana, the katana is hidden in his kimono and the bokken is on his obi, this is to avoid being arrested by authorities as he was warned last time. Ken-sama will be going on his usual morning walk to sightseeing the glorious nihonjin country. “Itadakimasu obasan and ojisan”, they gave him a mixed smile and a slightly confused expression.

Ken-sama reached the park near the beach, he like to watch kids playing as it is a something that can warm his pure heart. Suddenly, a sudden tremor. No, it’s more terrifying than that, it’s an earthquake, a huge one. The ground was shaking and beginning to crack, Ken-sama look at the children, they were running away terrified, “minna san! do not run around! Stay in place!”

The kids couldn’t understand what he was saying, he gestured what he was trying to say, he ordered the kids to stay in the middle of the park as it is too dangerous. But that was Ken-sama’s mistake, he look at the beach from afar. It was huge, a tsunami is coming. Ken-sama widened his eyes and look at the children and yelled every Japanese word he knew “Arigatou gozaimasu! Gomenasai! Run away minna-san!”

The children ran away, the wave is coming, it was at least 100ft tall. Ken-sama was ashamed with himself, he should have anticipated this, if he did the children would be far away by now. “sumimasen mina-san, it was my mistake”, he took his hidden katana and dual wield with the bokken and katana. As he ran towards the tsunami trying to stop it, he uttered his last words. “Arigatou obasan, ojisan. For taking care of me” The wave rise even higher. A shout is heard; “Nippon banzai!”.

After story

He opens his eyes.

His surroundings are a murky green, light enough to see the color, yet dark enough to have no idea as to my location. The warmth slowly creeps back into his arms, and the gentle caress of his surroundings begin to embrace him.

His pupils dilate. He is underwater. Rust clings to a nearby metal frame, and he seeks around to find its source. As he swims, his kimono flutters gracefully as if a deer were to silently frolic among the meadows in the Summer. The light becomes sharper, enough to make out the rusted metal frame of a set of swings. He gasps briefly as his memories come rushing back, like the very torrent of water that claimed him. Water floods into his mouth as he splutters, but then finds no difficulty breathing; He is quite comfortable underwater. Except for his memories.

He remembered the overcast day and the cold breeze of the morning wind beckoning him into wakefulness, the warm smiles of the elderly couple downstairs, warmly eating their breakfast. Looking back, he could feel the tension in the air. It was cloying, nature's destructive force, beautiful and deadly like that of a venomous spider spinning its silken web, only to devour the flesh of those that would seek its beauty.

He notices another structure some distance away, the rotting timber of a park bench where he once rested on a morning walk. His heart feels light, before it is torn to pieces.

Caught under the bench is a body. The corpse of a child, dressed in white with pastel yellows and pinks. She is missing one shoe, and her hair is buoyed in an unnatural manner by the murky green water. He chokes back a strangled sob as the green of the water, in his eyes, is tinged red by the fury that he now holds in his heart. He recalls the screams of the children as they fled, the girl he now sees not knowing what to do and staring up with an innocent fear at the looming wave, one sock pushed down and her pastel pink skirt muddied from playing on that cold morning.

He gives a whimper as warm tears course freely down his face, the memory of her yellow jumper being torn from her frail body as the waters enveloped her. Where the rush of the primordial water did not cut the peaceful air of the morning, the screams did. Her chestnut hair flailed wildly around as she was taken by nature, torn from the peaceful, happy life she once knew.

He splutters as his vision returns to normal, though he still holds the fury, burning in his heart. His will that of iron, he forces himself to the surface, overcoming the pain of movement, hellbent on the drive to hold his promise he made to the children when he set off to defend the peaceful shores of Japan against the tsunami.

A stone memorial stands at the edge of the water he pulls himself from. His body screams at him to stop, but he refuses to listen. He is fueled by a different material now. He observes the memorial, its writings etched in the ancient Japanese language, apart from one word at the bottom of a long list. He shuts his eyes before he can read it, knowing the pain of such a title is too much to bear.

Petals and offerings litter the ground, sometimes being carried off on the breeze to places unknown. A newspaper flies past, striking the monument and coming to rest as the wind dies down. He kneels to observe the front-page picture, a man with a silly hat a glass of beer embracing another man, a gaijin, with a large nose. The photograph is captioned 'ZUN と moot'.

His scream tears itself from his throat, the agony too much to bear. He takes one final glance at the September 28th newspaper before grasping his katana and bokken and charging over the waters, his movement too fast to disturb the silently violent force of nature.

"I knew it was you moot!" he shouts as the water kicks up around his sandled feet. "I'm coming for you and I will have my vengeance!"

Kobayashi Sushi

"I LOVE SUSHI!" exclaimed the woman in the thick-rimmed glasses.
"Ah, excellent," Kobayashi thought contentedly to himself, "they are enjoying themselves."
"I love Japan, period" said the middle-aged man in the blue shirt, slight southern drawl lending a down-home earthiness to his earnest proclamation.
"Oh my, it is such a joy to have such enthusiastic customers!" Kobayashi said to himself, beaming with pride at the delight he had brought to his customers. It was an idyllic day in Kobayashi's small sushi shop. But, then things took a turn for the worst. "J-ROCK!" screeched a greasy-haired delinquent, quite obviously high on something.
"Oh my, someone should be watching over that poor child," Kobayashi thought to himself. But, before he could finish that thought, a rotund man burst forth from the masses, the make-up on his face still smeared across his fleshy visage.
"GIRUGAMESH!" the horrifying painted man exclaims, stabbing the air vehemtly with two massive, pudgy digits.


"What has begun here is something terrible," Kobayashi thinks to himself, rooted in place by equal parts fear, and morbid fascination.
"I LOVE ANIME!" shrieks a curiously toupee'd customer, the disparity of voice and adornment calling into question the beast's gender. "AND MANGA" yells the man-lady's back-quatto, the horrifying extra upper torso protruding from the hermaphrodite's back, malign intent dancing across his/her eyes. Kobayashi is speechless at the spectacle unfolding before him.
"AND GAYMEN!" an infernal scarecrow man drunkenly spews forth, every diabolical syllable dripping from his tongue an affront to sanity and dignity.


"Uh...DDR?," says a man quite plainly.
"Finally, a respite from this madness," Kobayashi thought as he heaved a breathless sigh of relief. But what he had seen so far could never prepare him for what came next.
"SMILE D.K." squealed the man's bloated pig-wife, barely managing to stay balanced atop her chair.

As these things happened, a realization dawned on poor, poor Kobayashi. "These people, these DEMONS, have taken all I know and love and made it wrong, corrupted it. I can not, no, I will not sit idly by as these creatures from beyond the veil wreak havoc in my shop!"

"HEYYYYYY!" Kobayashi growls, brandishing his knife like a modern day warrior. "SAKURA-CON HE IKIMAAAAAAAAAASU" he bellows, the traditional war-cry of his family. As Kobayashi leapt over the table, the gathered masses began morphing, face tearing asunder to reveal rows upon rows of sharp teeth, as new musculature rippled forth from beneath their clothes. Many dropped to all fours, revealing their true bestial nature, snarling and snapping their jaws at Kobayashi. Like a true warrior, however, he dove fearlessly into the throes of battle, slicing sinew and bone alike with a precision afforded him by his years of chef training. He laughed maniacally as bucket upon bucket of blood was spilled, the organs and flesh of his former patrons spewing forth like water down a hill. He and his restaurant alike were soon strewn with every type of viscera, and he gave an animalistic howl to the still-rising moon.

Kobayashi goose-stepped over the knee-high pile of cadavers, and, having finally exited the restaurant, he wiped the blood clean from his cleaver and strode off into the horizon. He knew that he had honored his ancestors with this true act of bravery, and helped to rid the world of a grave evil indeed.

Really, Really Average

Finished Saya no Uta. And it was really, really average.

95% of the cast was completely unlike-able, the exceptions being Saya herself and Kouji. The plot wasn't all that good, though it did have it's moments. The resolution was either extremely stupid or doesn't resolve much at all, depending on which you take.

That said, I didn't hate it. It was interesting enough to keep me reading, but it never wowed me or made me experience any emotion at all, for that matter. The sad moments never effected me, and the 'intense' moments made me go meh. Everything is pretty much forgettable.

Can somebody explain me why people hyped it so much? Because there's absolutely nothing special about it.

Real Hero

Holy shit guys, I just figured out something big.

I think Japan was the REAL hero of WW2. I know everyone thinks they were bad and allied with the Nazis and everything, but look. I've watched a lot of anime, so I know that the Japanese are good people. I don't think they would knowingly ally themselves with a monster like Hitler. I think they saw what was going on, and knew that what Hitler was doing wasn't right, and wanted to end his reign of terror. They saw that the most powerful country at the time, the United States, wasn't doing anything about it, so they decided to bomb Pearl Harbor and get them involved. I mean, why else would they bomb Pearl Harbor?

They did all this at great expense- sacrificing many of their own people, but they knew that it couldn't be helped- Hitler NEEDED to be stopped.

The reason why they kept fighting after the Nazis were defeated was because they wanted to save face. The Japanese are a very proud people. Those responsible for organizing this heroic plan took the secret to their graves, but it's so obvious that that's what happened. I think it's time we honored the REAL heroes of WW2: JAPAN. Without them, WE'D ALL BE SPEAKING GERMAN RIGHT NOW!!!!

SUPERIOR

SUPERIOR.jpg

For 23 years and 11 months had I suffered them, the ignorant gaijin back home who sickened me with their microwaved culture and their materialism. The spindly losers in the anime club who cared only for anime and not a whit for the superior monoethnic culture to which it was endemic. Well no more. Fucking zettai no more. I touched down in the country I was certain I had lived all my previous lives, no doubt as a badass ronin samurai ninja or some shit. I had never been here, but I had returned.

Nippon-sama, tadaima!

No sooner had I left the airport when I saw the woman of my dreams. She confirmed my every hope, my every ideal of this great land. The light coming in through the sakura backlit her like a full body halo. She was made of demure and soft spoken. Of bowing and bento.

Of Japan and perfect.

My heart started doki doki-ing all over the shop. And then she saw me! Spotted me in the crowd! Well, of course she did, I was like a head taller than the fucking hobbits they call men around here. I was in no state of mind to meet her gaze, and tried to look away but I was paralysed. She was just so ... prettyu ...

And just like that she started walking over. Her walk was just pure concentrated sex. If you poured a glass of it sex fumes would just rise right off the top. I loved the way the light danced unevenly over her pristine porcelain skin as she walked. The way she did more for me by showing just her shoulders than any American girls could by showing their entire gaping cleavage for all the world to SEE THIS YOU SHOULD TAKE NOTES, THIS IS WHAT SEXY IS YOU FUCKING WHORES -

"おげようごります"。
Oh shit, what did she say? She said something! To me! But I wasn't con –
"おげんきですか"。
OK, OK, I know this one. Where have I heard it before? Naruto 43? Oh god she's so hot –
"わたしのなまえは かお です"。
Fuck, I couldn't find the right words. Was it oro? Was it dattebayo? Was it anata baka?!?
"おなまえはなんすか"。
You know what, it doesn't even matter! Her voice sounds as good as she looks. I don't need to say anything. I could do this forever. This is goddamn bliss.
"..."

She suddenly seemed apprehensive, like she was cautious of what she wanted to say next. Loveu loveu confession desu?!
"Yes, what is it?" I blurted out.
"OH HEY MAN YOU SPEAKING ENGLISH?"
"What?" What?
"OH YEAH YOU DOES HAY NICE I LIKE."
No. NO! This was not coming from her mouth. It couldn't be.
"OH HAY YOU FROM AMERICA I LIKE. SO COOL! FUCK!"
no no no no no no
"I LOVE ALL AMERICA MOVIE AND SERIE. OH HAY DO YOU WATCH FRIENDS YES. ROSS AND RACHEL. COOL!"
"Um ... pleasu speaku Japanesu."
"NO ENGLISH MUCH BETTER I LEARN MANY YEAR AND COLOUR HAIR TO LOOK LIKE HILLARY DUFF. SO CUTE! FUCK!"
"I CAN SPEAK JAPANESEU SO ONEGAI PLEASE SPEAK JAPANESE TO WATASHI!"
"MORE INTENSITY LOGER MOORE RIP MY STOCKINGS RIP MY STOCKINGS LOL"

Stones

Once, not too long ago, in a sleepy, forgotten island in a distant sea, there was a village. This village worshipped strange idols, disembodied heads of non-eulcidian geometry from which one could sometimes hear fearful sounds, cries both human and not, of distress, agony and rapture, and from which a mysterous eldritch power could be felt. A wind constantly flew from these idols, as if the air itself feared their presence and tried futilely to escape, a wind of madness that carried with it the minds of all men and women foolish enough to live near them in an unending frenzy of terror and madness. All of them, that is, except for a single old man, who spent his life sitting at the base of the idols, and laughed. At others, he laughed, as if their very existance was nothing but a joke. At all things, he laughed, as if there was nothing in this world but a gigantic farce. At himself, he laughed, as if his own existance was the punchline. Certainly he himself was mad, a madness so deep it developped into a deranged sanity none could understand.

There one day came a young man, full of knowledge and confidence, who came across the madman, and the madman's laughter grew stronger than it ever had. Nettled, the young man spoke.

"And what, pray tell, amuses you so? What do you see that I do not, that I know not? What could someone like you have to teach me?"

The old man's cachinnation only grew stronger. As the young man was about to dismiss him as a madman, he finally spoke, calming his guffaws.

"What could an old man like me have to teach you, indeed? A man such as you could not possibly learn anything from me, yet I will and I must try, for you will not understand."

"Then speak, elder, and I will keep an open mind."

And the old man laughed.

"Then listen, young ignorant, and know the truth of the universe, and of the infinite power of the Head Gods. At the top of the world stands the 9, the idiot savant who guides all things. None but the mad and the unthinking can understand this being, for its mind is unfathomable and inhuman. It, perhaps, does not even register than anything exists beyond its simple world. Acting as its messenger is the angel with a thousand eyes, who shifts all things on her wings of obsidian and leads all to death and insanity for her own amusement, and overlooking everything is the Devil of the infinite void, who does all and cares for none, for none of this world belongs to her."

The young man scoffed, dismissing all this as the insane ramblings of a madman. Yet the old man continued, never stopping, and the young man could not bring himself not to hear it, finding, to his horror, that the frail mocking voice of the old man was searing itself into his brain.

"Then who does this world belong to?" He found himself asking. Yet he had never as much as considered the thought. The old man laughed, and the young man saw in his eye a glint of desperate dementia, of something both human and beast, and something else.

"It belongs to The Thief, who holds the universe she stole away in her infinite, destructive love. And holding The Thief, supporting the mass of the universe on herself, is The Reimu, mistress of all and posessor of none. All respect her, and all love her, and all answer to her, and all fear her, for, you see, she holds the world on her head, over the infinite void."

"But then," the young man's voice asked, independantly of his trapped, terrified and dying soul, "what holds The Reimu?"

And the old man laughed.

"Oh, no... It's Reimus all the way!!"

And the wind blew. And the young man laughed. And the old man laughed.

And in the village, a young boy tore away at his laughing mother's womb with his bare hands, all the while chanting in a demented scream:
"'ri! 'ri! Yu'kuri shee'teh y't'enneh!"

Weeaboos

Becoming Japanese for real

200x

I hate weeaboos. I don't conisder myself a weeaboo, I'm actually Japanese for real, well almost. I will be when I live in Japan though. Right now I'm studying japanese, japanese history and I'm following Bushido, the way of the warrior. This is why I hate weeaboos that know 5 words in japanese and use them all the time, kawaai baka DESU NE MOTHERFUCKER. I'm actually trying to become Japanese for real unlike all these faker wees. FUCK YOU WEEABOOS

So my question is, how good are my chances of becoming Japanese for real?

Becoming Nigra for real

I hate niggers. I don't conisder myself a nigger, I'm actually black for real, well almost. I will be when I live in Oakland though. Right now I'm studying ebonics, robbery and I'm following Looting, the way of the nigra. This is why I hate niggers that know 5 gang signs and use them all the time, West side bloods ghettos motherFUCKERS. I'm actually trying to become black for real unlike all these faker nigras. FUCK YOU NIGGERS

So my question is, how good are my chances of becoming black for real?

Weeaboo Girl

Wow. Just wow.

One of my friends came over an hour ago and brought his new girlfriend with him.

She was decent looking (not fat or pasty or pimply or wearing a KAWAIILOL shirt) so I greeted her nicely and we all just hung out for a while, talking about this and that.

About thirty minutes after they arrived my two cats wandered into the living room and the girlfriend lets out this scary as hell shriek. At first I thought she was horribly allergic or something, but then she grabbed my friends arm and started babbling about how cute they were and that they'd make SUCH A PERFECT COUPLE IF THEY WERE CATPEOPLE IN HER MANGA and which one she'd make "uke" and "seme" (one is a big gray monster of a cat and the other is a sleek little brown spotty tabby). Well, she said more in a less intelligible way, but that's about what I got from her spiel.

She stopped babbling after a couple minutes and just looked at me, giggling. I stared back for a second and before I could stop myself I said "Get the fuck out." I didn't yell it or anything, but I sounded pretty cold.

The incident ended with her crying and my friend calling me an ass and storming out of my apartment, dragging her along behind him.

Should I be feeling bad right now?

Japan Fucking Sucks

This is something that I just posted on /a/. They told me to repost it here, and I thought it was worth a shot.

I live in Japan, and it fucking sucks. I made a thread about this a lonnnng time ago, but this bears repeating.

1. Anime and manga are more expensive in Japan. The prices are ridiculous, and it's hard for me to justify buying anime even though I feel it's important for fans to make an effort to support the industry.

2. If you are a girl, you will be groped and treated like shit. I have had men grab my ass in public *7* different times in the past year and a half. My Japanese friends say that women should just grit their teeth and bear it, since if you try to do something about it you will be publicly shamed. I also feel dirty and pathetic when these incidents occur.

3. Office culture in Japan is...intense. You are expected to show up at social gatherings even if you do not want to. And at these social gatherings people have the EXACT SAME CONVERSATIONS AGAIN AND AGAIN. I've had like 50 conversations on the power of beer to refresh you after a day's work. You have to say "good morning" every day in a very specific way, and if you don't then someone will approach you and tell you that's not how things are done at company XYZ.

4. The people treat gaijin like shit. Even the ones who try to be nice come across as condescending and rude by American standards. There are also a large number of Japanese men who think gaijin women are sluts and that they can get you to open your legs at the drop of a hat. Fuckers.

I wish all the Japanohiles could actually visit GLORIOUS NIPPON. They'd change their tune.

Anime

****

What the fuck, they are seriously fucked up. Good thing that I'm fucking watching ****** and I'm ******ing Gundam W or I'd be preety fucking pissed right ***, those motherfuckers. They think **** can fucking *** me to fuckIng ******** that pitagora ****** crap just to give me ***ing Naruto? No, fuck you ******. I'm not fucking ********ing that shit Just do your fucking **** and release the fucking *******. I mean, nobody ********* that fucking **** cause it has no fucking ********. There are no fucking **** for that fucking **** and these ***ers think they will make me ******** that stupid shit? ***** is no fucking hell in a fucking **** motherfucking moon, you fucking cock ****ing prick ****. Fuck this fucking shit, I'm getting ****** a fucking *** fucking episode even if I won't understand **** shit, better than ******* one fucking **** for the stupid episode. Dun ****** that I don't speak a **** of fucking Japanese. I will watch the stupid ******* and fucking ******** it again when it is fucking ******. Are you happy? Fuck you DB I'm ***** to ***** a nasty ****** in your ********. You know what? I don't **** a fucking shit you noobs if you fucking *** me. I'll just *** the damn episode from another ******* website. This is so fucking *******ing it really pisses me off. Damn Damn Damn Damn Damn Damn ***** our dattabayo for that nasty ****er in your feedback noobs.

4chan level otaku

I'm a 4chan level otaku. I don't talk with you chumps in anime club, I don't read your "anime magazine" with new releases I saw two years ago. I don't need to go to a club full of fat smelly people to watch Full Metal Alchemist all over again. I've got fuckin' live feed torrents of the newest animes you haven't even hear of, and figures from said anime being shipped to my house so I can masturbate on them. Go read your "yowie" on fanfiction.net, I'm downloading loli dojinshi and reading the fucking raws.
You keep wearing your naruto headbands and shit, socializing with your weeaboo friends. I'll be walking by, Anonymous. You'll never know that the master of anime had passed you by, because I suppress my power level.

2channel level otaku

You're a 4chan level otaku, you say? Hrmph. I am a 2channel level otaku, and you are as far beneath me as narutards are beneath you. Think you're pretty hot with your torrents? My satellite dish is pulling down the latest shows while they air from motherfucking SPACE. By the time you even see the OP I've already fapped and smoked a cigarette. And the latest moeblob you fell in love with this season? Three years ago I played the game the show's based, got the secret harem ending, and came on her face. And her friends' faces. All at the same time. Twice. You keep waiting for your precious torrents. I'll be standing in line at Comiket, getting the real deal from the artist himself.

gaia level otaku ^_^

I'm a Gaia level otaku ^_^. I don't have to watch my anime from the TV. I buy the newest DVDs the day they are released and go to my sugoi anime club to watch it with my cool friends. The hot new series that begins to air next month? I knew about it a month ago from my secret source and already talked with the guys about how kawaii the lead girl will be. Go read the first volume of Inuyasha, I already know all the places in the internet where I can read hot fanfics of my fav bishies.

You keep thinking anime characters speak English and shit, I'll be wearing my Naruto headband and learning to speak Japanese so I can move to Japan when I graduate from high school. ^_^

mangaka level otaku

You're a 2ch level otaku, you say? Hrmph. I am a mangaka level otaku, and you are as far beneath me as 4chan level otaku are beneath you. Think you're pretty hot with your bookstores? My pen is dishing out the latest stories while I think them up with my BRAIN. By the time you even crack the binding I've already signed a contract for the next one. And that h-game you played three years ago? I made my wife dress up as the lead and had sex with her for inspiration when I co-wrote it. I still have the manuscript for the bondage scene you'll never see. You keep waiting for your precious bookdealers. I'll be sitting in my studio apartment, making the real deal with my own hands.

corporate bureaucrat level otaku

You're a mangaka level otaku, you say? Hrmph, I am a corporate bureaucrat, and you're as far beneath me as 2channel level otaku are beneath you. Think you're pretty hot with your new volume? I'm the one who makes it popular with my propaganda and viral marketing. By the time you even pick up that pen I've already contracted a better author. And that h-game you made last year after dressing up your lovedoll for inspiration? I was fucking a girl more beautiful than you could ever even hope to talk to. I still have the new serialization contracts you'll never see. You keep writing your silly books. I'll be sitting in my mansion, counting up all the money you've made me.

politician level otaku

You're a corporate bureaucrat level otaku, you say? Hrmph, I am a politician, and you're as far beneath me as mangaka level otaku are beneath you. Think you're pretty hot with your viral marketing? I'm the one who makes it possible with my pork barrel spending and hedge funds. By the time you even call an author I've already secured subsidies for "the arts". And that girl you were fucking? I was fucking over more voters than you could ever even hope to talk to. I still have the new anti-abortion bill you'll never see. You keep counting your silly money. I'll be sitting in my office, assfucking my secretary.

patriot level otaku

You're a politician level otaku, you say? Hrmph, I am a Patriot, and you're as far beneath me as corporate bureaucrat level otaku are beneath you. Think you're pretty hot with your immense budgets and life-altering decisions? I'm the one who supplies you with that money and tells you to make those decisions. By the time you even pass a bill, I've already set up your assassination and determined your successor. And those voters you brag about fucking? I own all their lives down to the menial details, including their fucking a politician. I still have the the metal gears and the philosopher's legacy you will never see. You keep making your choices and running your sham of a nation. I'll be sitting at my desk, creating nonsensical plot twists from the shadows.

snake level otaku

You're a Patriot level otaku, you say? Hrmph, I am Snake, and you're as far beneath me as politician level otaku are beneath you. Think you're pretty hot with your la-li-lu-le-lo? I'm the one foils your evil plans with precision and manliness. By the time you even build a metal gear, I've already destroyed it AND the bad guys with nonsensical yet surprisingly awesome special powers protecting it. And that country you always brag about running from the shadows? I'm making it a better place by wiping the likes of you off the face of the earth. You just keep your little philosophers legacy. I'll be on this plane, ready to stop you at a moments notice.

colonel level otaku

You're a Snake level otaku, you say? Hrmph, I am the Colonel, and you're as far beneath me as Patriot level otaku are beneath you. Think you're pretty hot with your precision and manliness? I'm the one who gives you the orders in the first place. By the time you even find the base's entrance, I've already had my team of spies locate everything inside it. And that country you always think you're protecting? I've got enough secret agendas and classified information to make your head explode. You just keep destroying your silly metal gears. I'll be inside this Arsenal Gear, mailing your fissions with I NEED SCISSORS! 61!

Anime is not for nerds

Hai there

For nerds? Well excuse me... Some people grew up with it and is part of there culture aka asians. Also its a good thing to do when ur bored. + your list of anime is prob less thn 0.001% of whats actually on the market. Not all anime are or children and nerds there are large varietys targeted at different groups.

Also teen titans is not really anime tho drawn in a very similar/same style as anime. There are certain rules it does not follow making it a cross breed

And yes i am awfully offended at your steriotyping.

Thankyou. P.s. and no animes not just about hentai... Add more variety to your gallery...

Omg hai

Omg hai ^___^ I’m Ai-san and I absolutely luuuv @_____@ anime <3 and my fav is naurto!!! Okies so anyways, im going to tell you about the BEST day of my life when I met my hot husband sasuke!! <333333333 OMFGZ HE WAS SOOOOO FREAKIN KAWAII IN PERSON!!! Supa kawaii desu!!!!!!!! ^______________________________________^

When I walked onto Tokyo street =^____^=I looked up and saw…SASUKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <33333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333!!!! “ KONNICHIWA OMGZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ SUPA SUPA SUPA KAWAII SASUKE-SAMA!!!!!” I yelled n____n then he turned chibi then un-chibi!! he looked at me [O.O;;;;;;;;;;;] and then he saw how hot I am *___* he grabbed my hand and winked ~_^ then pulled me behind a pocky shop o_o and started to kiss me!!!!!! [OMG!!! HIS TOUNGE TASTED LIKE RAMEN!!! RLY!! >.> <.< >.< *(^O^)* *(^O^)* *(^O^)*] then I saw some baka fat bitch watching us and I could tell she was undressing him with her eyes!!!!!!! [ -_____________-;;;;; OMG I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT EITHER!!! (ò_ó) (ò_ó) (ò_ó)] so I yelled “UH UH BAKA NEKO THAT’S MY MAN WHY DON’T YOU GO HOOK UP WITH NARUTO CAUSE SASUKE-SAMA LOVES ME!!! (ò_ó)” then sasuke held me close =^____^= and said he would only ever love me and kissed me again!!!!!!! ** (*O*)/ then we went to his apartment and banged all night long and made 42 babies and they all became ninjas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nyaaaaa!!! (^________<) ^_________________^;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Asa

I'M GONNA DIE IF I DON'T USE MAGIC, AND EVERYONE WANTS ME TO USE MAGIC SO I DON'T DIE, BUT I WON'T USE MAGIC BECAUSE I'M HUMAN, EVEN THOUGH I'M NOT HUMAN, AND EVERYONE KNOWS I'M NOT HUMAN, BUT I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT I'M HUMAN, SO THAT I CAN BE HUMAN AROUND EVERYONE, EVEN THOUGH THEY DON'T CARE THAT I'M NOT HUMAN, SO I'LL JUST DIE LIKE A FUCKING RETARD RIGHT HERE OK?

OMG, MY BOYFRIEND TRIED TO KILL HIMSELF SO I SAVE HIM BY USING MAGIC, EVEN THOUGH I DIDN'T WANT TO USE MAGIC, BECAUSE I WANTED TO BE HUMAN, EVEN THOUGH I'M NOT HUMAN, AND HE KNOWS THAT I'M NOT HUMAN, AND HE DOESN'T CARE THAT I'M NOT HUMAN, SO THEREFORE HE KILLS HIMSELF TO MAKE ME NOT HUMAN EVEN WHEN I BELIEVE THAT I AM HUMAN, AND I DON'T WANT TO BE NOT HUMAN, AND SO THAT I CAN JUST DIE LIKE A RETARD, JUST LIKE HE JUST DID BUT HE'S OK BECAUSE I'M NOT HUMAN, AND HE STILL LOVES ME SO I'LL JUST GO SUCK HIM OFF NOW AFTER MY MUCH-HOTTER-THAN-ME MOM GIVES ME A HAIR CUT WHICH MAKES ME LESS ATTRACTIVE

Bartender

Bartender actually DID drive me to drink. On a recent expedetion I made to a nearby town, my friends and I landed in a hotel with a bar that actually didn't have anyone manning it. There was an attendant at the front desk but he was really cool and read a book while we scrwed off near the bar.

There was a bucket full of ice, with three wines situated in it; merlot, pinot noir, and a chardonnay. I sipped the chardonnay first-it was my first experience with alcohol-and boy did I have a rush! I'm familiar with the smell of alcohol since I use isopropyl so much in my cleaning, but to actually drink simmilar stuff without fear of dying was quite an experience.

The wine itself tasted bitter and I couldn't finish my glass; I tried the merlot next but I actually spat it out onto my friend's jacket in surprise; it was at room temperature. Following this, I went to the bar and noticed on tap there was a handle that said "Budweiser" and "Budweiser Lite"; I took a glass from the nearby shelves and tapped a glass.

Beer has a very musky taste in comparison to wine; the sweet juices that get converted into alcohol are grains for beer, and the "scent" of yeast can still be detected in the drink. I myself found it strange; the sensation was sort of like drinking bread water, which reminded me strongly of the connection Sasakura Ryuu once had with his former life as Kazuma Azuma; with beer, Ryuu is not just mixing a drink to soothe the sorry soul, he is also molding bread. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

I moved away from the beer and tried the last drink I had not tasted; the pinot noir. The flavour! It reminded me of freshy squeezed grapes from the vines growing on my neighbors tree that I used to drink juice from in my younger days, only with a mature taste worthy of the gods.

In that moment, I truely realized that although there was no person at the bar to make it tender, kindness was still born.

I wouldn't have given up that experience for the world.

Best Anime Ever

The best anime ever, without any doubt, is Neon Genesis Evangelion. Not only is the plot amazing, it delivers important themes about society and has a lot of symbols about religion. Pisses me off that people don't understand how beautiful this anime is and I just want to punch them in the face.

Dancing Anime

Yes I'm talking that anime The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. It fucking sucks. Now it's pretty popular among the anime circles, and yet this poor excuse for an animated feature is the worst thing ever produced by a human being if you except Plan 9 from Outer Space, and I'm being generous.

First you gotta admit you hated the first episode. It made no sense, sucked as shit, wasn't funny, edgy or new. Or original. Animation sucked dead dogs' balls. Characters sucked dead dogs' balls. Voice actiong sucked dead dogs' balls. But you managed to make it through the whole pile of steaming poo just to see the ED. BEcause that's what this anime is about. It's about the ED. Those 1 minute and a half. There's nothing else to it. You went like "OMG ANIMATION LIEK" you freaking retards and now everyone likes it. Yet it's shit. It's complete shit with no redeeming qualities. There's fucking nothing to it. Just the dance at the end. It's a dancing anime. A fucking retarded danxcing anime with no story and nothing and no characters it sucks. You shouldn't like it you morons seriously. Just download the ED and loop it on your WMP you cockass faggot asses. DAMN I wish all those threads about HARUHI OMG YEAH would go one and everyone in them die FUCK YOU for polluting my forums HARUHI FUCK YOU.

AND NO IT 'S NOT A COPY PASTA I'VE JUST TYPED THIS WHOLE THING.

FUCK YOU

desu

Desu.jpg

"Does master want Suiseiseki to give him a footrub-desu?" she purred.
"No thank you," I said. "I'm rather tired. You should retire to your box."
"But master-sama, Suiseiseki doesn't like her box-desu! I want to sleep in master-sama's bed-desu!"
"Not tonight. You'll do as you're told."
"Why doesn't master-sama have real girls in his bed?"
"What?!"
"Is master-sama's penis too small for real girls?"
"Why aren't you saying desu?"
"Does he have to use dolls instead?"
"SAY DESU! SUISEISEKI FINISHES HER SENTENCES WITH DESU!"
"Master-sama showed Suiseiseki his penis once."
"DESU! MASTER-SAMA SHOWED SUISEISEKI HIS PENIS ONCE DESU!"
"It was too small even for dolls."
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! YOU'RE NOT SUISEISEKI!"

With my right hand I snatched a pair of scissors from my desk and mashed them continually into her face. Her little body was smashed into kindling but I did not stop. Until her screams began to sound a bit like my voice, and I remembered that dolls did not scream, and they did not bleed. Suddenly there was feeling in my left hand for the first time in weeks. I lifted it out of the doll's wreckage, covered in splinters and dripping from scissored wounds. How long had my hand been inside there? How long had I been inside here, alone in my one-room apartment, talking to myself, going mad?

The bolt scraped rust from the latch as I stepped outside. My eyes hurt, god the horizon ... it was a deal larger than 19 inches diagonally. But after five steps my breath quickened and my chest tightened and I turned back. Enough for today. Tomorrow I would try for six. A distant memory told me that when I reached two hundred and eighty, I would make it to the bus stop. And then I'd be free of this apartment, of this prison. And then there'd be nowhere in the world I couldn't go.

Least of all the refunds counter at Moemart in Akihabara. For fuck's sake. Suiseiseki finishes her sentences with desu.

Doing Louise

I would only utilize my penis as a psuedo tea cosy, bare with me if you will, the mental thought sounds somewhat disgusting but bare with me fellow anonymice.
Indeed, I would J-J-Jam it in! But I wouldn't be able to bring myself to move my hips at all, no, I would only tease Louise slightly, stroking her cheeks untill her already redend cheeks begin to glow with embarssement and joy. With my other hand I'm already reaching down her tiny, slender frame, reaching her twitching Vagoo and gently rubbing away untill she whimpers underneath me.

Then as Saito turns round the corner I acknoweldge the better man.
I have kept the wench warm for you, sire.
I will say, acknoweldging my duties were only to keep Louise real for a real man, a man with a slap that would rival Bright Noa (RIP old friend, RIP). I would watch, pOnOs aching to be with them, screaming out words of encouragement attempting to meld mine into their own.

If I were lucky, Saito would lift her thighs up giving me a full show, and knowing Saito's new found GARness, he would offer to me her rear access port to dock in, as a thank you for reving up the Jail Bait's engines for him.

Saito is a real man! *Tear of joy*

End of Evangelion

>>493771 the end of eva sucked so much i mwan they set up a badass show down sinje (i know that his name is misspelled) power dubled from the loss of misote and ascoka Vs 9 or so M.P.E. hat come back after you kill them but no they star the 3rd inpact ever bady dies and then senjie and askuke came back and the little dicj head tres to kill the hatest gril in the show what the fuck man

fateth stayeth nighteth

Sabereth.jpg

"Art thou my master?"
"Dayummm girl, ain't seen many like you round Compton. That's some nice hair and shit, that a weave?"
"Zounds, thou art a Nubian! How came you from the dark continent?"
"Say what? Look atchoo, talkin' all like Shakeanbake and shit. That's coo', that's coo'. I hear that."
"This land be twixt foul and fair, who buildeth towers to peak through the blanket of clouds, yet the streets below Nubians unyolk'd runneth over."
"Aiiight, aiiight, I can tell you ain't from round here. You want me to show you round or somfin'? Me an my boys –"
"I'll away to find my master, only heeding his say shalt mine confusion repurpose."
"Aiyo, you leavin' already? Come on baby, come here ..."
"Hold! Hold! Fly from here, your bound's o'erstepped. Your eyes shall see not my keen blade afore it calls you to account."
"What is that, a sword? Aw come on baby, put it down fore you hurt choself ..."
"Fie! Away!"
"I ain't gon' do nothing you don't want me to ... let's get all this armor offa you, shorty."
"I bid you stay thine huge lips ..."
"Don't choo like this? I think you like this ..."
"Forsooth ..."
"Aww yeahhh ..."
"HARK! What pain through yonder hymen breaks?"
"Damn, you tight as hay-ell, bitch! This some tight-ass pussy!"
"OUT, DAMNED COCK; OUT, I SAY!"
"Uh! Yeah! Yeah! Ugh!"
"O, thine lance be long ..."
"Uh! Uh! Uh!
"O Nubian! Nubian!"
"YOU LIKE THIS? YOU LIKE THIS? GRAGGHHHH"
"PUMP ME FULL O' THE MILK OF HUMAN KINDNESS"
"DAYYYYYYYYYUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMM"

exeunt

FUCK YOU, NARU

YOU KNOW WHAT NARU? FUCK YOU! YEAH THAT'S RIGHT, YOU GOD DAMNED WHORE, I SAID IT! IT'S CUNTS LIKE YOU WHO MAKE GUYS LIKE KEITARO THE WAY HE IS, A COMPLETE AND UTTER FUCKING PUSSY! I CAN'T STAND ANIME GIRLS LIKE YOU! A GUY COMES UP AND SHOWS INTEREST IN YOU AND YOU JUST BRUSH HIM OFF BECAUSE YOU THINK HE'S BEING PERVERTED AND THEN WHEN HE GOES OFF TO START A CONVERSATION WITH SOMEONE ELSE AND YOU GET ALL OFFENDED AND DEFENSIVE THINKING "WHY IS HE TALKING TO HER?" AND THEN YOU AIM THAT JEALOUSY MORE AT KEITARO AND YOU CONFUSE HIM EVEN MORE! GODDAMN YOU NARU, AND IF THAT DOESN'T MAKE THINGS WORSE KEITARO HAS GENUINE ACCIDENTS THAT END UP IN HILARIOUS SITUATIONS AND YOU FUCKING BUTT IN AND PUNCH HIM OR GIVE HIM SOME UNDUE SHIT. I KNOW YOU MARRIED HIM AT THE END OF THE SERIES BUT I HOPE KEITARO WAKES UP ONE DAY FUCKING TIRED OF YOUR BULLSHIT AND LEAVES YOUR BITCH ASS HAVING TO TURN TRICKS TO PAY OFF STUDENT LOANS AT TOKYO U WHILE HE’S RUN OFF HAVING A THREESOME WITH MUTSUMI AND KANAKO, AND HELL I BET ADULT KAOLLA AND FUCKING SHINOBU WILL BE THERE SINCE YOU KEPT FUCKING UP THEIR CHANCES WITH KEITARO. HAVE FUN GIVING HAND JOBS BEHIND THE JAPANESE 7-11 DURING THE DAY AND CRYING YOURSELF TO SLEEP AT NIGHT KNOWING THAT THE ONE TRUE MAN YOU EVER LOVED, OR FOR THAT MATTER EVER TRULY LOVED YOU NO MATTER HOW SHORT A TIME IT WAS, IS GONE AND YOU WILL DIE ALONE! AND WHEN DEATH COMES BREATHING DOWN YOUR FUCKING NECK, YOU CUM GUZZLING DUMPSTER WHORE, I HOPE THE GRIM REAPER TAKES YOU SCREAMING AND PLEADING TO THE VERY DARKEST BLACKEST DEPTHS OF THE HELL YOU CREATED FOR YOURSELF AND YOU SAMPLE THE TORMENT YOU PUT KEITARO THROUGH FOR ALL ETERNITY!

FUCK YOU, OROCHIMARU

YOU KNOW WHAT OROCHIMARU? FUCK YOU! YEAH THAT'S RIGHT, YOU GOD DAMNED WHORE, I SAID IT! IT'S SLUTS LIKE YOU WHO MAKE GUYS LIKE SASUKE THE WAY HE IS, A COMPLETE AND UTTER FUCKING PUSSY! I CAN'T STAND ANIME GUYS LIKE YOU! A GUY COMES UP AND SHOWS INTEREST IN YOU AND YOU JUST BRUSH HIM OFF BECAUSE YOU THINK HE'S BEING PERVERTED AND THEN WHEN HE GOES OFF TO START A CONVERSATION WITH SOMEONE ELSE AND YOU GET ALL OFFENDED AND DEFENSIVE THINKING "WHY IS HE TALKING TO HIM?" AND THEN YOU AIM THAT JEALOUSY MORE AT NARUTO AND YOU CONFUSE HIM EVEN MORE! GODDAMN YOU OROCHIMARU, AND IF THAT DOESN'T MAKE THINGS WORSE SASUKE HAS GENUINE ACCIDENTS THAT END UP IN HILARIOUS SITUATIONS AND YOU FUCKING BUTT IN AND PUNCH HIM OR GIVE HIM SOME UNDUE SHIT. I KNOW YOU TURNED HIM AGAINST EVERYONE AT THE END OF THE SERIES BUT I HOPE SASUKE WAKES UP ONE DAY FUCKING TIRED OF YOUR BULLSIT AND LEAVES YOUR WHORE ASS HAVING TO TURN TRICKS TO PAY OFF ITACHI AT THE OTHER HIDDEN VILLAGES WHILE HE’S RUN OFF HAVING A THREESOME WITH SAKURA AND INO, AND HELL I BET ADULT HINATA AND FUCKING KIBA WILL BE THERE SINCE YOU KEPT FUCKING UP THEIR CHANCES WITH TEMARI. HAVE FUN GIVING HAND JOBS BEHIND THE VILLAGE OF THE HIDDEN LEAVES DURING THE DAY AND CRYING YOURSELF TO SLEEP AT NIGHT KNOWING THAT THE ONE TRUE MAN YOU EVER LOVED, OR FOR THAT MATTER EVER TRULY LOVED YOU NO MATTER HOW SHORT A TIME IT WAS, IS GONE AND YOU WILL DIE ALONE! AND WHEN DEATH COMES BREATHING DOWN YOUR FUCKING NECK, YOU DUMPSTER WHORE, I HOPE THE GRIM REAPER TAKES YOU SCREAMING AND PLEADING TO THE VERY DARKEST BLACKEST DEPTHS OF THE HELL YOU CREATED FOR YOURSELF AND YOU SAMPLE THE TORMENT YOU PUT SASUKE THROUGH FOR ALL ETERNITY!

Gundam Wing

I think the really amazing thing about Gundam Wing is its philosophical overtones. I've talked for hours with my friends about what Heero and Treize's conversation on the meaning of war (episodes 36-38) really MEANS about WAR, and we've gotten to thinking that maybe, just maybe, it's not about war at all.

Gundam Wing makes us think on such high levels that sometimes I orgasm spontaneously when discussing it. It's miles from that ridiculous Tomino super robot trash, it makes Ideon look like a goddamned Playmobil fire engine. Fucking Ide Gauge. The Zero System is about life, man. That's as real as it gets. It's about your MIND and your SOUL.

I wish I had pretty, long hair like Zechs-chan. That Charles is such a pale imitation.

Haruhi f'tagn

Many of these seemingly innocent comedy animu have absolutely horrifying "why don't they all just kill themselves" nightmare scenarios as their basic setups (like Rozen Maiden and its super-powered parasite dolls that are free to abuse their helpless "owners" any which way they want), but Haruhi takes the cake. Just think about it - the characters and the reality they live in are permanently subject to the brain-damaged, ADD-ridden whims of the female equivalent of Calvin from Calvin & Hobbes. Even death won't save them.

Haruhi is a fucking lovecraftian horror story of Things that Should Not Be and it baffles me how they try to play it as a comedy.

Haruhi can *erase and rewrite history just by changing her mind*. Basically, nothing other than her matters in the slightest. If anything, the fact that she doesn't know it herself only makes it worse. If she DID know, she might at least make an effort to not change things willy-nilly.

She's like Azathoth, omnipotent and insane, only she's right here right now instead of at the other end of the universe. I'm fairly sure the only reason all the characters who know about her don't go insane out of the sheer horror of how everything that exists and has ever existed is the plaything of a dumbshit highschooler with the responsibility of Patrick Bateman and the attention span of a gnat is because she doesn't *think* they should go insane.

Hei will die

Hei will die.

But his soul will chose to go back in time, the the time when he was happiest, and he will be at season 1 first episode.

Suou who loves Hei want to be with him too and want to be in a time when Hei'd love her, but since he already loves Yin she'll go back in time before Hei is born, and became his mother.

I'm in love with Osaka

Dear /b/:
I, like many of you, suffer from problems. My problems don't involve any of your implausible ones, but mine are worth voicing to you in hope of getting some advice.
Anyways, I began to watch Azumanga Daioh about a month ago, and as I dove deeper and deeper into the series, the more and more I fapped to hentai of it. I continued to do so until the last episode.
Then I watched the series again...and again... and again... I found myself checking out Osaka every on-screen moment she had. I began to stop going to my regular sites just to look at hentai of one person: Osaka.
I eventually had 1000s of pictures and some doujins of Osaka. I began to spend what others called absurd amounts of money on merchandise, and my apartment is coated with Osaka everywhere. I've shut myself off from family and friends and felt an urge to just snuggle with my Osaka dolls. Osaka is all I need. She probably wouldn't like the way my family is or how my friends behave.
I'm in love with Osaka. I keep praying that she'll come to see me one day and decide to live with me. I have nothing left to live for but Osaka. I know she can hear me, so I always talk to her telling her to come and visit me so our union can take place.
So this is where you guys come into the picture. You're an all-purpose advice board. You definitely must know a way to help Osaka break free from behind her glass prison.

I'm in love with Suigintou

Rozen Maiden has ruined my life, like it has done to so many others.

Less than a week ago, I thought the premise of the show was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. Suiseiseki was just a meme, and I didn't even know any other characters. But then I watched the first episode. And then the second. And couldn't stop until I was done with Traumend. That was four days ago. By then, I was hopelessly entangled. I was in love with the show and the dolls. I started daydreaming that I was a member of the show's cast, or that I had a Rozen Maiden of my own. I suddenly had a craving for tea, so I went out and bought some, and it's all I've been drinking these past few days. And then it got even worse. Two days ago, I watched Overture. Now, I'm hopelessly in love with Suigintou. All I want from life is to be able to hold Suigintou and be able to cheer her up, make her happy again, so I can see her smile again. I fantasize about her becoming human, so I can go out with her, make sweet, sweet, love to her, and marry her and have a happy life with my dear Suigintou. The show's given me other side effects, too, which keep getting worse. Whenever I see porn or hentai now, all I can think is "no dolljoints, not hot." All I can fap to is Suigintou doujins. I see Shinku's face and get in a bloodcurdling rage like I've never felt before. She made my Suigintou cry! I've stopped caring about my car, which for years was everything to me. I've stopped caring about what I eat, except for a craving for Flowery Hamburger. I don't care about any other anime, manga, or any video games. My only realistic desire right now is for an accurate Suigintou doll that I can cuddle while I sleep. I get jealous when I see anyone talk about her or post her picture, and pissed off when I hear the word junk.

Come to me, Suigintou! I'll love you, let me make you happy! You're not junk, let me give you my devotion and love and you'll see that you don't need to be so sad!

I'm crying as I type this.

LOL! Holy fuck dude.

LOL! Holy fuck dude. Simmer the hell down. It's DRAGON BALL! Think about that before you open your mouth and make yourself look like the saddest piece of shit I've seen all day. I know NOTHING about you except that you're worthless and have no life IE. time to check these things out and care. Hope you're proud of yourself. I really do. I sincerely hope for a SPLIT second you feel better about yourself because you downloaded and rummaged through all the episodes of Dragonball Z in fucking JAPANESE just to point out he said it was a thousand points less. Like that was going to blow the fucking CONTINUITY out of the water and blow our FUCKING minds somehow. Being that Dragonball Z is known for it's sharp and detective like continuity. Broly. Even the fucking CREATOR said fuck this and LEFT....but you...no YOU sat down and figured this out and now you look SO brilliant in front of us. Man....is my face red. I'm so ashamed of myself for not being a big fucking loser who has to spend my time nitpicking a fucking KIDS cartoon (even in Japan it's for CHILDREN you weeaboo piece of shit) like you. Nice work

Lucky Star

Lucky Star. What are you faggots, stupid?

Lucky Star at least has original characters. What does Azumanga have? Oh yeah, shitty generic copycats...Of TMoHS no less. Considering Lucky Star is better than TMoHS, I think you can see my point.

Sakaki? Oh wow. She's quiet. Enjoy your fucking Yuki Nagato rip off.

Chiyo? ZOMG smart person. Another Yuki Nagato rip off. They couldn't even handle the GARness of Yuki and so they had to split her up into those two characters.

Tomo? Blatant Haruhi rip off. Wow, she acts spastic? Yeah, Haruhi did it ten times better.

Yomi? Fat chick. She's just a cop off of Mikuru.

Osaka? Mascot character. Spacy and contemplative, but she doesn't even measure up to the awesomeness that is Tsuruya. Tsuruya is the embodiment of intellectual stimulation. Nice try Osaka, can't touch that though.

Kagura? Athletic girl. Unfortunately for Azumanga Nooboh, TMoHS already had the athletic girl first. Her name is Asakura and she's fucking hot.

I thought this was obvious, but some idiots chose Azumanga. Nice going nooblets. Goback2/gaia.

Marimite

ITT we discuss Marimite, the new OVA, and why the series as a whole is so awesome.

AKA ITT A series about an all girl's Catholic high school and the relations among several of aforementioned school's students, who are almost always seen in their rather chaste school uniforms which consist of long skirts, which do not even show knee, and a sailor collar in which collar bone visibility is impossible, who when even seen out of these unrevealing outfits the extent of skin seen is shoulders, arms, elbows, necks, and ankles, and the possibility that some of these relationships may or may not have a thin, hidden layer of lesbian subtext, although said subtext is never manifested in any physical way besides hugging and hand holding, except for a limited occurrence in a flashback, which is blurred, and may not actually refer to a physical event, but may be employing a metaphorical image to represent a relationship, and how we justify our affinity for said series through ironic statements which attempt to avoid the idea that the affinity for such a series would nullify large amounts of masculinity simply using a "distraction" technique, which generally works until one actually thinks about what they are saying, which may or may not lend itself to Jungian or Freudian analysis.

MURDER

/b/, I seek your wisdom.

I'm in anime club at my college (I'll avoid saying which to avoid someone finding out who this is), and it was a weekly meeting as to what we wanted to watch on Thursday, our next club meeting. Being the otaku that I am, I suggest that we watch The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi. The whole club doesn't know what I'm talking about and goes on to talk about some stupid shit like Brain Powerd and Gunslinger Girl. I was enraged that they wouldn't even consider, if I may say so, the greatest anime of the past millennium, so I threw a punch at one of them and broke their glasses. I wanted Haruhi, and they wouldn't fucking show it. It serves him right; he smelled bad and always misused Japanese words. I was born in Japan and lived there until I was two, and here this fat fuck is spouting out horrible Japanese. I was pissed.

After I punched him, he looked as if he was going to cry. Serves him right. He fought back, and I think he fucking broke my nose in the process. What gave him the right to do that? Being too enraged to care, I attacked back and grabbed his neck tightly. I strangled him and drained every inch of life out of him. When I finished shaking him, I noticed he was dead. I panicked, locked the door, closed the windows, put up the blinds, and turned off the lights in the room.

So here I am, in the clubroom, after hours. I just recently covered from the shock, and I decided to post here because I'm frightened. What should I do? HELP!

(I couldn't find a really relevant image on Google image search so I'm using this, since my [former] club president's laptop which I'm using only has a bunch of xxxHOLiC hentai.)

Mother Suiseiseki

Mother Suiseiseki.jpg

Mother Suiseiseki loves us, she loves me and you and everybody, and through the teachings of her sacred word we will live in harmony and oneness, and ascend into a state of pure anonymity ~desu

When we are all the same mind and spirit~

~desu, the sacred sound, so that it may resonate within us and flow out to touch the ethereal beyond ~desu

the sacred vibration, resonates with the great fiery waters beyond the universe, and touches god

~desu appears embraced in a beautiful chorus of vibration

Mother Suiseiseki is in all things, in all places. You can not imprison her any more than you could cage the wind ~desu.

Suiseiseki cultivates the possibility, ever so gently pulling it from the one all, so that it is allowed to manifest ~desu.

It is through these manifestations of temporary individuality that the spirit energy is made to grow before returning to the great nothing ~desu.

Suiseiseki is all things, and thus the evil is also required~ But it is always the way, that the evil do not know they are only aiding in cosmic unity, because they are driven by selfishness and hate. While the good, know that the evil is also a part of the all. Which is what allows them to be full of love for all things ~desu.

Its in this way, that suiseiseki can favor only one, because where love is given it is got, and hatred breeds death. The duality extends to all depths, even into the heart of suiseiseki herself. So that she needs not give equal favor to each side, even though each is equal in the universe ~desu.

This is the difference between the mind and the spirit, the mind knows not the spirit, the spirit knows not at all, but drives all things ~desu.

Mother Suiseiseki loves us, she loves me and you and everybody, and through the teachings of her sacred word we will live in harmony and oneness, and ascend into a state of pure anonymity ~desu

When we are all the same mind and spirit~

~desu, the sacred sound, so that it may resonate within us and flow out to touch the ethereal beyond ~desu

the sacred vibration, resonates with the great fiery waters beyond the universe, and touches god

~desu appears embraced in a beautiful chorus of vibration

Mother Suiseiseki is in all things, in all places. You can not imprison her any more than you could cage the wind ~desu.

Suiseiseki cultivates the possibility, ever so gently pulling it from the one all, so that it is allowed to manifest ~desu.

It is through these manifestations of temporary individuality that the spirit energy is made to grow before returning to the great nothing ~desu.

Suiseiseki is all things, and thus the evil is also required~ But it is always the way, that the evil do not know they are only aiding in cosmic unity, because they are driven by selfishness and hate. While the good, know that the evil is also a part of the all. Which is what allows them to be full of love for all things ~desu.

Its in this way, that suiseiseki can favor only one, because where love is given it is got, and hatred breeds death. The duality extends to all depths, even into the heart of suiseiseki herself. So that she needs not give equal favor to each side, even though each is equal in the universe ~desu.

This is the difference between the mind and the spirit, the mind knows not the spirit, the spirit knows not at all, but drives all things ~desu.

My girlfriend..

My girlfriend is cute and smart and she's an anime faggot like me

The other night she and I were cuddling in bed and she started humping me and whispering "oniichan oniichan" and that turned me the fuck on

so I called her "oneechan" and then she stopped and looked at me and I said "what is it" to which she replied "I always wanted a twin brother so we could fuck all the time" (she's an only child and all I have is a younger brother)

so all night long we were humping and calling each other oniichan and oneechan and I came in my underwear and we were pretending we were brother and sister trying to sexually please each other without having sex and it was fucking hot

SO YEAH, I like anime

The first anime I ever saw was "Revolutionary Girl Utena" the movie. I was attracted to it because it was bizarre and new. It hit me at a vulnerable time; my father and mother had just been murdered. I became obsessed with the "emptiness inside" theme of the movie, and felt that this related to my life somehow. I watched Evangelion next, and absolutely loved the depressing feeling both of these shows left me with. I am a person who loves depressions; I feel that I am at my most creative and "raw" when utterly depressed. The empty feeling these shows gave me filled me with emotions I wanted to recapture.

Like an addict seeking another hit, I kept downloading more and more programs, watching tons of shows. At one point, I had two shoeboxes full of CD-r's packed with Anime programs. I had a library of just about every show ever made. I became obsessive, but I wasn't finding that feeling that was originally there. Sure, I could recapture it with great stuff like Serial Experiments: Lain and Millenium actress, but that was only for a moment.

Eventually, I stopped watching the shows I was downloading, but just grabbed them for the sake of having them. I had to have more. I bought DVD's and didn't watch them. Gradually, over time, I felt my aesthetic become warped. What once was strange and bizarre looking character design became familiar; I sought it out. If I caught a glimpse of an anime style character in real life, I felt a rush; almost as if my hindbrain saw it before I was aware of it. I was visiting a Japanese tea Garden and saw real life schoolgirls in the familiar navy blue fuku uniforms. I was fascinated by them; I was drawn, attracted, but not in a sexual way; it blew my mind to see something in real life that I had before seen only in the abstract.

A familiar feeling came through me when I saw them. I felt the same at that moment as when I had first seen Utena, when I had first finished Evangelion. My obsession took a new direction.

I bought several sailor fuku uniforms from online retailers. J-list was too expensive and didn't sell in the size I desired. I had to have the legitimate stuff. At first it was satisfying to just look at the uniforms. I would keep them clean, iron them, and hang them up every day. The ritual was soothing to me.

Sooner or later I had to do it. I had to wear the uniforms I had treasured. I am proud to report that it took me a few months to break down, to really cross the threshold into utter depravity. After that line had been crossed, though, there was no going back. Tentatively, I started by simply wearing the uniforms around the house. I would wake up very early, before anyone could glimpse at me from outside on the street, and simply do my cleaning and cooking wearing the various uniforms I purchased. I got a matching apron. I would pretend I was getting ready for Japanese High school.

Soon, though, wearing the uniform in private was not enough. I purchased a duster trenchcoat and began walking through town wearing my outfit. Nobody knew, and this made me comfortable. But, again, this soon became insufficient to satisfy my obsession.

I began stalking this girl I knew, Sarah. I checked out her routines; when she left for work, when she got back, what time she went to bed. At first I furtively ventured into her place with my uniform under my trench coat while she was away. I knew where her spare key was because I had helped her move earlier. Speaking of this, I'm a pretty beefy guy. I weigh around 240-260 pounds, but I'm not that tall. A great friend to have if you need to move.

Anyway, gradually, I became more comfortable in her apartment. I started doing stuff like rolling around in her bed, stealing her underwear and putting it in little plastic bags, soforth. As you would expect, I became more and more comfortable doing this, and crossed a line. She came home unexpectedly one day, early from work. Panicked, I hid under the bed in my uniform. Immediately, as she came through the door, she spotted my trench coat. Lying under her bed, the sound of my heavy breathing seemed a thousand times louder than it actually was. I could hear her rooting through the trench coat, and could hear the wrinkling of celophane as she found my empty plastic bags. Thank god they didn't yet have her used underwear in them.

I put my sweaty, meaty hands together and prayed.

I heard her walking around the apartment. Thankfully, she didn't bring anyone with her. My mind was flashing; the excitement had triggered my epilepsy. Suddenly, I was barraged with memories from my first anime program, revolutionary girl utena. I heard her walking around some more, and then sit down on the bed. I saw her clothes come off and hit the floor in front of me. During this time I was controlling myself and having a minor epileptic fit. I could see transformation sequences from anime programs I had watched. It was all coming together; the near hallucinations, the girl in the bed above me, and most of all, my sweaty fuku uniform.

She approached the bathroom and got into the shower. She turned on the water. I was convinced that this was the one moment I had been searching for. This was my chance to cross over into the other world described in Utena; the fabric of reality was thin. I could taste it. In many of my anime programs I had seen the seemingly normal characters, like me, enter into a world of magic and joy.

I rolled out from under the bed and bounded into the bathroom. She saw my large form approaching through the glass of the shower and started screaming. I was having epileptic flashes; the screaming sounded just like "KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH" I was having trouble walking, my steps staggered. I couldn't feel the floor. My meaty hands slammed the shower door open, but she sprayed me with a jet of water. The water triggered another fit and I seized, falling into the bath. She tripped and fell on top of me. As she was screaming and my blood filled the bath, it swirled around reality, and intermingled in my mind. Her screams, the blood, my sweat, the uniform, Japan, schoolgirls, magic, tragedy, terror, and hope all become one to me. For one moment, I could taste it. The anime reality. It was here, like a precious jewel perched between my meaty, sweaty pectorals. And then, gone.

SO yeah I like anime.

Mudkips

Today being Halloween, I decided to fuck with the major retard at school when I came out of science for break. He was dressed as Ash. Knowing this was going to happen, I brought a Mudkips doll. Thus I started the conversation, making sure no one saw me.

"So I heard you like Mudkips..." "MUDKIPS? I LUUUUUUUUUUUUVE MUDKIPS." "O RLY? So, would you ever fuck a Mudkips, that is.." (he cuts me off before I could say 'if you were a mudkips') "OF COURSE." "Well I just happen to have a Mudkips here, and..."

Before I finished the sentance, which would have resulted in me hitting him across the face with the doll, he grabbed it. In one swift motion his pants were down and he was violently humping it. Not to get between a man and his Mudkips I started to walk away, because there is no way I'd be caught wrestling a half-naked crazy guy humping a Mudkips.

Needless to say, within 5 to 10 seconds, some girls saw him and started screaming. I cooly walked into a restroom, pretending nothing had ever happened; not that I had intended that outcome, but now that it was in play I didn't want to be involved.

I came back out two minutes later, and like any wanton act on school grounds there was now a huge crowd around him. He was still fucking it and baying this real fucked up 'EEEEEEEEEEINNNNF EEEEEEEEEEINNNF' sound. Suddenly a scuffle broke out in the middle, meaning he probably did something stupid.

I asked someone what had happened. A girlfriend of one of the football players tried to get him to stop, but he bit her for trying to take it away. Someone called in a few football players (all dressed up like Road Warrior) who proceeded to pummel the shit out of the guy. Meanwhile the school police were freaking out and having trouble getting in to the situation.

A few minutes later the intruder alarm went off and we were all shuffled into classrooms. Over the intercom the principal announced that someone had thrown a flaming plush toy into the library. Uh.. what the hell.

So we were kept there and about 30 minutes later the principal came on again. This time he was saying that whoever was behind the beating should turn themselves in. All of a sudden this woman began yelling, "I WILL SUE YOU FOR DAMAGES. YOU LITTLE PUNKS, I'M GONNA SUE..." and it was cut off.

I asked an office later what had happened. Apparently his mother had come to pick him up and threatened to sue for the beating and 'whatever else happened.' The school threatened to counter-sue because of lewd conduct, inciting a riot, and starting a fight.

So I ask you: do you like Mudkips?

People idolize over Haruhi Suzymiya

People idolize over Haruhi Suzymiya because she acts like a guy. You ever wish you could have a girl as a friend, just to hang out with like one of the guys? A girl that would have the same interests as you, the same enthusiasm, the same keen observations and sense of adventure? How about a girlfriend that you could just hang out with, have fun with, and not have to listen to her whine and complain and leak. Haruhi Suzymiya is that ideal "hang out with" girl. She has fans because she has all the best traits of a guy friend you can hang out with, only she happens to be a girl. Understand that when people idolize over Haruhi Suzymiya, they idolize over the personality of a cool guy friend in a girl's body- an ideal friend/partner who has the best of both worlds, and would be nearly impossible to find.

Pokemon

Hey /b/, I have a very serious problem. I'm fucking crying because of how stupid I am.

Okay, so my girlfriend was supposed to come over to my house today because I was going to go take her to a movie. She lives about 20 minutes away, and the movie we were supposed to see started at 4:15, which was in about 40 minutes. I figured "cool, I'll just play Pokemon while I wait".

So I'm playing Pokemon, and having a pretty damn good time. Anyway, she finally does show up, except she's crying as she walks into my room. Instead of doing the right thing by comforting her, I half-focus on my game and her. She starts telling me her cat died, and just as she was getting into it, I get into a random encounter in my game.

A shiny pidgey. Holy shit. (For those of you who don't know/care, shiny pokemon have less than a 1/1000 chance of appearing). I stare into my screen in amazement, yelling "holy shit, YES", interrupting her mid-story. She sobs more, and she starts to yell "You don't even fucking care! YOU JUST WANT TO PLAY YOUR FUCKING GAME!" I'm still looking at my screen, still focusing on catching my shiny pidgey, when she walks over, and tosses the game against the wall. I run over and pick up my DS hoping that nothing has changed on screen, and quickly noticed that she broke it. My system and my shiny pidgey, gone forever.

I start screaming every obsenity I know, and started flailing my arms around. I didn't know she was behind me, and appearantly I backhanded her in the face while I was being a dumbass and swinging my fists around. She yells out "FUCK YOU", and runs out of my house in tears.

What have I done? I've fucked up so badly, and I need to know how to approach her. I don't want a game of Pokemon to be respoinsible for ruining my best relationship ever. Help me /b/.

Pokemon/DON'T JOKE ABOUT RAPE

Okay, I am fucking sick and fucking tired of these fucking reposts about losing a shiny pidgey! LOSING A SHINY PIDGEY IS NOT FUCKING FUNNY! Joke about anything else you want, /b/...

Joke about cp, joke about loli, joke about murder, joke about drugs, but DON'T FUCKING JOKE ABOUT LOSING A SHINY PIDGEY! Losing a shiny pidgey DESTROYS a trainer, it STRIPS THE TRAINER OF HIS BADGES! It is disgusting, inhumane, regressive and insane. LOSING A SHINY PIDGEY IS OFF THE FUCKING TABLE, /b/, NOT EVEN YOU FUCKING VIRGIN ASSHOLES CAN BE SUCH FUCKHOLES THAT YOU JOKE ABOUT A SHINY PIDGEY BEING LOST!

And no, I am not fucking Ash Ketchum, I am a trainer, I lost a shiny pidgey. My 1/8192 chance pokemon was taken from me, I can never get it in a pokeball. I was defeated again and again and again and again and again by The Elite Four when I was on victory road, I wanted to fucking kill my fucking self. IS THAT FUCKING FUNNY? FUCK NO YOU FUCKHOLES!

Go back to making Fresh Prince threads, /b/, you fucking arboks

Supa kawaii desu

Omg hai ^___^ I’m Ai-san and I absolutely luuuv @_____@ anime <3 and my fav is naurto!!! Okies so anyways, im going to tell you about the BEST day of my life when I met my hot husband sasuke!! <333333333 OMFGZ HE WAS SOOOOO FREAKIN KAWAII IN PERSON!!! Supa kawaii desu!!!!!!!! ^______________________________________^ When I walked onto Tokyo street =^____^=I looked up and saw…SASUKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333 3333333333333!!!! “KONNICHIWA OMGZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ SUPA SUPA SUPA KAWAII SASUKE-SAMA!!!!!” I yelled n____n then he turned chibi then un-chibi!! he looked at me [O.O;;;;;;;;;;;] and then he saw how hot I am *___* he grabbed my hand and winked ~_^ then pulled me behind a pocky shop o_o and started to kiss me!!!!!! [OMG!!! HIS TOUNGE TASTED LIKE RAMEN!!! RLY!! >.> <.< >.< *(^O^)* *(^O^)* *(^O^)*] then I saw some baka fat <bleep> watching us and I could tell she was undressing him with her eyes!!!!!!! [ -_____________-;;;;; OMG I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT EITHER!!! (o_o) (o_o) (o_o)] so I yelled “UH UH BAKA NEKO THAT’S MY MAN WHY DON’T YOU GO HOOK UP WITH NARUTO CAUSE SASUKE-SAMA LOVES ME!!! (o_o)” then sasuke held me close =^____^= and said he would only ever love me and kissed me again!!!!!!! ** (*O*)/ then we went to his apartment and banged all night long and made 42 babies and they all became ninjas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nyaaaaa!!!*^)* *(^O^)* *(^O^)*(^o^)(^o^)(^o^)

GIRUGAMESH

Good morrow, MONGRELS ^___^ I’m Gilgamesh and I'm the unquestionable king @_____@ of heroes <3 and one adores Gates of Babylon!!! Alright so anyways, im going to tell you about the BEST day of my eternal life when I met my hot waifu Saber!! <333333333 OMFGZ SHE WAS SOOOOO FREAKIN KAWAII IN PERSON!!! Supa kawaii desu!!!!!!!! ^______________________________________^

When I traversed onto Tokyo street =^____^=I looked up and saw…SABER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <33333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333!!!! “ WHAT LUCK, TO MEET SUCH A DELIGHTFUL LADY ON SUCH A DREARY NIGHT !!!!!” I yelled n____n then she turned chibi then un-chibi!! she looked at me [:3] and then she saw how awesome the king of heroes was *___* she grabbed my gauntlet and winked ~w^ then pulled me behind a pocky shop o_o and started to kiss me!!!!!! [OMG!!! HER TOUNGE TASTED LIKE TEA AND CRUMPETS!!! RLY!! >.> <.< >.< *(^O^)* *(^O^)* *(^O^)*] then I saw an atrocious underserving mongrel watching us and I could tell he was undressing her with his eyes!!!!!!! [ -_____________-;;;;; OMG I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT EITHER!!! (ò_ó) (ò_ó) (ò_ó)] so I yelled “SHIROU YOU MONGREL, THIS IS MY WENCH WHY DON’T YOU GO HOOK UP WITH RIN CAUSE KING ARTURIA LOVES ME!!! (ò_ó)” then Saber held me close =^____^= and said she would only ever love me and kissed me again!!!!!!! ** (*O*)/ then we went to her fortress and engaged in CG dragon dueling all night long and made enough mana to destroy the entire surrounding mongrel populace!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nyaaaaa!!! (^________<)

Tsugumi

Omg hai there - . - I'm Tsugumi-san and I absolutely looooathe -_____- humans </3 especially takeshi!!! Okies so anyways, im going to tell you about the WORST day of my life when I met my ded husband takeshi!! <//////////////////3 OMFGZ HE WAS SUUUUCH AN ANNOYING PERSON!!! Supa baka desu!!!!!!!! >______< When I walked onto LeMU -________- I looked up and saw... TAKESHI!!!!!!!!! </////////////////////////33333333!!!!!!!!!" KONNICHIWA OMGZZZZZZZZZ ANATA BAKA TAKESHI-SAN!!!!!!!!" I yelled n_____n then he turned chibi then un-chibi!!he looked at me [-.-;;;;;;;] and then he saw how hot I am *___* he grabbed my hand and winked ~_^ then pulled me behind a souvenir shop o_o and started to kiss me!!!!!! [OMG!!! HIS TOUNGE TASTED LIKE CHICKEN SANDWICHES!!! RLY!! >_____< *(;_;)* *(;_;)* *(;_;)*] then I saw You, that baka fat bitch watching us and I could tell she was undressing him with her eyes!!!!!!!!!! [ -___________-;;;;; OMG I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT EITHER!!! (O_O);;;;;] so I yelled "UH UH BAKA NEKO I DUN LIKE HIM BUT WHY DON'T YOU GO HOOK UP WITH KID CAUSE TAKESHI-SAMA CAN ONLY THINK ABOUT HOLOGRAMS!!! (then takeshi held me close O_______O; and said he would only ever love me and kissed me again!!!!!!! ** (X_x)/ then he went into a washing machine and set it on heavy duty!!!!!!!! Nyaaaaa!!! ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Oh my God, greetings! I am Ai-san and I absolutely love Japanese animation, my all time favorite being Naruto.

But to get to the point, the most pleasant day of my life was when I found my attractive partener Sasuke. He was so dignified in person. A sight to behold.

I was strolling on Tokyo Street, when I caught a glimpse of Sasuke by lifting my gaze from the pavement. I excitedly greeted him. He stared at me for a while, basking in my looks, afterwards taking my hand and guiding me behind a nearby restaurant where we got intimate.

We were surprised by a random passer-by however, which I managed to drive away with a demonstration of foul language. We carried on with what we were involved in before being interrupted; after that I was invited to his appartement. Following sexual intercourse I became pregnant with his children.

THIS POST IS ABOUT BASKETBALL

Basuketoboru.jpg

In 1891 in Springfield, Masschusetts, Dr. James Naismith nailed a peach basket ten feet from the ground, creating the sport of basketball.

Shortly after, in a move considered vastly out of character, the Canadian-born Naismith did not remain in the United States. He did not help promote and refine his sport through YMCA organisations throughout the country.

Instead, he self-diagnosed himself with yellow fever and travelled to Japan for health reasons. He brought with him his peach basket, creating the sport of basuketoboru.

In the United States, basketball gradually became widespread through drawcard players like Wilt Chamberlain, whose debut is now considered to have ushered in the Golden Age of basketball. Despite this, it was still considered less a sport than a game, played for entertainment at social gatherings rather than competitively. It was primarily played by children and teenagers, who moved onto more respected sports when they became of mature age. The stigma of basketball being a diversion for children rather than a sport of actual athletic merit continues even today.

In Japan, basuketoboru developed along similar lines until the postwar era, when a ban was lifted on non-state approved sports. After borrowing techniques from other sports and from basketball, basuketoboru exploded in popularity. Its following became larger and more diverse than basketball, spawning correspondingly diverse playing styles and techniques, such as the full court decompress. Although still primarily played by children and teens, it garnered some respect as a legitimate sport, as signified by its inclusion into the Olympics.

The Olympics standardised the rules between basketball and basuketoboru, but there were still major variations in the way it was played in either country. The uniforms worn in the U.S. were flamboyantly coloured spandex, whilst the Japanese basuketoboru uniforms were typically monochromatic, using high contrast to distinguish home and away. In basketball, the timer for each quarter would count down from 12 minutes, whilst basuketoboru's timer counted up to 12 minutes. Fans of one were unaccustomed to the other, calling it 'backwards'.

As time went on, it was in the United States that the first cracks begun to appear in the status quo. There were many of course, loyal to basketball since childhood. But from there the sport fractured into many subgroups.

Some grew weary of trying to change people's perceptions of basketball as a children's game. They split off from other leagues and formed their own. They also announced that although they were still playing basketball, their sport was no longer called basketball. It would now be called basket-based athletics.

Still other Americans agreed with the perception, and shunned basketball entirely. They begun to follow basuketoboru exclusively, and it fast gained its own niche. As some understood it, basuketoboru was not merely basketball but the way the Japanese played it. In short order, American basketoboru fans grew up wanting to be players. And riding the wave of popularity, the same local companies who broadcast basuketoboru from Japan to American fans sponsored the creation of a professional domestic league.

The debut was disappointing and universally panned. The standard of play was amateurish, perhaps college-level at the most for some teams. But nowhere near professional, and nowhere near Japan. Worse still, it exposed another fracture and yet another subgroup. The purists. As they understood it, basuketoboru was not merely basketball, and not merely the way the Japanese played it, it was basketball as played by Japanese people. They saw the domestic league as a cheap imitation, missing the point of basuketoboru entirely. It was just basketball in black and white uniforms with the clocks counting up.

American basuketoboru was an oxymoron, an impossibility. They called it 'wasuketoboru'. The term took off.

For years the league struggled. Their matches were poorly attended and those that were there were mostly aspiring players themselves. The purists had no such aspirations, and vindicated, waited with glee for it to die.

Michael James Jordan entered the domestic league as the third pick in the first round, and his impact was felt immediately. He had grown up around basuketoboru and played it all his life. For him it was as natural as breathing. His debut year saw him bag the Rookie of the Year award and a spot on the All-Star team, and people began to take notice.

The purists admitted yes, he was good, but what he was playing was not basuketoboru. No matter how good he was, it was still just basketball. Fans of the league hated people calling their sport 'basketball'.

In his fourth season Jordan became league MVP, All-Star MVP, won the defensive player of the year award and his second consecutive Slam Dunk contest.

Look, said the purists, he's clearly very good, but he can only recreate basuketoboru. Anything new he brings to the game will at best be considered basuketoboru-style.

Jordan asked to be traded to the JBL when his contract came up for renegotiation, where he was signed by a marquee team in Japan. He was immediately moved to the position of center, and led them to a championship trophy, where he clinched the finals MVP.

It was proof, said his American fans. They weren't pigeonholed into the childish trifle that was basketball by virtue of birth – Americans could play basuketoboru.

Soon Jordan's team began to rely on him to the point of predictability. To combat this, the assistant coach and Jordan developed a triangle offense strategy. It worked, and became the cornerstone offensive strategy for many teams, a tactical mainstay of the Japanese game.

ESPN named Jordan the greatest basketball player of the decade. NHK Sports named Jordan the greatest basuketoboru player of the decade.

Jordan was asked to weigh in on the debate.

Did he consider himself a basketball player, or a basuketoboru player? Or perhaps a basket-based athelete?

Could Americans play basuketoboru?

Could Japanese play basketball?

How did he define them? What if your team was Japanese, but you played in an American league, but you didn't wear spandex, and the clock counted -

He replied that he had not given it much thought and did not realise they were two different sports. The answer pleased no-one and was derided on the internet as simplistic and ignorant.

Jordan retired on a career high and was widely recognised as one of the greatest players ever.


Welcome to /a/

I led her into my room. She was pretty: brown hair, muddy green eyes, no rolls of fat, no fields of acne scaring her face, about sixteen years old, and a decent sized rack (not big but not a flat chest either). She stopped and looked about the room to admire my collection; Kare Kano boxset (Very good, cute little series until Anno left, then the budget dropped and the show went to shit), Neon Genesis Evangelion Platinum Edition (Not as bad or as good as people say it is) along with some Asuka and Rei figurines, Full Metal Alchemist (Great series, seems like a shonen but it’s so much better and deeper), a vintage Akira movie poster, pretty much every Gundam series boxset except for G Gundam which is total crap, a poster for the original Ghost in the Shell movie release, Unopened Robotech Mecha action figures (Mint condition), and so so so so much more. It would take days to list. She whistles, “Nice. Very Nice.”

“Thanks.” I say, barely able to hold down my overflowing pride.

We met at the high school anime club, which is mainly filled with fat wastes of life, and noticed each other amongst the smell of body odor and sound of a subbed Sailor Moon episode playing. She took the invitation to my place and here we are. She certainly knows how to appreciate good collection when she sees one.

I decide to get right to the basics and start her interrogation, “Ok, so let me, get this out the way – Do you like Inuyasha?”

She glances at me with something close to disdain, “God, no. There’s nothing interesting in a show about a bishy dog teenager not having enough guts to fuck his girlfriend, but will spend 15 minutes stupidly attacking his enemy’s new barrier before he realizes that he’s gonna need a 15 episode quest to get by it.”

She then lets out a mocking yell of KAAAAGGGGOOOOMMMEEEEE.

“Good.” I sigh. I brought in a girl I met in a convention two weeks ago and she answered that she liked Inuyasha, I think her corpse (or whatever is left of it) is buried in the Johnson’s yard, I really can’t remember.

“Cowboy Bebop?” she perks.

“Certainly, very good episodic anime.”

“Spike dies.” She teases with a smile

I smile, this is turning out very well, she has a cute sense of humor too.

We talk some more and she tells me how she dislikes shonen in general, she never watched it as a kid so she doesn’t have any “nostalgic fondness” for it like other anime fans do. I’m agreeing and nodding, when suddenly it fucking hits me: Wait, does she mean One Piece too? She better not fucking mean One Piece, which is an excellent anime and manga that portrays the silliness of the entire shounen genre by doing everything in an over the top manner but while still having deeper characters than any other shounen could.

My hands flex and tighten in, my teeth grit together and my expression tightens, just managing to contain my building rage until I manage to exercise enough control to ask her.

“What about One Piece?”

She stops and thinks for a second, hand raised to her chin, “Well, yeah, I guess One Piece is pretty good for it’s genre. Pirates just aren’t my thing, though.”

I relax a little, not the answer I wanted but if things continue well, I can put it aside. Besides she can always learn to appreciate it later on.

We talk some more, our opinions match. She thinks Samurai Champloo is good but weak in the middle, so do I. We like old school Robotech because it’s goofy. Rozen Maiden is kinda dumb. I’m in love, we’re soulmates. Everything matches. I’m ready to enter a relationship that will bring me happiness.

Then tragedy strikes.

She opens her mouth, “Well, actually, you know one show I really don’t like?”

“What?”

“The Melancholy of Haruhi Suz-What’s that last bit called? I don’t know. You know, the Haruhi show. It’s a fucking trite harem anime covered with a Evangelion plot and everyone is fucking homo for it. I’m a girl and even I can’t stand it.”

My pulse quickens, I start to sweat uncontrollably, my hands clench and my finger nails begin to dig into my skin. Did she just insult The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya? The smartest, most interesting, cutest romance story and perhaps anime of the 2006 season? My vision turns red.

I let loose a howl, no, a bellow of rage and turn on her. I smash her off my blue beanbag and onto the floor, on top of her. The wind is knocked out of her and before she can regain it, I’m smashing her head continually on the floor.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH. YOU FUCKING BITCH. HARUHI’S TOO FUCKING SMART FOR YOU. YOU DUMB CUNT. IT’S TOO FUCKING SUBTLE FOR YOU. FUCKING BITCH.”

I’m now smacking her across the face, hard, leaving large red welts. She’s still winded, so she hasn’t started screaming yet. Quickly, I jump off her and rush to my drawer and rattle the top drawer open, knocking a pristine Edward Elric FMA figurine to the floor chipping it.

“YOU FUCKING CUNT, DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU MADE ME DO? THAT COST ME $125, YOU DUMB LITTLE WHORE.”

I pull a dagger from the drawer, blade length is about the size of my forearm, close my bedroom door and crouch down like a lion. She’s raised herself a little, so that her hands are lifting her torso off the floor. She’s coughing and in shock, then she looks at me, sees the dagger and screams. Loud. I laugh hysterically at her screams, which are beginning to excite me, and then pounce. She raises an arm to block my falling blade, uselessly. It slices through her flesh like butter, and cuts deep into the bone. Blood spurts every where, onto me, onto her, onto my bedsheets. She stares wide eyed at her ruined, flailing mass, not quite comprehending that the cute little anime nerd she was just talking with friendly with not just a minute ago has just nearly severed it. I smash onto her again, knocking her back and stab repeatedly: into her left breast, right thigh, pelvis, and then hack at her injured arm again. She’s screaming constantly and loudly and it’s stirring my loins, I can’t hold out much longer. I slash open her stomach and let her intestines and organs pour out, her liver slops out next to me and I undo my pants and boxers and lift it up above my rock hard dick. I proceed to knife a hole in it and fuck it, furiously. Now she stares, eyes wide open, in shock, trying to mouth words but nothing will come out. I explode violently into her ruined liver and toss it at her, it smacks into her face and drops off to the side. It’s not enough though, so I leap again onto her ruined torso and slice her open further, up to her neck and fuck her vocal chords. I’m not sure if she’s dead or alive at this point. Finally, I cum again and it gurgles up to her mouth. Actually, she looks pretty dead to me.

Calmly, I put my boxers and pants back on and return to the living room to watch a Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex rerun.

A couple hours later, mom returns home. I offer her a greeting from the couch and she sets some groceries on the table. She goes through her routine of tidying up the house, dusting the hard to reach places in the living room, straightening things up in my parent’s room, and then she enters my room. She walks past the gore drenched walls, the decaying remains of the girl, (all the while whistling "Ningen Nante" by Takuro Yoshida), straightens my bed sheets, and picks up my blood soaked clothes that I changed out of. But before she goes, she glances at my still running computer monitor and something catches her eye.

From the living room I hear her yell my name, “JAMES COOLIDGE, GET IN HERE NOW MISTER.”

I rush to my door, heart pounding, and see her pointing accusingly at my monitor.

I left 4chan on, and someone has posted a picture of Fate-chan in very little of anything, just bordering NSFW. Fuck.

And that’s how I got grounded, /a/.

YOU'RRRE BREAAAKING MY HEAAAAARRRRRRT

Kyon snapped, rushing at Haruhi.

"I CAN'T STAND IT ANY MORE," he cried out, sprinting towards the rotund schoolgirl. He began to pummel his fists into her doughy abdomen, faster and faster. The many rolls of Haruhi's fat peeking out from under her shirt quaked as they took each hit. It wasn't much good, Kyon realized, as the oversized gut just absorbed his punches. Panting, he lifted his head to stare Suzumiya in the eyes. Her face remained in neutral shock.

"Well," Kyon sneered, "what do have to say for yourself?"

At that, she unfroze. Haruhi cocked her head a bit and squinted at the boy in front of her. She swayed and wobbled, the furious flapping of her flabby arms proving fully futile. She keeled over onto the floor with a tremendous mushy thud. Kyon smirked at her plight. He was betting she'd still think up something smarmy to tell him. It would be so like her.

Instead, her bulging eyes welled up with tears and she began to whimper; Kyon was puzzled, could she finally be--

"KYOOOOOOON" she bellowed, her droopy voice hitting awkward ups and downs.

Kyon backed away when her tree trunk of an arm pathetically swung at his ankle.

"I don't have time for this," he said, "I got a date with Mikuru in ten minutes!"

Her chest wracked with sobs, Haruhi Suzumiya struggled to lift her head. With her remaining energy she called out in a desparate wheeze to the retreating boy.

"YOU'RRRE BREAAAKING MY HEAAAAARRRRRRT!!!!!!"

All she could hear was his lunatic laughter as he walked off.

Hentai

Ever since I was three I knew that something was something different in my sexual preferences, as time went on I realized that I liked anime babes and Hentai. Ever since then I have been looking at anime porn and such, I`m not attracted to real girls that much. If I see a girl naked I won`t like it but If I see hentai I`m all in for it. Since I`m a christian I`m wondering if God made me this way for punishment or something, I don`t blame him at all. He didn`t have to make me anyway so I thank him for simply making me. Anyway is it normal for me to like anime babes or not? Should I tell my parents or hide this secret from them? I`m looking at this HOT anime babe in her bra and panties and I`m hard as heck! But is this a sin?

Fucking useless nerd

Anime? Could you be any more of a fucking useless nerd? Seriously. I know people like that who go to my high school, they wish their whole goddamned lives were anime. Probably because their parents got divorced and TOTALLY DON'T CARE when they come home and announce that they're gay or something.

I dont hate anime

It's not so much that I hate anime, well I do its utter shit, but that's not too bad because the world would be boring if we all liked the same thing. Anyway what really gets to me is anime fans or 'otakus' as they have dubbed themselves. They think that liking anime makes them superior to those who don't, they think that if someone does not like anime it means they are too stupid to understand it and they worship Japan. There ongoing obsession with Japan makes me want to kill myself, they all want to learn japanese and move to Japan to be an anime artist. They insist on speaking in broken Japanese all the time, trying to show off to there fellow anime losers just how much they know and they get offended if you say a slight word against Japan. They also have an obsessin with gay people and yell and scream whenever they see one, they say that gay people should be treated the same as straight people yet i don't see then shout and scream when they see a straight couple do you? No, they only reason they love gay people is becasue they are desperate to show the world how openmided they are and they just wait for someone to something like 'thats so gay' so that they have have a 3 hour discussion about it.I myself don't have anything against gays but to be honest i don't really think about it. I could go on for hours but I can't be botherd just know one thing Anime couldn't be crapper if it tried.

COOL FREE RINGTONES

Anime characters gone wild. Non stop hardcore erotic anime moments captured on film, Shockingly hot steamy scenes of famous anime characters exploring wild sexual fantasies. Warning: Anime Fiction contains explicit raunchy content (yeah baby!) and is definitely not suitable for a candlelit romantic evening with a loved one, unless you both like watching anime characters get it on!

Anime hentai > real porn

thats why i prefer anime hentai then real porn.... majority of porn is usally ugly both the body and faces its rare which you dont get the ugly (usally comes with alot of air brushing)... and its usally the non nude models which offer something close to hentai in cuteness/hot and non-old porn models.

Real women need real men

Go back to jacking off to your anime girls. Leave the real women to real men.

Hey girl

What kind of anime u into? I'm all about the Inu yasha, saiyuki, get backers, spiral, furuba, you're under arrest, soul hunter (houshin engi), tokyo underground, samurai deeper kyo, flame of recca, mirage of blaze, gate keepers, real bout high school, street figter, fatal fury, dnAngel, gravitation, yami no matsuei, theif and detective, prince of tennis, juvenile orion, aporipha0, orphen, angelic layer, shama pita ten, kaiken phrase, FAKE, himiko den, kiddy grade, lost universe, slayers, burn up W, for you in full blossoms, fushigi yuugi, gundam wing, yuyu hokushou, hunter x hunter, sakura wars, cardcaptor sakura, tokyo babylon, magic knights rayearth, scrapped princess, infinite ryvius, witch hunter robin, mahou senshi riui, Furi Kuri, gundam seed, vampire princess miyu, king of bandits jing, rave, E's Ot Gojyo (saiyuki), Sanada Yukimura (samuria deeper kyo), Hiroshi (gravitation), Inu yasha, Ban (get backers), Akabane (get backers), Heartia (orphen), Iori (King of Fighters), Taikoubo (houshin engi), Kyou (furuba), Kazuma (scryed), Larva (vampire princess miyu), Shigure (furuba), Ken (weiss kreuz), Dark (dnAngel), Kurama (yuyu hakushou), Akabane (get backers), Touga (utena), Shido (nightwalker), Ryuhou Quatre (gundam wing), Amon (witch hunter robin), Michael (witch hunter robin), Riui (mahou senshi riui), Shido (nightwalker), Jing (king of bandits jing), Yuuki (e's otherwise", Kai (e's otherwise), Eagle (magic knights rayearth), Clef (maigc knights rayearth), Enba (wildrock), Ken (Mata Natsu ga Kita), Haru (rave), Magica (rave)

Big eyes?

I used to watch Dragon Ball Z, and it was cool, and Transformers is awesome too. But one thing I never got about anime is why do they have big eyes? It's from Japan, that should mean small eyes.

Why you should not download anime

Why you should not download anime.
Some known sources to download anime:
Nyaa
BakaBT
TokyoToshokan
news
AnimeTake
AnimeTosho
AnimeSenshi

I will now go in depth about why each one is terrible.


Nyaa is as suspicious as it sounds. There are new viruses called "catz" which stand for "Computer Anti-Tech Zebras". Zebras are code for Trojans (they look alike, hence the name, and cath sounds worse anyways).

BakaBT, as the name suggests, makes you realize you are an idiot the second you download something. Viruses fucking galore.

TokyoToshokan. Toshokan actually means killer in Japanese. By using this website, a virus called Tokyo (Tom's Old Komputer YUO OIP). (YUO and OIP are some serious technical shit.) These render your computer useless.

news takes on a new form of downloading called XDCC. Basically, you can watch anime as you download it. However, this means that the virus is also activated as it is downloaded. Therefore, by the time you finish watching, the virus will have come to it's final form, and your computer compromised.

AnimeTake is also a giveaway. Just look at the name. You get anime from it, it takes your personal identity. That's already bad enough.

AnimeTosho is bad for similar reasons to TokyoToshokan.

AnimeSenshi. Senshi is Japanese for warrior. In other words, it installs a virus that enters your computer, seiges your firewall, and cuts down all the necessary files for your computer.


In other words, you should NOT download anime no matter what you do.

4chan

/b/

BAM! TO BEHOLD, A PUBLIC BULLETIN BOARD, BUILT OF BOTH BRILLIANCE AND BARBARITY BY BASTARDS WITH BONERS. THIS BASTION, NO MERE BULWARK OF BOREDOM, IS A BRUTAL BARRAGE OF BLISTERING BULLSHIT, BARELY BENEVOLENT... BUT BEHIND THE BIGOTRY AND BOOBS, BEYOND THE BITTER BROADCASTS OF BRAGGING BUFFOONS: HERE BE THE BODY POLITIC. A BROTHERHOOD OF BLASPHEMY, BLESSED WITH MORE BALLS THAN BRAINS, BATTLING THE BLAND, THE BOGUS, THE BENIGN. BEDLAM? BRING IT ON. BUT I BABBLE... BETTER TO BE BRIEF. YOU MAY CALL ME /B/.

[/bb/code

Hi /b/.......Im new here. >_>;;

I was wondering if any of u knew how 2 register here........I dont see any place where i can log in. Also, why when u post, your post disappears from the list of posts? Why cant it just go directly to your post. Well anyway i wanted to show u guys some funny pics.....

[img]C:\Documents and Settings\Lisa\My Documents\My Pictures\sleepy_cat.jpg[/img]

[img]C:\Documents and Settings\Lisa\My Documents\My Pictures\woops1.gif[/img]

i hope u guys enjoy them....also, please welcome me to /b/, i hope you are all friendly and treat me well. :D

First let me introduce myself......my fav animes are Naruto InuYasha and Bleach, and i like listening to music (my favorite bands are Fallout Boy and Pink floyd, my favorite song is We Dont Need No Education by Pink Floyd). also, the power level is OVER 9000!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! XD madnes??? THIS IS

[color=red]SPARTA!!!!!!!!!!!![/color]

also, how cum (lol cum) you have to attach a pic? how ghey is that? :p here's a funny pic i found the other day when i was surfing the internet. :cool:

15M get

For almost THREE MINUTES /b/'s highest post count was 14999949. All attempts at posting were blocked with a "MySQL connection failure." I can believe a connection failure for 90%, 99%, or 99.9% of the total posters. But for three minutes not ONE post made it to /b/. That's IMPOSSIBLE. By the laws of probability at least a few posters should have been able to successfully post. But no. ALL POSTS were blocked for THREE MINUTES. After this time, we are greeted with a stickied 15000000GET of Spacecataz. The first post in the sticky was made FOUR MINUTES after that sticky was supposed to have been posted. With tens of thousands of /b/tards refreshing madly, is it remotely plausible that it took thousands of pairs of eyes FOUR MINUTES to locate the sticky and type out a reply? Or rather, is it more plausible that that sticky was made during the "dark period" wherein nobody could post? Nobody, that is, except for you know who.

The trick to mod fuckery is not to make it obvious, guys. There have been failGETS before, but at least there was a glimmer of hope that they were simply failing users, not mods stroking their bloated egos. Now there can be no doubt. Fuck you, mods. Fuck you.

4chan is pathetic

Seriously, anyone who goes and needs to re-look their life.

Especially if you masturbate to the "porn" on there.

Now, I'm not the type of guy who discriminates against hentai... but when it comes to child pornography from children's programming then that's just crossing the line.

The memes aren't funny (with a few exceptions). They're only funny to people with an IQ of 21... and an age of 8.

People need to really re-think of what's funny on the Internet if they think a Black Face firing a laser from its mouth is the funniest thing in the world.

So please, if you're a /b/tard or whatever it's called anyway. You're pathetic and pitiful.

A simple means to reduce the amount of copy pasta

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.

About /b/

There is no way to describe /b/. Or 4chan. Any attempt by an outsider to describe us will completely miss the point. And I get where you're coming from because I was once there myself.

I've been here for years, but when I'm asked to describe /b/ I'm at a loss for words.

To truly understand what it is like here, you must stay for at least a month. It's not about the memes, it's about the apathy, the hatred, and the intentional stupidity.

The Internet (despite what people say) is not taken seriously by a /b/tard. In real life, I smile and wave to people, I say thank you. But on 4chan, I discard my morality. I encourage people to commit suicide. I call respected members of the black community niggers and say that the Jews did the World Trade center.

So, my friend, you would to best simply to say we are being assholes for the hell of it. Because the Internet is not serious business.

Also, I know I'm going to get flamed up the asshole for this, but fuck off.

Attention 4chan

Attention 4chan!

I recently came upon 4chan when a friend recommended I visit the sites for a few laughs. I figured "What the hell? I could use some laughs." I must say that when I came on I was disgusted and not amused at all. Why you ask? Because everything on this entire site is literally shit! I mean yes there is funny pictures posted every now and then. But honestly; Do any of you little shits have a life? I mean are you so immature and unintelligent that you find things like cartoon porn and random naked woman shaking their boobs funny?

GROW UP! Grow up 4chan. You all seriously need a reality check, You could be doing so many things in the day, yet you all choose to sit around on your fucking fat ugly asses and post pictures and then make sarcastic or idiotic comments like "tits or gtfo" and "o rly?".

Get off you fat asses and do something better with your life. I mean all of you have no life, no social life either for that matter. The supposed "girls" that come on here and converse with you are just as much losers are you, they are either fatter then fatty-tan or a term you'd better understand "A trap".

Well I've put in my two cents, and on a last note, I will do everything in my power to expose this site to people who will react legally upon this disgusting filthy site. This is not the end. It's just beginning. Grow up!

-DG

Alpha Male

I'm an Aplha male /b/.

And girls want to fuck alpha males. Let it piss you off as much as you want, but you know it's completely true. That girl you like who is kinda cute in a weird way, but is totally sweet and you have the biggest crush on? The one who keeps going back to guys who treat her wrong for reasnos you don't understand? The one who calls you up at 1 am to cry about how her boyfriend hasn't called her in 3 days, and no matter how long you listen to her, she'll never think of you as anything other than asexual? The one who will curl up next to you on the couch, hug you close, kiss you on the cheek, and never let you fucking touch her beyond that?

Yeah, I'm fucking her.

The hot girl who won't even look at you when you nod at them and smile? The one who laughs when you trip in the hallway and drop your stuff? The one who comes up and coyly aks for your help with her homework, and then pretends you don't exist once you finish?

Yeah, I'm fucking her too, even harder.

The geeky girl you think might be enough like you that you have a chance with her? She plays warcraft on your server, and watches anime, and reads comics? She's so incredible and you just love her so much but you still haven't worked up the courage to tell her how you feel about her?

Guess who just sucked me off and told me they'll always love me?

And what's more? I laugh at guys like you. When you cry about how much girls treat you bad, and wonder why they can't just see that you're a nice guy who would always treat them right? I nod and tell you to hang in there, you'll find someone right for you someday, don't give up hope man. But inside? I'm laughing my ass off at you you pathetic fuck. Every girl you set your sights on, who isn't a disgusting pig-monster, I'm going to fuck 6 ways from sunday before you even tell her you think she's cute. I won't bother trying when you finally settle for that 350 pound girl who works at hardees, you can have that. Anything else I'm going to cum on her face before you get those lips near it.

And the biggest reason I laugh? It's not me doing all this. It's the girls. When you cry about how lonely you are? Or talk about how you just want to curl up and dissapear, and all that emo bullshit? You're triggering her "Don't Fuck" instinct something feirce. You're a miserable weak coward, why would she want your genes? Feel free to buy her a new computer and help her decorate her apartment, you're great for that. But her baby-maker is barking orders at her, telling her to wrap her legs around me and hold on for as long as she can. She needs it, on a primal level you'll never get to see first hand, even if you do get a chance to fuck her. Sooner or later one of them will lay back and spread their legs, but you won't see any hunger in their eyes. They won't beg you to love them forever and make them yours. You won't know what it's like to see her animal side needing you as much as she needs to eat and breath.

And she's cheating on you, I promise that. When she sits around quiet and uncomfortable, acting irritable and irrational towards you, wanting you to just back away and leave her alone, it's not her period. It's because I haven't called her for a day or two and her instincts are telling her to go find me. The primitive section of her brain doesn't want to risk smelling like another man when she gives herself to me, she wants me to know she's completely mine. We do things together she tells you she never would. Her pooper? Mine. I want to give her a facial? of course. I want her to suck the cum out of my dick, even though I just finished pumping away at her ass? she's never going to tell me no. She doesn't WNAT to tell me no. She wants me to know she'll do anything it takes to keep me. She'll rim my ass while she's down there sucking me off if it means pleasing me. She'll drink my cum from a shotglass. She'll wear a buttplug when we go out to dinner. She'll sleep handcuffed to my headboard. Anything.

And then she'll go home to you and tell you she's not in the mood today.

I'd say you should become an hero, but you being aruond makes her want a real man all the more, so keep fagging it up emo bitches, I'll keep that pussy warm while you're crying in the corner.

Chinese loli

   I was in China to visit my girl friends familey.
   We where running low on money so my girl friend decided to get a job for a while.
   This left me alone all day do nothing so I started going for long walks down the people filled street.
   One day I was walking alone when I came accross a cute little girl arould seven years old just sitting on the street crying. Her cloths where dirty and worn.
   I sat next to her and ask if she was ok. She told me her father and mother had died in a accident in the factory where they lived ( In China workers are provided with housing by their work )
   and the uncaring factory had kicked her out to the street. People in China don't really care about strangers so know one had asked her if she was ok or anything.
   She told me a police man had even told her to be care of people who will try sell you.
   Yet not tried to find her and home or anything. I asked her to come with me and she was very untrusting but she noded.
   I took her home and gave her a nice bowl of noodles I told her she could watch TV and I would go out to find her some new cloths. I went out on to the street and found a stall.
   I was really begining to enjoy having her arould I could pick anything and dress her how I wanted.
   I picked a T-shirt that had a hood with kitty ears on it and some short shorts.
   I went home and showed her the cloths and asked if she liked them she looked at me with a huge grin and called me a "GYI" it means like a strange man who watches to much anime.
   I lol'd and asked if the cloths where ok she noded and bit her lip. She begain undress infront of me.... I asked her if she wanted me to leave the room she said why? I am a kid you should feel nothing when I am naked
   I admited to her I infact felt something when she was naked and I was a complete weirdo for feeling.
   She turned to me and said don't feel weird I am cute after all. If you keep me ill let you do things with me but just softley ok?
   I noded I leave this part out because it will disguest moralfags and they wont read anymore the story.
   So anyway my girl friend thought she was such a well believed little cutie and also agreed to keeping her.
   We ended up not leaving china and the little girl is called lui but she said she wanted a english name since her new ba (dad) is white so I call her lilly
   Yeap its been 1 year and a hafe and she calls me dad everyday when I pick her up from school.
   Shits so cash she copys how I act what I watch.
   I now have a little asian loli me. I allow her to watch anything she like and unrestricted us of the Internet.
   She plays heaps of Chinese QQ games and sometimes posts on /b/


D&D

Anonymous quickly slid his copy of the D&D monster manual between his Algebra and bio books and closed his locker door. If he was to survive the afternoon he would have to move quickly. He pulled up his hood, trying to look inconspicuous, and turned around, only to come face to face with the flawless white tabard of the captain of the paladins.
"WHITHER GOEST THOU, KNAVE?!" he demanded, his voice loud despite the muffling of his visored greathelm. "I was just getting my books, leave me alone." said Anonymous. He felt the hairs rising on the back of his neck; the armored bulk of the members of the Paladin squad blocked the hallway entirely.
"I POSTED AN EDICT BANNING YOU FROM THIS CORRIDOR, KNAVE!" The captain roared. His lieutenant looked up from his breviary and addressed no one in particular:
"METHINKS THE HERETIC LOOKS TO BE SMOTE!"
"NOoooo!" cried Anonymous, dodging away from the tightening circle of paladins. "Leave me alooone!" he yelled as he ran toward the stairway for all he was worth, the clanking of plates against chainmail close behind him.
"SMITE! SMITE! SMITE!" The cry echoed from the concrete walls.
'Somebody heeellllp!" he cried as the paladins lifted him bodily across the school courtyard. At their captain's encouragement they broke into a run.
"SMITE! SMITE! SMITE!" the paladins let anonymous go on the upswing, and for a brief second he was weightless, coasting through the air, until he landed with a squishy thud in the fetid darkness of the cafeteria dumpster.
"THY WILL BE DONE OH LORD," the paladins intoned as they slammed the lid.
Anonymous waited until their hymns of triumph faded in the distance before dragging himself clumsily out, shaking, stained and stinking. He felt he could burst into tears any second, but the varsity cheerwenches were there, giggling at his discomfiture.

Hyper Self-Pleasure

Dear /b/, the worst thing has happened just yesterday.

I was sitting there in front of my PC, pants down, fapping to one of the hottest hentai pic I could've ever found on my hard disk, when my mother walked in.

Normally, I would've just tried to hide my erection by pulling my pants back up and pretending to do something else, preferably the least suspicious possible, but not then.

As I was nearing the end of my masturbatory session and couldn't hold it back anymore, I closed my eyes and let myself overwhelm to the orgasm just at the same moment she opened that damned door. I knew I should've locked it, but I believed nobody would've ever bothered entering without asking beforehand.

Thus, being unable to see anything for all the time I enjoyed the, let's say, "warm feeling", I couldn't have noticed she was here since the beginning.

So, yeah, my mother saw me ejaculating till the last drop of semen, and in the lewdest way possible, even.

It was only when I was finally done and did a swift peek to see if I had done any mess on the floor, that I realized her presence.

My heart went right down my stomach at her sight: she was just standing there, staring at me with dismay, then left the room without saying anything. I'm not lying if I admit that, then as now, I just wanted to die due to the huge embarrassment that followed.

lol internet

Before Protests:

THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST

hey gais i juts foun encylopedica dramarita, u gais r funny lol i told evryon on myspace bout u lol post

invader zim

COUNT TO TEN AND ILL POST TITS

U Laff, U Loose!

Slowpoke Combo Incoming, bitches!!!!!

Hey, lets start a furry thread!

Oh man, b, i need advice! my girlfriend wont come to my Liknkin Park concert cause she wants to do marijuana but its illegal oh man b what od i do?

post endingin 74 tels me wat do to

Hey Faggots, My name is John, and I hate every single one of you.

God exists, PROVE ME WRONG


After Protests:

MAN /b/ WAS FUCKING SHITCOCK GREAT BEFORE THESE PROTESTS, THEN THEY WENT AND FUCKED THINGS UP!

the polis

By: Officer Hutson Officer Hutson of the US Police (California) here. You know what, you think you're so funny with the whole Ashley Disdale shit you guys have going on? Yeah, try talk explaining this stuff to my 8 year old daughter. I know what it's like to be your age. I was there. Smoking pot, getting drunk, and throwing pranks on frats next-door. A real laugh. But one day you are going to wake up in a face full of puke, shit, piss, and seaman like I did and realize that you're just pissing your life away doing what? Nothing.

I came home to my daughter bawling and didn't understand why there were naughty pictures of her role model as well as completely disfigured and rotted corpses slewn across her favorite websites. Are you dicks proud of yourself? Are you? If I was there right now I'd curb-stomp your faces in, but thankfully the government should be doing that for me soon enough with all this net protection stuff they're doing. I just sure hope McCain gets elected so we can try to get more control on this internet.

I really hope this will eat you guys up one day when you finally wake up and realize what life is really about. Until then- Fuck you.

P.S. - I saw the HIV shit you guys were trying to pull. That's how I found you guys. I hope you enjoy the one or two sites it got on. Not even Wikipedia accepted your shit.

sage

I still laugh at how 4chan doesn't understand what sage means.

If only I knew moon so I wouldn't have to spend time on a board that imports foreign concepts and then DOES IT WRONG all the time.

Using sage as a way to "insult" someone's post or thread is just completely wrong and a retarded misuse of a good feature that is so popular in sites like 2ch and Futaba. Fuck, iichan and 4-ch do it right. It's just 4chan and 4chan's lame knockoffs that fail at using sage.

The true meaning of sage means that YOUR POST isn't worthy enough to bump the thread. It's ironic, because you think that you're insulting others while you're just, in fact, insulting yourself. Yes, sage can be used when posting a derogatory comment in a thread that you don't want to bump, but posting with just the word "sage" accomplishes nothing but contribute to spamming the board. The trend of replying with the name of a tripfag and sage is even worse, as it accomplishes nothing and only serves to increase the e-penis of whoever you're "attacking".

The sage feature was never meant to serve as an implied insult or general disagreement! Why people started using it that way is beyond me. There are plenty of reasons why one would choose not to bump a thread with his reply. For example, bumping threads with stupid one liner replies should be discouraged and those people should be coerced into using sage instead.

I want to use sage, yet I almost never do it on 4chan because people will jump on me thinking I'm insulting their post or something.

Trolling

I still laugh at how 4chan doesn't understand what trolling means.

If people lurked more I wouldn't have to spend time on a board that fucks up the meaning of words and then DOES IT WRONG all the time.

Thinking you "trolled" a person just by making it believe a lie is just completely wrong and a retarded misuse of term that is used to describe people who literally try to make you angry just by insulting you or your tastes. in others forums they do it right. It's just 4chan and 4chan's lame knockoffs that fail at knowing the meaning of trolling.

The true meaning of trolling means YOU posted something intentionally enraging (Personal opinions don't count) to get somebody incredibly mad and respond seriously to your post. If a person tells you to "Fuck off" or similar things, it doesn't mean he got trolled, it means your trolling attempt was so lame you should just stop trying. Trying to use "U mad" and other similar memes is just a pathetic attempt of covering your hurt ass (Because you are obviously hurt that your troll didn't work and you are trying to save face).

Trolling never meant to be funny, or annoying, or cool, or anything. Only huge nerds with no lives or girlfriends try to get off to people getting mad on the internet. It's like they are admitting their own insecurities and loneliness.

I want to use sarcasm, yet I almost never do it on 4chan because people will jump on me thinking I'm trolling or something.

STUPID fucking MEMES

AAAAAAAAAAH!!!

Every FUCKING day with these STUPID fucking MEMES! I've had it up to HERE with stupid fucking memes! You guys make me want to KILL MYSELF! Is that what you fucking want? For me to fucking KILL MYSELF and write on my suicide note "Cause of suicide: Couldn't handle all of the stupid fucking memes, killed myself"? Because that's what it might as well fucking say!

You guys are literally, L I T E R A L L Y incapable of having even the SIMPLEST of fucking discussion without "MEME THIS, MEME THAT, PROBABLY TYLO BE CHILLIN, HERE'S A PIC OF HUMBLE CANNONS BY AARON ELLIS, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA EBIN AMIRITE?" Fucking STOP IT you pathetic fucking FAGGOTS, you are such fucking cancer that I cannot even fathom how you fucking scumbags live your dumb gay lives. Don't you have a job to get to, schoolwork to finish or a family to attend to? Do you literally do ANYTHING productive with your lives other than post stupid fucking memes on the music section of a god damn anime imageboard? You fucking people make me sick and you're damn lucky I don't have any of your fucking addresses you fucking pieces of shits. I'd spit in your faces.

One Liners

BIX NOOD

MUP DA DOO DIDDA PO MO GUB BIDDA BE DAT TUM MUHFUGEN BIX NOOD COF BIN DUB HO MUHFUGGA

Fanart

Dude, someone seriously needs to learn how to fucking draw. That arm is the size of her waist, and her vagina looks like a flapping.. something. WTF?

FLCL

ha ha, i watch flcl too. it's so underground. i thought i was the only one. we can die togeth

Has anyone really been far as decided to use even go want to do look more like?

Dikush ka qenë shumë larg edhe si vendosi për të përdorur të shkojë edhe duan të bëjnë duken më shumë si?

وقد كان أي شخص حقا بقدر حتى قررت استخدام حتى الذهاب تريد أن تفعل أشبه؟

Хто на самой справе далёка нават вырашыў выкарыстаць нават пайсці хочаце зрабіць больш падобныя?

Има ли някой наистина е далеч, дори когато са решили да използват дори да искат да изглеждат по-скоро?

Algú ha estat realment la mesura tot i que va decidir utilitzar fins i tot anar vull fer més semblen?

有沒有人真的遠遠甚至決定使用甚至想要做看起來更像?

Je li netko stvarno bila daleko, čak i odlučili koristiti čak i ići želite učiniti izgledati kao?

Má někdo opravdu daleko i když se rozhodl použít dokonce jít chci udělat více vypadat jako?

Er der nogen der virkelig været langt endnu som det blev besluttet at bruge selv gå ønsker at gøre mere ligner?

Heeft iemand eigenlijk al veel zelfs besloten gebruik te gaan zelfs verder willen meer doen eruit?

Kas keegi on tõesti olnud palju isegi otsustanud kasutada isegi minna tahad otsida rohkem meeldib?

Ay kahit sino ay talagang malayo kahit na bilang ay nagpasya na gumamit ng kahit na pumunta nais na gawin hitsura mas gusto?

Onko kukaan oikeastaan ole paljon edes päättänyt käyttää jopa mennä haluamme tehdä näyttämään?

Quelqu'un a-t-il vraiment été loin même comme décidé pour utiliser même vont veulent faire le coup d'oeil plus comme?

Ninguén ten realmente sido moi mesmo decidiu usar incluso ir quero facer parecer máis lle gusta?

Ist irgendjemand, gerade als dafür entschieden, wirklich weit gewesen zu verwenden sogar gehen wollen Blick mehr wie tun?

gg

gg reposting something that is blatantly sexual and most likely underage! enjoy

Kneading tits

(´・ω・)つ(・(・Kneading tits

Kneading delicious flat chest

(´・ω・)つ|・・| KNEADING DELICIOUS FLAT CHEST

JA I AM MADE OF DUR BUTTER

JA I AM MADE OF DUR BUTTER UND YOU ARE WORTH 2K MONIES EAT COMMUNISM!!!

Lowtax

please keep all those stupid fucking catchphrases off the SA Forums.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Oh, king eh? Very nice. And how'd you get that, eh? By exploiting the workers. By hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society.

NOBODY SHOULD NEED A MACHINE TO DO SOMETHING SO EASY

Rice cooker

OMG WHO THE FUCK IS SO LAZY THAT THEY CAN'T COOK THEIR OWN RICE

RICE COOKERS DON'T SAVE YOU ANY TIME, FAG. YOU JUST WASTED YOUR GODDAMN MONEY. NOBODY SHOULD NEED A MACHINE TO DO SOMETHING SO EASY.

Popcorn maker

OMG WHO THE FUCK IS SO LAZY THAT THEY CAN'T POP THEIR OWN POPCORN

POPCORN POPPERS DON'T SAVE YOU ANY TIME, FAG. YOU JUST WASTED YOUR GODDAMN MONEY. NOBODY SHOULD NEED A MACHINE TO DO SOMETHING SO EASY.

Pasta cooker

OMG WHO THE FUCK IS SO LAZY THAT THEY CAN'T BOIL THEIR OWN PASTA

PASTA COOKERS DON'T SAVE YOU ANY TIME, FAG. YOU JUST WASTED YOUR GODDAMN MONEY. NOBODY SHOULD NEED A MACHINE TO DO SOMETHING SO EASY.

Egg separator

OMG WHO THE FUCK IS SO LAZY THAT THEY CAN'T SEPARATE THEIR OWN EGGS

EGG SEPARATORS DON'T SAVE YOU ANY TIME, FAG. YOU JUST WASTED YOUR GODDAMN MONEY. NOBODY SHOULD NEED A MACHINE TO DO SOMETHING SO EASY.

Mill

OMG WHO THE FUCK IS SO LAZY THAT THEY CAN'T MILL THEIR OWN GRAIN

GRAIN MILLERS DON'T SAVE YOU ANY TIME, FAG. YOU JUST WASTED YOUR GODDAMN MONEY. NOBODY SHOULD NEED A MACHINE TO DO SOMETHING SO EASY.

Pasta roller

OMG WHO THE FUCK IS SO LAZY THAT THEY CAN'T PULL THEIR OWN NOODLES

PASTA ROLLERS DON'T SAVE YOU ANY TIME, FAG. YOU JUST WASTED YOUR GODDAMN MONEY. NOBODY SHOULD NEED A MACHINE TO DO SOMETHING SO EASY.

This is a Picture

This is picture.I found it on the internet.

thanks op

thanks op i came on cat she hiss at penis
i fapped so hard mine dong flew out da window i here its in china now
wow op i fap so hard my dick bigger 2 inches great vid
omg i coming cats and dogs thnx for pic!!
omg op i come so hard that I shot a whole in my wall. now my mom is angry and said i had a hug cock!
i came so hard im now a woman thx op
The hurricane winds generated from how fast I was whacking it knocked down my entire south wall of my house and now car alarms all over the neigborhood are going off.
I just shat my pants in class now i cant move or it will all squelch out and the girl near me is starting to notice the smell thanks op!
i know own a small fast food chain in rhode island thx op
thx op for share her exclusive move make sister grew dick to fuck my ass with
op i slipped on my own penis im calling the police fuck you op
WOW BITCH NOZE HOW TO SUKK GUD I CUM SO HARD MY BUCKET BROKE
super hot chick thanks op I came a whole mom
oh god all i have left to cum is bone marrow aaaah god no stop it hurts m bone marrow thx op 10/10
holy penis i shat pics of spiderman
epic win OP I cam shit and shat cum
I'm watching this now with my family and my granpa is winning the cumbucket challenge thx op 10/10
I came so hard my cum created a sonic boom and now I can't hear shit thx op 10/10
your under arrest op for make this such fantastic porno movievideo, I birthed several sperm childs
thx op i came so hard my dick split open and wasps flew out and stung my mom 9/11
thx op i cut dick off and threw my dick like cum grenade 10/10
op made me cum like a small turtle call me franklin
awesome porno op I came in a poor man's suit pocket.
I RIPPED MY ARM OFF AND CAME TO STOP THE BLEEDING THX OP


omfg my dick got so hard i could fuck my own asshole!

Cracky Chan

Cracky Chan

Have you ever done anal

It has been two months since I have found out about Cracky-chan's AIM sn. Don't ask me how I did that, some things are better left untold. Anyway, we got in contact, or rather: I contacted her and she responded. I tried to be all cool and hurrhurr-in-cheek with her (if you know what I mean) but of course she saw through my act from the start.

You can fool every other idiot on /b/ but you cannot fool Cracky-chan, especially not when face to face (or should I say: P2P?). I am sure in the few days that we were chatting for hours and hours she got a real good idea of who I really was.

So one day while I was babbling away, trying to make myself look like the best thing since sliced bread served with roast beef by talking about "those fucking furries" and "that one new program I installed recently", she interrupted me by saying: "Have you ever done anal?"

I was kinda put off and shocked at first. I am not going to tell you her real age but a young girl approaching me like that just shocked me for a second or two. Then I regained my cool and answered that yes, me and my ex-gf tried it once but she didn't like that so that had been the end of that. What came next had me baffled again: "Want to try again?"

me: try again? you mean you and me?
her: no, you and your mom
me: lol what
me: so you really mean you and me?
me: hello?
her: yes, you and me, dumbass
me: you're saying you'd let me do you up the ass?
her: more like you will let me do you up the ass
her: i already got the lube and the strap-on, you just gotta haul your ass over here

It's hard to make a decision when you're having a massive hard-on without knowing what to do with it at first. So I want to say that it wasn't really my decision when I packed my bit of shit together and hopped into the next train. I pretty much knew from the moment when I said "okay" (although I don't really remember that moment) that I was completely hers. Trapped in a web of, yes, retarded internet lust. I'll be the first to admit it. But I am sure most of you would have done the same.

I've been living with her the last few weeks now. Sometimes we're sleeping in her bed together but most of the time she makes me sleep on the floor. The house itself is pretty big. Her parents aren't there. I don't know where they are and I have never asked about them. A lot of other people are coming and going, though. Some are staying for a few days, vanish and come again later. Some of them even post on /b/, but I won't disclose their identities. I wouldn't want to make myself unwelcome here. I want to stay close to Cracky-chan. I know she doesn't want me to get too close to her, but I don't care as long as she legs me follow her for a walk outside (the snow is so nice) and as long s I can spread my ass cheeks for her to invade me.

I feel happy. Some of you may think that I am a sad sod, that I am crazy for having let go of my appartment, my cheap job, my so-called friends. I am with Cracky-chan and that is all that matters to me. And when she holds me by the waist and furiously thrusts that big black one into my bowels, I simply cannot ask for anything more on earth.

Thank you 4chan

Thank you 4chan. Today morning my parents had a call. The girl you know as "Cracky-chan' wanted to kill herself and is in hospital now. She will die in one or two days. FUCK YOU ALL for this I knew her FOR REAL over years. I was never so sad in my life before. Guys do you not realise that this is for real? Thats not fun in the realtity a REAL person DIE because of 4chan. I hope so all 4chan assholes burn in hell for ever. Thank you 4chan for killing one of my friends. I think this will bring consequences to 4chan. This is my wish.

Mitchell

Mitchell

An Hero

He was such an hero, to take it all away. We miss him so, That you should know, And we honor him this day. He was an hero, to take that shot, to leave us all behind. God do we wish we could take it back, And now he's on our minds. Mitchell was an hero, to leave us feeling like this, Our minds are rubber, our joints don't work, Our tears fall into abyss. He was an hero, to take that shot, In life it wasn't his task, He shouldn't have had to go that way, before a decade'd past. Now he sits there in my heart, this hero of mine, Always there to make me smile, Make me feel just fine. He had courage,that boy did, courage in his heart. To take that shot, To end his pain, To tear us all apart. But in the end, he died in courage. Lacking, nevermore, He died a hero, Mitchell did, And we'll love him forevermore. We love you like a brother. We miss you so much. We will always love you, kid. Rest In Peace Mitch.

I mock the dead

Personally, I think this is terrible. But I still laugh my stupid ass off everytime I see it. A middle-schooler, who shot himself, with a fucking gun to his head. I laughed my fucking ass off. I really don't like where this is going.

I laugh because I think it's funny. WHY. Why is this so fucking out-of-my-mind hilarious? This is awful, the most awful thing I've done in a long time. Look at me, look at US. We've fallen so far as to come hear and poke fun of suicide and death?

It's pretty fucking stupid that he shot himself over loosing his iPod, sure, but this kid is DEAD. He's gone, an entire life decimated. And here we are. Alive, and making jokes about how fucking cool it is that he shot himself.

Do you even look in the mirror everyday? Do you see what looks back at you? A person who says "LOL AN HERO STUPID FUCKER" and constantly belittle the people who mourn his death (as retarded as they are, I admit.)

This kid was somebody's son. Somebody's grandkid. Somebody's hopes and dreams in mortal coil. And they're gone. And all we can do is laugh. We laugh at their relative's misery, we chuckle at his community's loss.

Someday, sometime, we're going to have to get off the keyboard, look in that bathroom mirror, and tell yourself "I mock the dead."

R.I.P Mitch

mitch, i never even knew u this dude off of runescape gave me ur myspace link, i saw it, and of course i cried, i know what u did, ive been through rough times too, but i just wanted to say im srry to all ur friends, and mitch even though i didnt know u i felt like ive known u for years after i saw ur myspace page rest in peace buddy....

Amerikkka

America Fuck Yeah

Why America is the Best:
-Brits started the colony but Americans were all "Fuck Eurofags!" America proceeds to own the Brits and reject their tea in favor
of liquor.
-War of 1812: Brits try again. Result: FAILURE!
-America then expands to the Pacific, owning Native Americans and Mexico along the way. MANIFEST DESTINY, BITCH!
-America has a civil war, pretty much because the rest of the world was made up of pussies, so we fought ourselves because we're so METAL!
-WWI: Eurofags try and reenact the American civil war, they fail miserably, we bail their asses out
-The Great Depression was so great, the rest of the world suffered for it
-WWII: Eurofags try again at the whole civil war reenactment, fail again, America develops nuclear weapons
-Post-WWII: America rules the world through different means; We fuck over the Commies hard because they are Commie bastards and they suck, like Nazis
-Present Day: Team America: World Police; Team Europe: World Faggots
-The Future: America remains on the forefront of technological breakthroughs, leading to a cure for all diseases, lasers, and other things that are awesome. Europe is consumed by the Zombie Apocalypse because they are too busy sucking to fight back.

Atheists

You might be surprised to learn that the most dangerous group in America are the atheists. Atheists are a cult somewhat similar to satanists, but based on the idea that God does not exist. Atheism is the “official religion” of much of Europe, especially France and Germany and much of Canada.

Atheists believe that all people evolved from monkeys and rocks. They also believe that the universe was created by an explosion called a “Big Bang”. Any child knows that explosions destroy (rather than create), however I only mention this as a means to illustrate just how preposterous and unscientific the core beliefs of Atheists actually are.

Some Atheists call themselves “Intellectuals” or “Agnostics”, but all of them have something in common; specifically they do not accept Jesus Christ as their personal savior and therefore are going to Hell... but more than that they wish to drag you along with them!

You may not personally know an Atheist, but there are over 50,000 active atheists in the USA. Despite the insignificant size of this group, they are part of a well-motivated conspiracy to destabilize our values.

USA

The anti-american alliance

The anti-American alliance is made up of self-loathing liberals who blame the Americans for every ill in the Third World, and conservatives suffering from power-envy, bitter that the world's only superpower can do what it likes without having to ask permission. The truth is that America has behaved with enormous restraint since September 11. Remember, remember. Remember the gut-wrenching tapes of weeping men phoning their wives to say, "I love you," before they were burned alive. Remember those people leaping to their deaths from the top of burning skyscrapers. Remember the hundreds of firemen buried alive. Remember the smiling face of that beautiful little girl who was on one of the planes with her mother. Remember, remember - and realise that America has never retaliated for 9/11 in anything like the way it could have. So a few al-Qaeda tourists got locked without a trial in Camp X-ray? Pass the Kleenex. So some Afghan wedding receptions were shot up after they merrily fired their semi-automatics in a sky full of American planes? A shame, but maybe next time they should stick to confetti. I love America, yet America is hated. America is hated because it is what every country wants to be - rich, free, strong, open, optimistic. Or do you really think the USA is the root of all evil? Tell it to the loved ones of the men and women who leaped to their death from the burning towers. Tell it to the nursing mothers whose husbands died on one of the hijacked planes, or were ripped apart in a collapsing skyscraper. And tell it to the hundreds of young widows whose husbands worked for the New York Fire Department. To our shame, George Bush gets a worse press than Saddam Hussein. Remember, remember, September 11. One of the greatest atrocities in human history was committed against America! No, do more than remember. Never forget.

anti-horse alliance

The anti-horse alliance is made up of self-loathing white people who blame horses for every ill in the World, and jews suffering from horse-envy, bitter that the world's greatest animal can do what it likes without having to ask permission. The truth is that Horses has behaved with enormous restraint since being domesticated. Remember, remember. Remember the gut-wrenching movie Sea Biscuit, and the diagnosis was a ruptured suspensory ligament in the front left leg. Remember those agonizing days when Sea biscuit, first at a walk and later at a trot and canter, learned to run again. Remember the Santa Anita Handicap, and its $121,000 prize. Remember him picking his way through the field. as they thundered down the back straight, taking the firm ground just off the rail. Remember, remember - and realize that horses have never retaliated for domestication in anything like the way it could have. So a few get kicked in the head? Pass the Kleenex. So some glue huffing asshole has to clean up some shit after a parade? A shame, but maybe should have thought about graduating high school. I love horses, yet horses are hated. Horses are hated because it is what every person wishes they could be - proud, free, strong, open, optimistic. Or do you really think horses are the root of all evil? Tell it to those proud calvary officers who cleansed the United States of the taint of the natives. Tell it to the farmer too old to work his ow fields who relies on these stalwart bastions of goodness. And tell it to every little girl who just wants something to love. To our shame, the Kentucky derby gets a worse press than NASCAR. Remember, remember, our noble equestrian friends. The greatest atrocities in human history is failure to appreciate our beloved brethren! No, do more than remember. Never forget.

the rebel alliance

The Rebel alliance is made up of self-loathing Jedi who blame the Empire for every ill in the galaxy, and politicians suffering from power-envy, bitter that the galaxy's only power can do what it likes without having to ask permission. The truth is that the Empire has behaved with enormous restraint since the Battle of Yavin. Remember, remember.

Remember the gut-wrenching holos of weeping stormtroopers phoning their partners to say, "I love you," before the station was destroyed. Remember those people leaping to their deaths from safety-pod hatches with no safety pods installed.

Remember the hundreds of droids buried alive.

Remember the smiling face of that beautiful girl who was in one of the detention cells. Remember, remember - and realise that the Empire has never retaliated for the destruction of the Death Star in anything like the way it could have.

So a few Rebels got locked without a trial in cellblock 1138? Pass the Kleenex.

So some Gungan wedding receptions were shot up after they merrily fired their blasters in a sky full of Empire shuttles? A shame, but maybe next time they should stick to confetti.

Remember, remember, the Death Star. One of the greatest atrocities in human history was committed against the Empire.

No, do more than remember. Never forget!

Gundam

The Earth Federation is made up of self-loathing bleeding-hearts who blame the Zabis for every ill in the Earth sphere, and elitists suffering from power-envy, bitter that the its colonies' only superpower can do what it likes without having to ask permission. The truth is that Zeon has behaved with enormous restraint since the death of Garma Zabi. Remember, remember.

Remember the gut-wrenching tapes of Garma phoning his girlfriend to say, "I love you," before he was burned alive. Remember him charging to his death from inside of a burning Gaw. Remember the hundreds of crewmen incinerated. Remember, remember - and realise that Zeon has never retaliated for Garma in anything like the way it could have.

So a few Side 6 tourists got locked without a trial? Pass the Kleenex. So some Southeast Asian wedding receptions were shot up after they merrily fired their semi-automatics into a jungle full of Zeon mobile suits? A shame, but maybe next time they should stick to confetti.

I love Zeon, yet Zeon is hated. Zeon is hated because it is what every country wants to be - rich, free, strong, open, optimistic. Or do you really think the Principality is the root of all evil?

Tell it to my brother Garma Zabi, who was incinerated by the Federation warship White Base. Tell it to the nursing mothers whose husbands died in that battle, or were ripped apart in the explosion. And tell it to the millions of young widows whose husbands gave their lives for the Principality. To our shame, Zeon Deikun gets a worse press than General Revil.

Remember, remember, Garma Zabi. One of the greatest atrocities in human history was committed against Zeon!

No, do more than remember. Never forget. SIEG ZEON!

I AM A CONSERVATIVE SHITPILE

This morning I was awoken by my alarm clock powered by electricity generated by the public power monopoly regulated by the US department of energy.

I then took a shower in the clean water provided by the municipal water utility.

After that, I turned on the TV to one of the FCC regulated channels to see what the national weather service of the national oceanographic and atmospheric administration determined the weather was going to be like using satellites designed, built, and launched by the national aeronautics and space administration. I watched this while eating my breakfast of US department of agriculture inspected food and taking the drugs which have been determined as safe by the food and drug administration.

At the appropriate time as regulated by the US congress and kept accurate by the national institute of standards and technology and the US naval observatory, I get into my national highway traffic safety administration approved automobile and set out to work on the roads built by the local, state, and federal departments of transportation, possibly stopping to purchase additional fuel of a quality level determined by the environmental protection agency, using legal tender issued by the federal reserve bank. On the way out the door I deposit any mail I have to be sent out via the US postal service and drop the kids off at the public school.

Then, after spending the day not being maimed or killed at work thanks to the workplace regulations imposed by the department of labor and the occupational safety and health administration, I drive back to my house which has not burned down in my absence because of the state and local building codes and the fire marshall's inspection, and which has not been plundered of all its valuables thanks to the local police department.

I then log onto the internet which was developed by the defense advanced research projects administration and post on freerepublic and fox news forums about how SOCIALISM in medicine is BAD because the government can't do anything right.

Metal Gear Solid

My fellow Americans, Good morning.

As Americans, we love Freedom. But true Freedom isn't a given, like the air we breathe, or the water we drink.

About two hundred and forty years ago, our forefathers fought bravely, giving their blood, sweat and tears. And in the end, they won our Freedom. And we must never forget this.

If anything appears that threatens our belief in this Freedom, we will oppose it. We will crush it.

In fighting to gain our Freedom, we need no reasons. We require no just cause or flowery words. In order to protect our neighbors who love Freedom and this faith in Freedom, we continue to believe in our own justice.

We won't abandon any battles. And the reason is because we are all citizens of the United States of America.

And as long as you all will allow it, I will be a vanguard leading this fight.

And the reason is because I'm the President of this Great United States of America!

Navy (USA)

This is a transcript of an actual radio conversation of a US Naval ship with Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October 1995. The transcipt of the Radio conversation was released by the Chief of Naval operations on the 10th october 1995.

Americans: Please divert your course 15 degrees to the North to avoid a collision.

Canadians: Recommend you divert your course 15 degrees to the south to avoid collision.

Americans: This is the Captain of a US Navy Ship, I say again, divert your course.

Canadians: Number One, I say again, divert your course.

Americans: This is the aircraft carrier USS Lincoln, the second largest ship in the United States Atlantic fleet. We are accompanied by three destroyers, three cruisers and numerous support vessels. I demand that you change your course 15 degrees noth. Thats one five degrees north, or counter measures will be undertaken to ensure the safety of this ship.

Canadians: This is a lighthouse. Your call.

Nazi's are better than us

Anyone else here not a racist, but wishes the Nazis had won?

Theirs was a truly effective fascist government that took a nation on its knees from a depression and turned it into a military, technological and economic powerhouse within the space of thirty years.

It was a social experiment in the way that many reformed or new nations are. America was an experiment in democracy and (eventually) egalitarianism. The Soviet Union was an experiment in Communism. Nazi Germany was the grandest experiment of them all: a rejection of the gentle side of man and a wholehearted pursuit of our more teutonic side: The glorification of the strong, the self-sufficient, and the dominant. It was to be the beginning of a bolder and more uncompromising global civilization that would bring discipline where before there was only coddling; that would harden the soft, and that would not be afraid to say that equality means equal opportunities, not that all men regardless of education or skill are inherently equal to one another. It was a call out to all men to transcend their passive, mediocre existances and aspire to become the heroic and unstoppable species that mankind always had the potential to become.

Nazi Germany was the combined hopes, dreams and ambitions of all who dared to dominate; but in the end, these dreams were quashed by weak, subversive men who would rather hold their superiors back rather than attempt to catch up.

THIS IS MY RIFLE

THE FIRST AND MOST IMPORTANT THING I CARRY EVERY SINGLE DAY IS MY GUN, BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN A TERRORIST NAZI COMMUNIST NIGGER MIGHT TRY TO RAPE/MUG/KILL ME!
THE SECOND IS MY CELL PHONE SO THAT I CAN ALWAYS CHECK FOR TEXT AND PHONE MESSAGES THAT I NEVER GET
THE NEXT IS MY MP3 PLAYER, EVEN THOUGH MY PHONE ALSO HAS MP3 CAPABILITY, BUT IT LOOKS COOL!
THE NEXT IS MY PDA, BECAUSE WITH MY BUSY SCHEDULE OF BROWSING 4CHAN AND FAPPING TO PORN IT'S HARD TO KEEP TRACK OF ALL THE OTHER THINGS THAT NEED TO GET DONE
THE THIRD IS MY LIGHTER, EVEN THOUGH I USUALLY DON'T HAVE ANY CIGARETTES IN THE PICTURE. I TRY TO DO TRICKS WITH IT TO IMPRESS PEOPLE BUT I USUALLY END UP FAILING, AND PEOPLE LAUGH AWKWARDLY WHILE TRYING TO SAY THAT I DID OK.
NEXT I CARRY ANOTHER LIGHTER, JUST IN CASE MY OTHER ONE IS DAMAGED IN MY SHOOTOUT WITH THE ENEMY!
NEXT I CARRY A WATCH WITH 200 DIFFERENT FEATURES, 197 OF WHICH I NEVER USE.
NEXT I CARRY A BUNCH OF KEYS. A BUNCH. MOST ARE TO PADLOCKS I BOUGHT AND HAVE IN A TRUNK THAT'S LOCKED WITH A PADLOCK. IT MAKES ME LOOK IMPORTANT TO HAVE A LOT OF KEYS, THOUGH.
NEXT IS MY 50 MILLION CANDLEPOWER ELITE TACTICAL TOTALLY USED BY THE SEALS TACTICAL OPERATIONS FLASHLIGHT, FOR PLAYING WITH MY CAT.
NEXT IS MY WALLET, WHICH CONTAINS MORE MONEY THAN I ACTUALLY NEED IN CASH, BUT IT LOOKS COOL WHEN I HAVE ALL DAT PAPER. ALSO, LOOK I JUST HAPPENED TO HAVE MY ID SHOWING. I'M SO COOL TO HAVE "ACCIDENTALLY" PUT MY PICTURE ON THE INTERNET.
NEXT IS MY FOLDING TACTICAL 2.5" KNIFE, JUST IN CASE I RUN OUT OF AMMO OR AM ATTACKED BY A VICIOUS GANG OF CARDBOARD BOXES THAT NEED TO BE OPENED.
NEXT IS MY OTHER TACTICAL FOLDING KNIFE JUST IN CASE I HAVE TO LODGE THE OTHER ONE IN THE HEART OF AN ATTACKER!
NEXT IS MY MULTI-TOOL, JUST IN CASE I NEED TO REPAIR A JET OR SOMETHING.
LAST IS ANY SORT OF DECORATIONAL ITEM THAT I DON'T REALLY WEAR, BUT CARRY AROUND JUST IN CASE I'M ALONE SO THAT I CAN LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND THINK I LOOK COOL WITHOUT PEOPLE JUDGING ME.

OPERATOR AS FUCK

They tried the "hurr durr bring in an owner's manual" crap with me last time I bought .357 ammo. I don't have an owner's manual for my 1894, but I had the fucking rifle in my trunk.

I went back to the car, loaded my remaining rounds, and stormed the walmart sporting goods counter. I leveled the barrel at the old man's head, while blading at a 45 degree angle and screaming for him to hand over the ammo. He stuttered, and fumbled in his pockets for the key to the case... but I had no time for his disrespect, so I let three rounds loose into center mass. He dropped the keys, and I picked up all the ammo I could fit in a cart.

I made a hasty escape by using the ammo cart as a skateboard, spray firing from the hip as I sailed past the electronics. Some kids were playing Halo and I dropped them on the spot. BOOM click-clack BOOM! A rent-a-cop dove towards the children, gallantly trying to take the bullets for them, but he fell short and slid into a display of Fritos. I loaded more rounds into my cop-killing evil-blued lever-automatic death machine, then fired upon some newborn children as their parents were walking into the store.

I then proceeded to the cashier, and forced her to ring up my goods at gunpoint. She asked, "Is this for a pistol, or a rifle?"

I shrieked "BOOOOOOOOOOOOTH!" and squeezed the trigger.

I then left my money on the counter. I grabbed my bags and dashed towards the exit. The woman at the door asked for my receipt, which caused me to shake uncontrollably and foam at the mouth. I moved my trusty lever action's switch to full auto, and let loose a barrage of poison hollow point .50 caliber bullets, riddling her body and spraying the door with a sweet ruby mist. She crawled after me, struggling to breathe.

"Hnnngggghhhh... can... I... please... see your... receipt, sir...?"

I stopped and turned.

"Old woman, these goods are now legally my property, and I will not tolerate any further harassment. Tell your friends I mean business."

I shot out her knee caps then cut her left hand off with my Swiss Army knife. After loading my goods into my car, I sped off into the sunset.

Patton

Men, this stuff that some sources sling around about America wanting out of this war, not wanting to fight, is a crock of bullshit. Americans love to fight, traditionally. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. You are here today for three reasons. First, because you are here to defend your homes and your loved ones. Second, you are here for your own self respect, because you would not want to be anywhere else. Third, you are here because you are real men and all real men like to fight. When you, here, everyone of you, were kids, you all admired the champion marble player, the fastest runner, the toughest boxer, the big league ball players, and the All-American football players. Americans love a winner. Americans will not tolerate a loser. Americans despise cowards. Americans play to win all of the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost nor will ever lose a war; for the very idea of losing is hateful to an American.

You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you right here today would die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Death, in time, comes to all men. Yes, every man is scared in his first battle. If he says he's not, he's a liar. Some men are cowards but they fight the same as the brave men or they get the hell slammed out of them watching men fight who are just as scared as they are. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes an hour. For some, it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood. Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base. Americans pride themselves on being He Men and they ARE He Men. Remember that the enemy is just as frightened as you are, and probably more so. They are not supermen.

All through your Army careers, you men have bitched about what you call "chicken shit drilling". That, like everything else in this Army, has a definite purpose. That purpose is alertness. Alertness must be bred into every soldier. I don't give a fuck for a man who's not always on his toes. You men are veterans or you wouldn't be here. You are ready for what's to come. A man must be alert at all times if he expects to stay alive. If you're not alert, sometime, a German son-of-an-asshole-bitch is going to sneak up behind you and beat you to death with a sockful of shit!

There are four hundred neatly marked graves somewhere in Sicily. All because one man went to sleep on the job. But they are German graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before they did. An Army is a team. It lives, sleeps, eats, and fights as a team. This individual heroic stuff is pure horse shit. The bilious bastards who write that kind of stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don't know any more about real fighting under fire than they know about fucking!

We have the finest food, the finest equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity those poor sons-of-bitches we're going up against. By God, I do.

My men don't surrender. I don't want to hear of any soldier under my command being captured unless he has been hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight back. That's not just bull shit either. The kind of man that I want in my command is just like the lieutenant in Libya, who, with a Luger against his chest, jerked off his helmet, swept the gun aside with one hand, and busted the hell out of the Kraut with his helmet. Then he jumped on the gun and went out and killed another German before they knew what the hell was coming off. And, all of that time, this man had a bullet through a lung. There was a real man!" "All of the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters, either. Every single man in this Army plays a vital role. Don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. Every man has a job to do and he must do it. Every man is a vital link in the great chain. What if every truck driver suddenly decided that he didn't like the whine of those shells overhead, turned yellow, and jumped headlong into a ditch? The cowardly bastard could say, "Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands". But, what if every man thought that way? Where in the hell would we be now? What would our country, our loved ones, our homes, even the world, be like? No, Goddamnit, Americans don't think like that. Every man does his job. Every man serves the whole. Every department, every unit, is important in the vast scheme of this war. The ordnance men are needed to supply the guns and machinery of war to keep us rolling. The Quartermaster is needed to bring up food and clothes because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot to steal. Every last man on K.P. has a job to do, even the one who heats our water to keep us from getting the 'G.I. Shits'.

Each man must not think only of himself, but also of his buddy fighting beside him. We don't want yellow cowards in this Army. They should be killed off like rats. If not, they will go home after this war and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the Goddamned cowards and we will have a nation of brave men. One of the bravest men that I ever saw was a fellow on top of a telegraph pole in the midst of a furious fire fight in Tunisia. I stopped and asked what the hell he was doing up there at a time like that. He answered, "Fixing the wire, Sir". I asked, "Isn't that a little unhealthy right about now?" He answered, "Yes Sir, but the Goddamned wire has to be fixed". I asked, "Don't those planes strafing the road bother you?" And he answered, "No, Sir, but you sure as hell do!" Now, there was a real man. A real soldier. There was a man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty might appear at the time, no matter how great the odds. And you should have seen those trucks on the rode to Tunisia. Those drivers were magnificent. All day and all night they rolled over those son-of-a-bitching roads, never stopping, never faltering from their course, with shells bursting all around them all of the time. We got through on good old American guts. Many of those men drove for over forty consecutive hours. These men weren't combat men, but they were soldiers with a job to do. They did it, and in one hell of a way they did it. They were part of a team. Without team effort, without them, the fight would have been lost. All of the links in the chain pulled together and the chain became unbreakable.

Don't forget, you men don't know that I'm here. No mention of that fact is to be made in any letters. The world is not supposed to know what the hell happened to me. I'm not supposed to be commanding this Army. I'm not even supposed to be here in England. Let the first bastards to find out be the Goddamned Germans. Some day I want to see them raise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl, 'Jesus Christ, it's the Goddamned Third Army again and that son-of-a-fucking-bitch Patton'."

We want to get the hell over there. The quicker we clean up this Goddamned mess, the quicker we can take a little jaunt against the purple pissing Japs and clean out their nest, too. Before the Goddamned Marines get all of the credit.

Sure, we want to go home. We want this war over with. The quickest way to get it over with is to go get the bastards who started it. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we can go home. The shortest way home is through Berlin and Tokyo. And when we get to Berlin, I am personally going to shoot that paper hanging son-of-a-bitch Hitler. Just like I'd shoot a snake!

When a man is lying in a shell hole, if he just stays there all day, a German will get to him eventually. The hell with that idea. The hell with taking it. My men don't dig foxholes. I don't want them to. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to dig one either. We'll win this war, but we'll win it only by fighting and by showing the Germans that we've got more guts than they have; or ever will have. We're not going to just shoot the sons-of-bitches, we're going to rip out their living Goddamned guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We're going to murder those lousy Hun cocksuckers by the bushel-fucking-basket. War is a bloody, killing business. You've got to spill their blood, or they will spill yours. Rip them up the belly. Shoot them in the guts. When shells are hitting all around you and you wipe the dirt off your face and realize that instead of dirt it's the blood and guts of what once was your best friend beside you, you'll know what to do!

I don't want to get any messages saying, "I am holding my position." We are not holding a Goddamned thing. Let the Germans do that. We are advancing constantly and we are not interested in holding onto anything, except the enemy's balls. We are going to twist his balls and kick the living shit out of him all of the time. Our basic plan of operation is to advance and to keep on advancing regardless of whether we have to go over, under, or through the enemy. We are going to go through him like crap through a goose; like shit through a tin horn!

From time to time there will be some complaints that we are pushing our people too hard. I don't give a good Goddamn about such complaints. I believe in the old and sound rule that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder WE push, the more Germans we will kill. The more Germans we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that.

There is one great thing that you men will all be able to say after this war is over and you are home once again. You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great World War II, you WON'T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, "Well, your Granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana." No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, "Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Great Third Army and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-Bitch named Georgie Patton!"

Obama Conspiracy

Basically I have just figured out our governments biggest conspiracy. Obama rhymes with llama. Llamas are large animals that have wool for protection against cold. It is very cold in northern Russia. Russia has nukes. Japan was the only country nuked in ww2. Japan was nuked 2 times. 2 times 2 is four. a llama has 4 legs and 4 feet. If you shave a llama you have enough wool for 4 coats for small children. Obama has children. Obama has two children. 2 time s 2 is 4 and 4 divided by 2 is 2. If you add 2 + 2 it equals four and if you subtract 2 from 4 it equals 2. The second letter in Obama is B and the fourth letter in Barack is C. C is the 3rd letter in the alphabet and B is the second letter in the alphabet. Coincidence? No. Llamas cannot read the alphabet and neithe can Obama because he is a Llama. I hope this use your information it because very i mportant.

Computers

Airlines

Operating Systems

If operating systems ran airlines:

Everybody pushes the airplane until it glides, then jump on and let
the plane coast until it hits the ground again, then push again, jump on
again and so on. This is the DOS airline.

The same thing but with more leg room to push. The DOS with QEMM
airline.

All the stewards, stewardesses, captains, baggage handlers, and ticket
agents look the same, act the same, and talk the same. Every time you
ask questions about details, you are told you don't need to know, don't
want to know, and everything will be done for you without you having to
know, so just shut up. This is the MAC airline.

To board the plane, you have your ticket stamped ten different times by
standing in ten different lines. Then you fill out a form showing where
you want to sit and whether it should look and feel like an ocean liner,
a passenger train, or a bus. If you succeed in getting on board the
plane and the plane succeeds in getting off the ground, you have a
wonderful trip...except for the times when the rudder and flaps get
frozen in position, in which case you have time to say your prayers and
get yourself prepared before the crash. This is the OS/2 airline.

The airport terminal is nice and colorful, with friendly stewards and
stewardesses, easy access to the plane, an uneventful takeoff...then
BOOM! the plane blows up without any warning whatsoever and you're dead.
This is the Windows airline.

Everyone marches out on the runway, say the password in unison, and form
the outline of an airplane. Then they all sit down and make a whooshing
sound like they're flying. This is the Windows NT airline.

Everyone brings one piece of the plane with them when they come to the
airport. They all go out on the runway and put the plane together piece
by piece, arguing constantly about what kind of plane they're building.
This is the Unix airline.

GNU/Linix

Fedora Air: You fly for free in an experimental jet with parts being manufactured by a large corporation. Not everything works properly and sometimes your chair will break. The corporate backer doesn't really care since you aren't a paying cutomer.

Debian Air: It's a smooth flight on an old plane. You've got the option of having a basic chair right away or building it yourself. You've got the choice of an attractive stewardess that will offer you suggestions, or a plain stewardess that will do what you say quickly, while reminding you of things you need. It doesn't work on new routes and airports, but it's got a wide array of destinations that many other airlines don't bother with.

Ubuntu Air: Uses the newer planes with a new paint job from Debian Air, which still experience a bit of turbulence. It's the busiest airport and is funded by a millionaire who used to work at Debian Air. You have a choice of an ditsy blond stewardess who just brings you what you ask for, or stewardesses just like Debian air had, but there are a lot more annoying teenagers on board.

Slackware Air: Gives you a nice, comfortable seat, but there's not a full time stewardess and she makes you get all of the parts yourself if you want to make changes. Doesn't utilize the turbo jets on newer airplanes, but it's fast enough that most passengers don't complain.

Arch Air: Gives you a pile of parts and a stewardess to help you sort through them. Also, has a thick manual for any questions you have. Any time you want, you can update your seat to use the newest parts.

Gentoo Air: You are given a given a block of metal, an even thicker manual, and a blowtorch.

LFS Air: You are given an even thicker manual, you are responsible for bringing your own blowtorch and mining a large block of metal.

Mint Air: Similar to Ubuntu Air but the aircraft is styled differently. Also halfway through the flight a group of terrorist hijacks the plane and screams "ALLAH ACKBAR!" and demands the flight be diverted to Palestine. A struggle ensues between an undercover air marshal and one of the hijackers who happens to have a bomb strapped to his body. The bomb goes off accidentally, tearing the jet in half and suddenly you find yourself tumbling through the air. You wake up suddenly from your nightmare, realizing you're safe and sound on an Ubuntu Air flight. The stewardess serves you green tea and mints, winking.

GNU/Linux

Installing GNU/Linux won't solve your computer woes. It's not going to magically remove the anguish of being a non-technical person in a technical world.

Although neckbeards give the impression that GNU/Linux "just works," it's not quite as simple as that. You'll still experience incompatibility and those irritating nuances associated with all forms of desktop computing.

What you won't experience, however, is a lack of attention to details with the user in mind.

If you're switching to a GNU/Linux solely because you're ticked off with Windows, no desktop environment will please you.

However, if you're willing to make a change that will first be bumpy, but will eventually pay off in terms of overall satisfaction and enlightenment while computing, then you're ready for GNU/Linux. You can even use your existing computer without having to buy additional hardware.

You have to be willing to change your entire perception of how desktop computing should be.

JPEG

Computers jpeg.jpg

Because JPEGs are more heavily compressed than other image formats, their information is more volatile and likely to expand at high speed through an unchecked buffer, poorly allocated resource or any other available system space. I'd guess you're probably losing image data through one of these means.

You see, when you load a JPEG into memory, the EXtra colour Information Format (EXIF) header is loaded into RAM in order to prepare the video prebuffer for the incoming high-speed flow of colour information from the uncorked JPEG. If your bus isn't ready for this information, the rapidly decompressing file information can flow through other parts of your system.

Ordinarily this isn't a problem: as a matter of fact, JPEG was designed for this sort of thing. Older computers couldn't handle the explosive power behind the fledgeling image decompression algorithm, so rather than fight it, image experts invented the Jampacked Picture Extraction and Gathering (JPEG) protocol. They cleverly decided to allow the image data to spray wherever it would, knowing that after the extraction phase would send raw data all over the inside of the computer, the gathering phase would locate it all and reassemble it into an image. With the advent of faster computers the delay between spray and collection is so small as to be unnoticeable, while newer and bigger video cards are more capable of withstanding the onslaught of colours.

Still, the primary weakness of this algorithm is the haphazard placement of decompressed data. There's just too much of it to channel through normal means, so any loss of data containment results in corrupted images. In your case, it would appear that you're losing image data through the empty hole where your goddamned shift key should be.

JPG and PNG

Now listen here, fuckers. Learn the difference between JPG and PNG ALREADY.

- JPEG (pronounced jay-peg) is a most commonly used standard method of lossy compression for photographic images.

- PNG (Portable Network Graphics) is a losslessly compressed bitmap image format.

PNG is supposed to substitute GIF format, not JPG format you motherfuckers. For GIF, read "DRAWINGS, PAINTINGS, ICONS, etc" with a tiny palette. PNG IS LIKE A GIF WITH 65K COLOR, DUH.

So stoping saving your shitty PHOTOGRAPHS in PNG. IT WILL NOT IMPROVE THE QUALITY AT ALL, NOR WILL MAKE YOU LOOK COOL OR INDIE.

Life is like an FPS

hay guys i was just thinking about ow everyone's all like "LIFE IS LIKE AN FPS WITHOUT A RESPAWN LOL" but sometimes the admin just sets respawn delay to be WAY TOO LONG, so it sorta seems like there's no respawn, and you kinda forgot you're playing the game until suddenly you're out in the open and soom AUG whore ganks you and I think this could be it because even if a bunch of cavemen did respawn and were all like "HOW I BUY CLUB" just now, we'd probably put them in insame asylums or they'd join up with terrorists or something so no one would really notice until we get, like, the black plague respawn in a billion years and on top of that sometimes nobody respawns until one team wins the match so maybe what we did wrong was breed too fast, so the match went on and on before one team could kill the other and now all we gotta do is finish off the other team and there'd be like A GOOGOPLEX RESPAWNS and everyone'd be all like "GG lol" but most of 'em would be sarcastic because they've been in observer mode with jesus for trillions of years and the whole time they were like "HE'S BEHIND THE FUCKING BOX".

Most of You faggots are fucking n00bs @ the internet

Ehhhh, most of you faggots are fucking noobs @ the internets.

I use linux not because I hate microsoft (believe me, I do, but that's not why), not because I want to be a geek (I am), but because it fits my style. It's so much easier to accomplish things when you have the power of *nix commandline goodies ala GNU tools, etc. As well, I don't have to spend time searching for cracks and shit because /everything/ I use is free and I can build it from source if I need to.

Not only that, but anything I don't like, I can crack open and change, usually without too much difficulty. Linux: The OS is /yours/.

Get the fuck out, all of you. @ OP, unrar-free might work, as well as install rar and using rar x filename. (rar might be in multiverse repos, you should have those enabled anyway)

My Mac sucks

I don't want to start a holy war here, but what is the deal with you Mac fanatics? I've been sitting here at my freelance gig in front of a Mac (a 8600/300 w/64 Megs of RAM) for about 20 minutes now while it attempts to copy a 17 Meg file from one folder on the hard drive to another folder. 20 minutes. At home, on my Pentium Pro 200 running NT 4, which by all standards should be a lot slower than this Mac, the same operation would take about 2 minutes. If that.

In addition, during this file transfer, Netscape will not work. And everything else has ground to a halt. Even BBEdit Lite is straining to keep up as I type this.

I won't bore you with the laundry list of other problems that I've encountered while working on various Macs, but suffice it to say there have been many, not the least of which is I've never seen a Mac that has run faster than its Wintel counterpart, despite the Macs' faster chip architecture. My 486/66 with 8 megs of ram runs faster than this 300 mhz machine at times. From a productivity standpoint, I don't get how people can claim that the Macintosh is a superior machine.

Mac addicts, flame me if you'd like, but I'd rather hear some intelligent reasons why anyone would choose to use a Mac over other faster, cheaper, more stable systems.

naturally I knows the hacker

i have been hacking seince i was 7 (im 13 now) my parents supported it, and it has helped many people, i have helped add security to sites by testing security, and there is a whole group of hackers im a part of at hackthissite.org hackers arnt bad, those are "crakers" who are mindless morons, you sir are the idiot, you trust the media, you didnt research you are the bad one. i have hacked many things but, for good. are you saying a site about killing people becuse of there race and supports it should stay up?? is that better than hacking?? i have hacked a site like that and shut it down. think im bad? F*ck you!! i have broken some laws but, for good reasons, the government makes you think hacking is bad because the govrnment fears us, but us hackers dont fear them, so the government uses people whot think there hackers and shows them on tv then, people think thats what a hacker is. hacker acually means "one who is experienced in computers and problem solving" i think i have done good, and that i dont hack like black hats who are morons (pretty much "crackers") i hope i will change your opinion.

Opera

This is a reply to off-topic opera promotion on 4Chan's /comp/ and /g/

Opera sucks sure there's an ebuild for opera but it just get dropped to /opt, it's statically linked, and it's CLOSED SOURCE, which means that it is a BINARY package.

Operating Systems

The Mac is an majestic tower at sunset, hoarding scarlet from the setting sun. No apertures mar its austere beauty, and clouds of birds spiral around it, falling upward like scattering leaves.

Windows is an aging geisha with honeyed lips and lilac tongue, whispering her delights to you with hushed voice a melody of clear song. She coyly blinks as if you were her first, but many before have discovered the secrets that lie beneath her kimono.

Linux is a sheet of ice at the bottom of a jade vase. It is a whisper between the chirpings of crickets. It is the sunlight behind a gauzy cloud. It is a pearl nestled in the snow.

Perl

Perl is like being molested by your uncle. There's something off about him, but everyone regards him very highly, so you trust him, and then on a family camping trip out at Montauk Point he takes advantage of you. Years later, you accept and acknowledge what happened, but you still refuse to believe that he's scarred you, because that would put him in control, not you, and the last thing you want is a molester in control of your life -- but your denial doesn't make it the truth. You want to believe that deep down inside, Perl is a good person, and you see that Perl has very redeeming qualities, but you sit down to try and program Perl and all you can think of is that camel's hard, throbbing cock.

/prog/

Prog.jpg

HAHAHAHA
YOU THINK YOURE THOUGH UH ?
I HAVE ONE WORD FOR YOU
THE FORCED INDENTATION OF THE CODE
GET IT ?
I DONT THINK SO
YOU DONT KNOW ABOUT MY OTHER CAR I GUESS ?
ITS A CDR
AND IS PRONOUNCED ``CUDDER
OK YOU FUQIN ANGERED AN EXPERT PROGRAMMER
THIS IS /prog/
YOU ARE ALLOWED TO POST HERE ONLY IF YOU HAVE ACHIEVED SATORI
PROGRAMMING IS ALL ABOUT ``ABSTRACT BULLSHITE THAT YOU WILL NEVER COMPREHEND
I HAVE READ SICP
IF ITS NOT DONE YOU HAVE TO
TOO BAD RUBY ON RAILS IS SLOW AS FUCK
BBCODE AND ((SCHEME)) ARE THE ULTIMATE LANGUAGES
ALSO
WELCOME TO /prog/
EVERY THREAD WILL BE REPLIED TO
NO EXCEPTION

THE FORCED ISOLATION OF THE HIKKI

HAHAHAHA
YOU THINK YOURE THOUGH UH ?
I HAVE ONE WORD FOR YOU
THE FORCED ISOLATION OF THE HIKKI
GET IT ?
I DONT THINK SO
YOU DONT KNOW ABOUT MY WAIFU I GUESS ?
SHES 2D
AND IS NAMED ``ALICE
OK YOU FUQIN ANGERED AN EXPERT NEET
THIS IS /jp/
YOU ARE ALLOWED TO POST HERE ONLY IF YOU HAVE ACHIEVED RONERY
LONELINESS IS ALL ABOUT ``ABSTRACT BULLSHITE THAT YOU WILL NEVER COMPREHEND
I HAVE 1CC'D EVERY TOUHOU
IF ITS NOT DONE YOU HAVE TO
TOO BAD IT'S SHIT, RIGHT?
IT'S SHIT
ALSO
WELCOME TO /jp/
EVERY NORMAL WILL BE SHUNNED
NO EXCEPTION

Another Glitch in the Call

We don't need no indirection
We don't need no flow control
No data typing or declarations
Hey! did you leave the lists alone?
Chorus:
Oh No. It's just a pure LISP function call.

We don't need no compilation
We don't need no load control
No link edit for external bindings
Hey! did you leave that source alone?
(Chorus)

We don't need no side-effecting
We don't need no flow control
No global variables for execution
Hey! did you leave the args alone?
(Chorus)

We don't need no allocation
We don't need no special-nodes
No dark bit-flipping for debugging
Hey! did you leave those bits alone?
(Chorus)
-- "Another Glitch in the Call", a la Pink Floyd

Do You Believe In Magic

"Please... please let me go ze~"

The black-white pleaded to the rainbow magician; while battling the forceful urge within her, Marisa begged again. With tears in her eyes, her actions were simply ignored by an apathetic Alice; sitting not even five feet away and reading a book, peering out the corner of her eye at the witch's struggle. Her many dolls completely restricting Marisa's movement in her time of desperation.

"You must..." the witch whined, "please, release your dolls! I can't take it much more..."

Alice remained idle and flipped a page in her book. The pressure within the Marisa grew greater with every passing second, a force that she could never prevent merely with knowledge and wit.

"I... beg of you... please..." a mixture of tears and sweat streamed from the witch's face and made its way to the magician's wooden floor.

"I... I..." with her last shred of willpower, Marisa fell to the floor. With her face down, in a shameless admit of defeat, a puddle formed from under her; the liquid passing through the thin fabric and drenched her dress within mere seconds. A smirk appeared on Alice's face as the liquid expanded on her floor and made it's way up Marisa's body; the magician placed her book down and walked passed the witch, stepping in the shallow puddle of Marisa's urine.

"I hate you... you damn bitch." With her head still facing the floor, tears multiplied in the witch's eyes and diffused with liquid she exerted moments ago. Whelps and sobs came from Marisa's mouth along with mumbles of "damn Alice..." and "I'll never forgive you."

The magician walked back into the room and tapped the witch on the shoulder; looking up, she saw Alice's hand reaching out. Knowing she couldn't continue to wallow in her piss, she picked herself up and hung her head as Alice lead her to another room.

In Alice's bedroom with the door shut behind them, the magician began to remove the soiled dress of the witch; however, she was met with a forceful hand.

"What are you doing ze~? I don't need your help," muddled Marisa with the slightest hint of red in her cheek. "I can do this myself. Also, what are those things..." she pointed to her bed. Alice picked up one of the white objects; "those can't be..." the magician nodded.

Marisa signed with a hint of disgust, "You get weirder everyday, doll freak..." A thought occurred. "Hey, wait, why do you even have those things?" Hesitant, Alice lifted her skirt and revealed that she herself was wearing a diaper. Despite the humility that bestowed onto Marisa minutes ago, a smile came to her face. "So it is true, you do lea..."

Alice forcefully grunted and a trio of dolls surrounded the witch. One quickly flew behind Marisa and untied her apron and the other two grabbed the straps of her dress and lifted it over her head; the dolls then flew off with the garments. Before the black-white had a chance to fight it, she stood in Alice's bedroom with nothing but her shirt and soaked bloomers.

Alice, face redden, placed her hand on the witch's shoulders and led her to her bed. Marisa, unsure of what she should do, was forcefully seated on the edge and pushed back by the doll otaku.

Alice excitingly placed her fingers on the witch's waist; as she was about to pull down her bloomers, the magician was met with Marisa's grasp.

"No, ze~. Don't you dare do that." Just then, a group of dolls flew onto Marisa and restrained her arms and legs once again. "Dammit, ze~; let me go!" Alice ignored the demand and pulled down the wet bloomers. Staring at what was now exposed, trickles of blood dripped from the magician's nose.

"You sad, lonely freak." Marisa remarked as it was all she could do. Wiping the drippings of passion from her face, she slid the diaper under Marisa. Sprinkling a blot of powder onto the area, she quickly taped the garment into position before she fainted from blood loss.

Regaining her composure, Alice witnessed what she had accomplished and let out a delightful smile. Flushed with redness, she placed her face next to Marisa's and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Then with a soft giggle, she slowly walked toward the door.

"I'll make some tea and cakes." The dollmaster opened the door and exited the room; her minions release their grasp on the witch and followed.

Marisa sat up, hearing the unfamiliar crinkle as Alice's success, and pondered what the magician really meant to her.

Suddenly, a huge black snake head with retarded-looking eyes materialized in front of them, and in a loud booming hiss, asked "Have you read your SICP today?"

The surroundings faded into blackness and within a few moments the group found themselves seated in a lecture hall at MIT, amongst several dozen other students. "Welcome to 6.001" was written on the blackboard, and Professor Gerald Jay Sussman walked into the room, dressed in his robe and wizard hat.

"Is this a hack?" he asked as he glanced around and saw the witch, the magician, Alice, and Marisa.

"What...?" Marisa managed to say, all of the confused by what had just happened.

"Nevermind, let's start the lecture." The Sussman said softly.

"I'd like to welcome you to this course on computer science. ... Actually, it's a terrible way to start. Computer science is a terrible name for this business. First of all it's not a science." The Sussman lectured while the students sat and listened attentively.

"What's going on?" Alice whispered to Marisa.

"I have no idea. But this is getting interesting."

"Or we'll actually see that computer... so-called science actually has a lot in common with magic." The Sussman continued.

"But... how can he do that? He's only a human, right?" the witch whispered.

The Sussman, who up until now had paid no attention to the group, turned and stared at the witch with an astonished expression.

"What did you just say?" he asked, pointing his wand at the witch.

All of the other students turned in the direction of the group.

"Nothing," she answered quietly.

"I hope so," The Sussman said in stern tone, ending his pointing with the wand.

"And... well I guess you know everyone needs a magical language and sorcerers, right, real sorcerers use ancient Arcadian, or Sumerian, or Babylonian or whatever. We're gonna control our spirits in a magical language called LISP, which is a language designed for talking about... for casting the spells that are procedures to direct the processes," the Sussman continued, waving his wand around as he spoke.

"What a disappointment. I thought he was going to teach us magic," Marisa muttered almost inaudibly.

The Jungle Book

The Sussman sat on his wizard throne, still donning his standard wizard hat and robe, which was still dripping from the shower in which he put them on. As he stroked his neckbeard he pondered the things which the Satori ponder. Beneath his feet lay the broken fragments of the python, the foul demon summoned by the Sussman’s nemesis and anticudder Abelson, then slain by the worthy and brave Haskell nomads.

The nomads were not there on this dark day, however. There had been a rumors of Guido in the forests of the north, who was suspected to be developing a new, even more woesome and fail snake to do battle with the almighty Satori. They had pursued the Guido over 9000 times in the past, only to turn up nothing in each adventure. That fucking Guido was sneaky like a fucking snake.

The Sussman stoked his wizard beard as he hummed the tune to SICP… today would be a well-balanced parenthesis.

Cons turned to Cudder, “Report?” Cudder was dressed in the standard garb of the Haskell nomads - relatively light armor gilded with the holy symbols of Haskell. The Nomads didn’t need much armor - they traveled fast and they traveled hard, almost as hard as the Sussman rides your sister’s ass every night when you’re alone in your room whacking off to the sacred tomes. And they were armed to the teeth. They provided a deterministic and constant effect to the battle, such that their arrival could almost be curried to optimize the battle’s execution speed and bring it to a quick close.

“Nothing sir, the eastern quadrant appears to be empty. Not a thing could be found.”

Cons, without even having to ponder this responded, “Excellent. check the other three quadrants; if anything is found recursively subdivide and search until we’ve harrowed the location down to a single square inch.”

“Yessir!”

Discipline was tight in the Haskell nomads. If a given expression did not behave deterministically he had to be wrapped up in the shroud of the monad and returned to the homelands after a ritualistic suicide - they couldn’t afford to have monads in their tight-knit battle group. It just wasn’t acceptable.

They had had to perform a ceremony just the previous week. One of their dear comrades, Reed, had begun to perform differently from usual. A cursory inspection revealed that he had was indeed infected with the deadly disease and dispatched accordingly. Cons stoked his neckbeard. Reed was gone, celebrating the afterlife with the Lambda of Plenty.

His thoughts were interrupted suddenly by a bang!

“THE CAMLS!”, someone shouted.

“Damn,” Cons thought, “those fucking Camls and their fucking imperative features polluting the noble concept of functionality.” The Caml may have once been a noble race, but no one remembered such a time. Their syntactical swords were riddled with a chaotic mix of operators, a cacophony with few peers (Perl is among them).

Cons drew his two beautifully forged parenthesizes from their sheathes, the air filling with a glorious ring. Normally a weapon not wielded by the nomads, he had been gifted the pair b the Sussman himself and learned to use them well.

An Ocaml warrior suddenly jumped out and threw a malformed interrobang in an attempt to corrupt Con’s deterministic purity by destructively assigning his state with referential transparency (a black magic considered one of the darker evils from the depths of hell). Cons took up his parenthesis and swiped at the Caml with a quickly-crafted lambda function, but the Caml inferred the type of attack and was successfully able to evade any side effects. He didn’t notice, however, that Cons’ intention was not to slay him with the lambda but rather to incorporate the lambda into a foldl incantation to collapse the Ocaml’s state into a single return value. The Ocaml let out a scream as the tail-recursive function produced a single value from his state without any side-effects: -3.

Quite a weak Ocaml, Cons thought to himself. He glanced around at his comrades; for the most part they handled themselves well. The attack, though sudden was fairly small, most of the remaining Ocamls not dead were either dying or attempting to exit the current execution context. His subordinates hadn’t taken much damage though, one had been expanded into an array and then operated on in-place. Cons shook his head; it was a terrible torturous way to die, but honorable nonetheless.

Back at MIT, the Sussman was eating a tuna fish sandwich, something reserved for the aristocracy. The catchphrase on the can read, “You cannot tune a filesystem, but you can eat a tunafish sandwich!” It wasn’t very well-received, of course, but it was well-enough known at this point to remain.

The Sussman munched on the delicious, moist tuna thoughtfully when all of a sudden he sensed behind hi a list comprehension. THE ABELSON! The Sussman leaped out of his seat, his wizard hat almost flying off his head (it was kept on by a quick (def (f x y) (f y x))).

And just in time - the Abelson’s blow, intended to truncate the Sussman’s tuna-filled spleen his the wooden wizard chair, which shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Well, well Sussman, I see you’ve maintained some of your skills from 6.001. You may have dodged that expression, but how long do you think you can hold out against my Python3000?”

“THREE THOUSAND?!” the Sussman shouted in response, cackling. “You never understood, Hal; you couldn’t defeat me with PythonOver9000.”

“What are you talking about Gerry. I’ve seen your powe–” he stopped, mouth agape as the sudden realization dawned over him. “NO, IT CANNOT BE!”

“YES. YOUR SUSPICIONS ARE CORRECT, HAL. I’VE BEEN SUPPRESSING MY POWER LEVEL.”

“HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE??!” Hal shouted. In desperation, the Abelson hurled a fury of list comprehensions, dictionaries and exceptions at the Sussman, but Gerry easily knocked aside the feeble incantations.

“You never understood, Hal,” he chastised as he prepared his final attack, “it was always as simple as EVAL-APPLY!!!!!!!” he shouted as he unleashed the ultimate spell at the Abelson.

The world froze.

Few people have ever seen a spell of such power; few people could even wield it and even fewer were willing to use it. In this terrible, suspenseful moment, the world froze. Completely. This isn’t just a literary artifact, something had segfaulted.

Sepples took a look at the screen. “Motherfucker!” he swore. Somebody had been running a fucking Ruby interpreter, which has exhausted not only the machine’s physical memory, but also used up all the allocated swap space. He’d have to reboot the system from the last savestate and re-run the computation another day.

Shit.

Los Cuatro Ingenieros

There are four engineers travelling in a car -- a mechanical engineer, a chemical engineer, an electrical engineer, and a computer scientist. The car breaks down.

"Sounds to me as if the pistons have seized. We'll have to strip down the engine before we can get the car working again", says the mechanical engineer.

"Well", says the chemical engineer, "it sounded to me as if the fuel might be contaminated. I think we should clear out the fuel system."

"I thought it might be an grounding problem", says the electrical engineer, "or maybe a faulty plug lead."

They all turn to the computer scientist, who up to then had reading his first edition SICP, and asked "Well, what do you think?"

"..."

"Ahem, Dr. Sussman?"

have you read your sicp today

I had a strange dream the other day. I was riding the bus when all of a sudden this huge black snake head with retarded-looking eyes pops through the window and screams loudly "HAVE YOU READ YOUR SICP TODAY?" The bus had just stopped beside the library, and I ran inside as quickly as possible; the snake head was now chasing me around as I frantically searched for the legendary book among the shelves. I spotted the distinctive blue cover and ran toward it, the huge head inches from my ass. With great force I pulled the book from the shelf and instinctively directed it at the black head which by now was dripping with saliva at the mouth. It disappeared as it made contact with the book, disintegrating into a flurry of glowing parentheses.

I just sat there dazed for a few seconds, watching the feathery parehtneses slowly become smaller and fade away into nothingness. Slowly, I stood up, still clutching the purple book. I wondered about what I should do with it, then decided to put it back on the shelf. After doing so, I walked back out to the exit and boarded a bus, for where I did not know. The bus driver looked strangely familiar as I dropped the coins into the farebox;

"HAVE YOU READ YOUR SICP TODAY?" he suddenly yelled at me. Oh fuck, I thought to myself. Now I knew why he looked so familiar: He was The Sussman!

Thank you, SICP

I am a computer programmer, which means I'm fat, nerdy, and have a tiny cock. I got AIDS from paying a cheap whore to fuck me, since I have no love in my life.
When the doctor told me, I went to the only thing I knew -- SICP.
I slammed my penis between two copies of SICP. It swelled up to twice normal size and fell off. I was worried.
I woke up the next day with incredible abs, a 14" rod of steel, and no HIV. I'm now an adult movie star, banging porn stars.
Thank you, SICP!

The Snake

On one stormy night, the sky bright with thunder
knock knock at the door - who is that, I ponder
I dash to the gate, open it, I sunder
'tis a filthy snake, at my mat, down under!
I speak carefully, not to make a blunder:

``who be thee, thou spawn of evil?
beast from before medieval
serpent! the tempter primeval!
-- in my soul a great upheaval
``demon! how come you were tapping?
at my door so gently rapping?
limbless, cursed to move by wrapping!

The slimy beast hissed, and so before my eyes
I beheld a man - in appearance so wise
I recognised him, now without the disguise
My throat unleashing so desperate cries:

``Infidel! Once a great wizard,
now a slimy tricky lizard
stealing through the flames and blizzard
what be thy business, ex-wizard?

Thus he spake, the voice bestowed:
``son, you walk the evil road
all what I have you once shown
all what you thanks to me own
now shall within you explode
and have I so forebode:
not through Scheme does point the road
in my mind had always flowed:
FORCED INDENTATION OF CODE

The Sussman

I could feel Asakura lifting her knife up. Where would she start? The throat arteries, heart? If I knew how I was going to die, I could at least be prepared. At least let me close my eyes...what's this!?

I suddenly felt the air shake. The knife began to fall upon me... At this moment, the ceiling gave out a loud cracking noise, followed by debris falling down. A loud booming hiss which seemed to sound like "Have you read your SICP today?" filled the air. I lifted my head and discovered... Standing in front, catching the blade with his crotch-snake, was the robed figure of The Sussman.

"You and your forced indentation." The Sussman said in his usual expressionless tone, "You think you can defy my power?"

"You want to get in my way?" Asakura sounded calm. "Once I kill this person, Suzumiya Haruhi is bound to have some sort of reaction. Only then can we obtain more cudders."
"You are supposed to be my backup." The Sussman said in a mantra-like tone, "This sort of insubordination is forbidden; you must obey my commands."

"What if I refuse?"
"Then I will send you to the land of Java."
"Would you like to try? I have the advantage here, since this classroom belongs to MIT."
The Sussman removed his wizard hat and set it on the floor before removing a wand from a pocket on his robe. He pointed it at the knife in her hand and murmured. Shortly after, it started glowing brightly. Then, like the sugar cube being placed into a cup of tea, it slowly crystallized and dissolved and fell towards the floor like powder.

Asakura released the knife and jumped five meters away. Opening up the distance in an instant, Asakura landed elegantly and continued smiling as usual. The Sussman raised his wand and pointed it directly at the ceiling, not taking his eyes off Asakura. The wand released a wave of glowing white parentheses and the space around The Sussman began to distort.

"It's time for some ENTERPRISE QUALITY!" Asakura cheerfully cried as she conjured the spirits of the JVM, producing a flood of boiling-hot coffee that rushed its way towards The Sussman, who stood motionless, parentheses continuing to issue from his wand like electromagnetic radiation. "You think your turkey solutions can stop me?" The Sussman said calmly before lowering his wand, forming the pool of parentheses now gathered around him into a sharp pointed cone aimed at Asakura. Suddenly he shouted "LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISP!" and the parentheses shot forward into the waves of coffee, pushing the boiling hot liquid back towards where it came.

"Nooooooo....." her cries became weaker as she became engulfed in the dark brown liquid. Everything turned black and I felt as though I had fainted. I awoke to a familiar voice.

"...before we do that for the next couple of lectures we're gonna be talking about..."

I opened my eyes and raised my head to find myself seated in a lecture theater. I glanced at the clock and found that I had missed most of the lecture. "Damnit! I was looking forward to the first lecture of the last semester of 6.001!" I thought to myself.

"Umm... no," I responded weakly. Suddenly his head looked a lot darker than it was a moment ago, and an evil grin appeared across his face. The bus's doors slammed shut and The Sussman's face turned an almost negroid black. His left hand shot at me and I could see that it was not a hand, but the head of a snake which protruded from its end. I turned around and ran towards the back of the articulated bus. "Let me show you the power of Satori," The Sussman said in a deep hiss. His snakelike arm extended from his body towards me as I continued to run for what seemed like eternity towards the longbus's rear door.

"Longbus is loooooooooooooooooooooong", I thought to myself as I continued to run, the snake's head fast approaching. The bus seemed to go on forever. After a while, I passed the driver's seat. WTF, I thought. Ahead of me was The Sussman, standing in the aisle facing the same direction as me, with his left arm pointed forward.

I looked behind me, and saw the snake head was still approaching; I had managed to outrun it for a bit, and it was racing towards me. RECURSION! I jumped into the stepwell just as the head gained a sudden burst of speed, piercing through The Sussman and sending bright glowing parentheses everywhere. I watched first his body, then his hands disintegrate in the same manner that the head had earlier. The long black arm, floating in mid-air, slowly disappeared into a cloud of these glowing parentheses, and the snake's head, which I now noticed had come through the windscreen along with me, did the same after a few moments.

I stepped over to the driver's seat, looking for the door release switch. I found what appeared to be the switch and toggled it, but the doors did not open. Shortly after, a low hissing sound emanated from the bus itself, followed by the loud booming cry of "HAVE YOU READ YOUR SICP TODAY?", which felt as if it was coming from inside my head. Suddenly everything turned black.

I awoke to find myself still inside that mysterious bus, which was completely empty. The engine was still running, and it was still parked outside the library. "The library! Of course!" I thought to myself. As if my mind had been read, the front doors swung open and I ran from the bus toward the library, which also looked empty. I entered the building and frantically ran to where I had found the prized book earlier. The book was still there, and I grabbed it instinctively, then walked to the checkout. All but one counter was open, and there was a little Asian girl standing there; the place was deserted except for me and her. I put the book on the counter and she looked at it for a moment, then at me. "Have you read your SICP today?" she asked.

"You too?" I replied. "Have some tits and then GTFO and read your SICP!", she angrily shouted, then pulled up her shirt to show me her tits. She shoved the book into my hands and then disappeared spontaneously.

I left the library, and waited at the bus stop. The previous bus was no longer there. The girl I saw earlier walked up to me and looked at the Wizard Book I was holding, then glanced down at my crotch.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING STANDING THERE LIKE AN IDIOT? READ IT!" she suddenly shouted. Astounded, I quickly opened the book and started to read the first chapter. I was so intrigued by the book that I didn't notice she had begun to give me a blowjob. When I looked down, she took her mouth from my cock to angrily shout "GO BACK TO READING YOUR SICP" and so I did. I didn't even notice that I came until after she told me to stop reading. A short while later, the bus arrived.

You have read your SICP today

Suddenly, a huge black snake head with retarded-looking eyes materialized in front of them and stared menacingly. In a loud booming voice, it asked "HAVE YOU READ YOUR SICP TODAY?" and everything turned black.

When they woke up, they found themselves sitting in a lecture hall at MIT, amonst several dozen other students. "Welcome to 6.001" was written on the board. Professor Gerald Jay Sussman walked into the room, wearing his robe and wizard hat.

"Is this a hack?" he asked as he glanced around and saw the strangely-dressed group, shocked and staring back at him.

"What...?" Patchouli managed to say, all of them confused and unable to understand what had just happened.

"Nevermind, let's start the lecture." The Sussman said softly.

"I'd like to welcome you to this course on computer science. ... Actually, it's a terrible way to start. Computer science is a terrible name for this business. First of all it's not a science." The Sussman lectured while the students sat and listened attentively.

"What's going on?" Koakuma whispered to Patchouli.

"I have no idea. But this is getting interesting."

"Or we'll actually see that computer... so-called science actually has a lot in common with magic." The Sussman continued.

"So procedures are the spells if you like that control these magical spirits that are the processes."

The Sussman produced a wand and waved it in the air, muttering to himself. A bright flash of light filled the room, and a stream of glowing parentheses shot out the end of the wand, dissappearing into the air. The students applauded loudly.

"But... how can he do that? He's only a human, right?" Koakuma whispered.

The Sussman, who up until now had paid no attention to the group, turned and stared at her with an astonished expression.

"What did you just say?" he asked, pointing his wand at her.

"And... well I guess you know everyone needs a magical language and sorcerers, right, real sorcerers use ancient Arcadian, or Sumerian, or Babylonian or whatever. We're gonna control our spirits in a magical language called LISP, which is a language designed for talking about... for casting the spells that are procedures to direct the processes," the Sussman continued, moving his hands in a series of complex movements as he spoke.

"What a disappointment. I thought he was going to teach us magic," Patchouli muttered almost inaudibly.

Once again, the Sussman quickly turned and stared at her, retrieving his wand and pointing at her with it.

"Excuse me?" he asked, "What did you say again?"

"Nothing," she replied, trying to avoid attention.

"No, I'm pretty sure you said something. Please repeat it for us, so as not to miss a fine learning opportunity."

"She said, 'What a disappointment. I thought he was going to teach us magic'," Koakuma exclaimed. At the sound of those words the Sussman's face turned a bright red.

"HOW DARE YOU DOUBT ME!!" The Sussman shouted angrily. "By the power of the Y combinator I send thee to the land of Java!"

"Now perish!" The Sussman shouted, conjuring a huge pair of parentheses from his wand, which surrounded the group and enveloped them in a closure.

"What do we do now?!?!" Koakuma screamed at Patchouli. "I don't know!" she shouted angrily in reply as the both of them hammered as hard as they could against the invisible, unyielding walls of the closure.

"I hope you learned your lesson, freaks!" The Sussman exclaimed, as the closure rose up towards the ceiling with the two trapped inside, exploding into a shower of white parentheses as it hit the top. The Sussman returned the wand to his pocket and continued lecturing.

...

"Where... are we?" Koakuma whispered as she opened her eyes to find Patchouli lying next to her.

"I think that guy said something about the 'land of Java'" Patchouli said in a low voice as they both sat up to find themselves in an empty office cubicle. The sound of mouse clicks and typing could be heard coming from around them.

They cautiously walked towards the opening of the cubicle, which lead to a long, brightly lit hallway that seemed to go on forever.

"Let's find a way out of this place," Koakuma said.

They walked into the cubicle beside the one they respawned in, but it wasn't empty; there was a desk, a computer, and an expressionless, bald man with startingly white skin sat there, staring into the monitor and pressing the keys frantically. They could see he was playing Perfect Cherry Blossom.

"Umm... excuse me? Could you ---" Koakuma began.

The man remained focused on the game.

"Hello?!?!" Patchouli screamed at him while waving her arms across his eyes. The man remained undisturbed, and continued to graze with astonishing accuracy. Even when she covered her eyes completely he did not miss at all.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" she exclaimed, kicking him and then the monitor; but nothing refused to move --- it was as if there was a barrier surrounding him.

Seeing that nothing in the cubicle would respond to their attempts at moving or destroying it, they gave up and walked out into the hallway.

"This place sure is wierd," Patchouli commented sadly, "let's see what's in the other ones."

They visited several more cubicles, but the situation was the same; in each one was a man playing one of the Touhou series, and none of them could be disturbed by anything they did. After a while, it became apparent that almost every one of the cubicles was identical, and the hallway seemed to go on forever in either direction.

They continued to walk in silence, looking into the cubicles on either side for any sign of escape. One of them seemed to be empty except for a single purple book lying exactly in the middle, and aligned perfectly with the four walls.

"This one's different! But... what can we do?" Koakuma said as they entered it.

Patchouli reached for the book, and to their surprise it moved with her touch. She picked it up and turned it over.

On the cover was a picture of a wizard and the words "Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs".

"Structure and Inter--- wait, is this the SICP that snake mentioned before we ---" Koakuma exclaimed.

"I think I remember now!" Patchouli shouted excitedly. "It said something about reading SICP!" She opened it and turned to the first chapter.

They started reading the first chapter, and just as they finished the first section, the lights of the cubicle flickered and the two of them were once again immersed in darkness.

"What now?" Koakuma asked, "didn't we read it?"

A deep rumbling sound was heard, and the floor began to shake. They held onto each other as they felt themselves falling through it, then fainting.

They woke up to find that they were back where they started, and the huge black snake head was still staring at them. Patchouli continued to hold the purple book tightly against her chest.

"You have read your SICP today", the head hissed before disappearing into the air.

Windows 7

Billy: Hey dad, whats an operating system supposed to do?

Dad: Well Billy, an operating system is supposed to provide an environment where many different kinds of software can run well.

Billy: But Linux, OSX, and Windows 7 do that well! How do I decide?

Dad: Well Billy, you have to now assess what kind of software you're going to be using. Which OS looks the most appropriate now?

Billy: Well, OSX is good for graphic design, but nearly all of its programs also run on Windows 7 or have comparable software also for Windows 7. Linux has a lot of great software, but just can't really compete really with the huge libraries of software for Macs and Windows.

But in terms of number of software available, Windows 7 seems to have the most. It also runs new and upcoming games, and also runs classic PC games while XP is left in the dust without DX10.

Dad: There you have it son, Windows 7, which is an operating system, runs FUCKING EVERYTHING!!!!

SO STOP BITCHING UNTIL THE OTHER OPERATING SYSTEMS CAN COMPETE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

XBox vs. PC

PCs are for sad geeks who have no life.

Game consoles are for those who want to entertain themselves.

I once tried using a PC - it was an absolute nightmare! (those who create these various versions don't exactly make them for the novice; they wrongly assume EVERYONE is a Geek) And using it was WORSE!!! Besides, I've ALWAYS used XBox, and it's too late to teach this old dog new tricks. And when PCs become as easy to use as XBox, games are as easy to load into PC as it is for XBox, and there's Halo 2 ported to PC (or better still, XBox games are compatible with PC), THEN I'll use it And You PC-ers DARE to accuse Bill Gates of being the 'Antichrist'?! At least he makes his game consoles EASY to buy & use!!!

So, until then, I say:

GET THEE BEHIND ME, PC-SATAN!!!

Rape

Definition of Rape

LIPMAN IS wrong when she defends the use of the verb "to pimp" as a minor infraction. That the word is evolving to mean, say, to use someone for one's own gain or benefit (or to decorate garishly), leaves us with a linguistic problem: What are we going to call the man who is still using violence to force a woman to be a prostitute for his financial benefit?

Using the word in casual conversation implies that pimping someone out has become a casual event. This is part of a larger change in the language that involves casually using words with negative connotations about women. Don Imus calling basketball players "hos" erases the distinction between women who sell sex and all women. I frequently correct my high school students who say, when they win a basketball game by a large margin, that they "raped" the other team, because they diminish the horrible nature of rape into a sports competition with a winner and a loser. These changes reflect anti-women sentiments that may be growing among younger men – or at least that are being expressed casually and unthinkingly. They're not minor changes.

Jewish Anal Rape of Doom

One day when I was 7 I was walking home from school, being all aryan and white, when all of a sudden an evil jew jumped out of
the bushes.
"Torah! Torah!", he shouted in hebrew, all jewish and shit. Then he grabbed me with his evil jew hands and dragged me through the
bushes and laid me down onto the grass beneath him. I struggled with all my aryan might, but his strong, hairy, manly arms
held me firm to the ground.
"Today I will have you recieve the old testament.", he told me, unnzipping his jew-pants. I marvelled before his testament. I had
never seen such a thick and immense testament before.
"Suck it!", he ordered me, forcing it deep into my defenseless aryan throat. "Torah! Torah!" I gasped for air as the hairy man had
his way with me, plunging the shaft of his testament even deeper into my innocent throat, and I could do nothing but serve him.
"I see you like the shaft of my testament deep inside of you. Now lets see how you like it up your pinky white bum!"
"Oh, no, mr jew!", I cried out. "Not my tender white aryan bum!"
...but this jew knew no mercy as he turned me around, and soon he plowed into me, filling me up in ways I could never even have
imagined. I completely lost my breath as he pounded my soft like aryan ass with his thick and hard man-shaft. I found myself
groaning for every breath as his strokes reached deep inside of me, filling me with a sensation so overwhelming that I could
hardly think.
"Do you enjoy having your innocent aryan ass being ravaged by my hard jew cock?", my jew smirked evilishly. I could hardly reply,
gasping for air with his every thrust.
Then his panting increased too, until he penetrated me like never before, burying his the full length of his hot testament deep
inside of me. He gripped me firmly and I could feel the shaft of it pumping still, filling my soft, tight ass with his
jewishness. It was nothing I could do but climax myself, my body responding to his. I wished it would never stop. I had finally
found my master race.

Rape, no such thing

There is no such thing as rape.jpg

There is no such thing as rape. Any female who leaves her rightful place in the house and the kitchen is fucking begging for cock in her holes. If she gets the cock she so badly is asking for, it's not fucking rape, it's a damn slut getting what she fucking deserves.

Males still rule this fucking world. In most of the world, a fucking bitch can get killed for looking at a man straight in the eye. In America and Europe, every day dumb sluts get their holes penetrated without their so-called consent, which isn't rape, just them getting the fucking dick they deserve up their asses.

Sexual abuse is on the rise, spousal abuse is on the rise and more bitches die every year. Fucking cunts. I am so glad I was born a man. I am so glad there is a bunch of retarded sluts jumping trough hoops just to get my cock.

Haha, females are so fucking sad. We treat you bitches like shit, and you still spend time, money and effort on trying to look good for us. Way to be a good slave, whores. Now keep acting like sluts and sucking our cocks. And if you change your mind after you leave the house, too fucking bad, you're getting your holes fucked and there isn't shit you can do about it because that's your only fucking purpose in life.

RAPE IS NOT FUCKING FUNNY

Rapeisnotfunny.jpg

Okay, I am fucking sick and fucking tired of these fucking threads about rape! RAPE IS NOT FUCKING FUNNY! Joke about anything else you want, /b/...

Joke about cp, joke about loli, joke about murder, joke about drugs, but DON'T FUCKING JOKE ABOUT RAPE! Rape DESTROYS a woman, it STRIPS HER OF HER HUMANITY! It is disgusting, inhumane, regressive and insane. RAPE IS OFF THE FUCKING TABLE, /b/, NOT EVEN YOU FUCKING VIRGIN ASSHOLES CAN BE SUCH FUCKHOLES THAT YOU JOKE ABOUT A WOMAN'S WOMANHOOD BEING VIOLATED!

And no, I am not some lesbian dyke cunt, I am a woman, I was raped. My virginity was taken from me, I can never give it to a man I love. I was raped again and again and again and again and again by a random stranger when I was 15, I wanted to fucking kill my fucking self. IS THAT FUCKING FUNNY? FUCK NO YOU FUCKHOLES!

Go back to making Fresh Prince threads, /b/, you fucking aardvarks

Raping By Candlejack

Dear /b/,

This is a true story and one that was been haunting me for quite sometime.

When I was nine years old my babysitter raped me. My parents would often go out for dinners and parties on the weekdays when I was a kid and they would always ask our next-door neighbor, Jack, to watch me when they were out. Jack and I had a lot of fun together he was a really good guy, he was on the football team, and honors roll. But one day we were playing hide and go seek and I decided to hide in the basement.

I ran downstairs to out basement that doubled as a study and a library. There was one desk in the middle of the room, which my mother always liked to keep candles on to read by. I dove under the desk giggling to myself thinking jack would never find me. Jack took awhile to come down stairs and when he finally did I fell silent and held my breath as he began to search the basement. When he finally looked under the desk I realized that he was not wearing any clothing.

He found me and looked at me with the most suggestive eyes I’d ever seen. I was too scared to scream but at the same time comforted by them. Jack then ripped me out from under the desk and through me on top of it. He started tearing away at my clothing trying to get to my naked body. I wanted him to stop and in an effort to get him off of me I hit him with a candle. Jack was determined to have me though and continu

Room mate

Hai /b/

I have a problem.

I live with a girl. We live in a small 2 bedroom apartment. I kind of like her and she kind of likes me back, there is def. something going on between us. Well, about 2 weeks ago, I couldn't help myself, so i went into her bedroom and masturbated over her sleeping body (she sleeps in this kinky teddy..HAWT) Well, I started doing it every night, then last night, I went into her room like usual and started masturbating only to find out that she was awake! I almost ran out of the room and but she stopped me and said that she knew I had been doing it for the past week! I was really embarassed. I couldn't say anything, until she asked "so are you gonna fucking me instead of FAPPIN' off to me?" I couldn't believe it! I went over and got in bed with her and we fucked most of the night! The next morning, I was awoken by her screaming. She didn't know why I was in her bed. On top of that she thinks I raped her in her sleep! Now she's crying and threatening to call the cops on me!

/b/, my old and trusted friend, what should I do???

Willy Wonka and the Rape Factory

"No. Not tonight," Charlie cried as he buried his tears in his pillow.

"Oh yes, tonight. Tonight, just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and a hundred nights stretching before that ending at the day you came to live with me. Tonight, just like tomorrow." And with that, Willy Wonka removed his pants with a smirk. Usually, Charlie's parents and grandparents had been forced to watch, but Willy had killed them all and used their remains as seasoning for a new type of candy, Scrumdidllyumptious Green Soylet Surprise. Tonight would be Charlie's first night alone.

"Please, Mr. Wonka, please don't!" Charlie gave out one last sob of beligerrence, but the Candyman tore off the young boy's trousers with no senses of regret. "Let's see, what do we have hear today? Is there a treat for me? I most certainly hope there is," said Mr.Wonka as we delved his thumb and two fingers into Charlie's anus. Forcing them in until they were at the knuckle, Willy moved his hand around, as if he was searching for something. Then, his hand stopped, suddenly.

"EUREKA! I found it!" Removing his fingers, Charlie saw that firmly clutched in Mr. Wonka's hand was an everlasting gobstopper that Wonka had placed in there last night. Taking a lick, Mr. Wonka declared "It tastes just as delicious as the day I made it, although I don't know how I got so much corn on the shell formula." Wonka said the last line with a wink at Charlie, as if he expected him to laugh.

"Oh well, time for business." And with that, Willy Wonka dropped the gobstopper to his side and began to slide his PENIS into Charlie's now-loose asshole. Charlie let out a small tear and he began to grunt with every thrust. He must escape this madness. He must kill Willy Wonka.

But there were no knives in his home, in his prison. There were no guns or swords or matches, or anything. Everything that was needed was done for you by an oompa-loompa.

"Charlie, in a few minutes I'm going to place this in your mouth. I think you should like it, it's flavored with an exlusive mix of Charlie Bucket chocolate. Thanks for not wiping, baby."

Charlie had given himself poor anal hygeiene in an attempt to scare Wonka away, but Willy ignored it and fucked him all the same, except now with more facials.

Charlie desperatly wanted out of this hell, and by now he was willing to go through any plan he could in order to escape. And that's when he saw it. Next to Wonka's shaking knees was a gobstopper. Charlie moved his hands back as if to play with Willy, but as soon as he was close enough, he grabbed the gobstopper and swallowed it hole. The taste was revolting, but he had grown used to the taste and smell of his own anal production, so it passed into his throat with no problem. And in his throat is where it lodged.

By the time Willy Wonka had figured out Charlie was dead, he had already came in the young child's asshole, wondering why the child did not let loose a barage of tears telling him to pull out.

Placing his PENIS in Charlie's mouth, he noticed the boy's flesh to be unusually cold and his tongue to be unresponsive. Fucking him orally anyway, Willy Wonka knew exactly what to do with his apprentice.

He called out to the worker oompa-loompas and told them to take care of the body as they pleased, to which the oompa loompas chuckled and exchanged mischevious smiles. At once, he signaled for the Chief Loompa. Making motions, Wonka spoke to him.

"Another one has died."

"So, what should I do, sir?"

"Distribute the memory eraser chocolate, again,"

"And then, boss?"

"Tell the world that my factory is opening it's doors to the public after 15 years of life as a hermit. And make sure only boys find the gold this time."

Emo Space Guy

Emo MySpace Guy

Emo spacey guy.jpg

I'm very sad with my life, /b/. It's because I want a girlfriend.

I try to get together on girls on MySpace, but it always ended up to fail, and backstab me RIGHT IN THE HEART. And these girls would say stuff like, "Leave me alone", "I'm calling the police if you stalk me on MySpace one more time..", or "Ew, you're so emo. Get away from me, freak, I already have a boyfriend."

IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR, /B/. I WANT A GIRL WHO LOVES AND UNDERSTANDS ME SO FUCKING MUCH AND I CAN'T FIND HER. So that's why I'm looking around for other places.

By the way, this is me in the pic. The scar is from the pain I suffered.


Reply

Random board,

This is really me, Ryan, aka "Emo Myspace Guy" to some of you guys, and I just want to say whoever made that discussion board of me going all emo can DIE. The fucker has no right to make fun of my scar, it was a journey to hell and back from what I had to go through to live. Not only that, but I am NOT desperate for a girl. I don't need a girl at all.

And this is me in the picture, I took down the pictures of me shirtless because of you fuckers.


Fuck you, 4chan. kthxbai

Ryan Shoemaker

Bel Air

I'm very sad with my life, /b/. It's because I want a girlfriend.

I try to get together on girls on MySpace, but it always ended up to fail, and backstab me RIGHT IN THE HEART. And these girls would say stuff like, "Leave me alone", "I'm calling the police if you stalk me on MySpace one more time..", or "Ew, you're so emo. Get away from me, freak, I already have a boyfriend."

IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR, /B/. I WANT A GIRL WHO LOVES AND UNDERSTANDS ME SO FUCKING MUCH AND I CAN'T FIND HER. So that's why I whistled for a cab and when it came near The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror If anything I can say this cab is rare But I thought 'Now forget it' - 'Yo homes to Bel Air'

I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8 And I yelled to the cabbie 'Yo homes smell ya later' I looked at my kingdom I was finally there To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel Air.

By the way, this is me in the pic. The scar is from the pain I suffered.

Dexter's Secret

Dexters secret.jpg

I'm very sad with my life, /b/. It's because I want a COOKIE.

I try to get together on girls on MySpace, but it always ended up to THE FLORIDA EVERGLADES, I want a girlfriend, I want a girlfriend, I want a girlfriend, girlfriend, YUP, YUP, ARE YOU SNEAKING UP ON ME?! Get away from me, freak, YOU ARE A STUPID GIRL. GET OUT, freak, I already have A SECRET. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!

IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR, /B/. IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR, /B/. WORMS AND PLASTIC MINNOWS. A BLOCK OF CHEESE. DEXTER'S SECRET DEXTER'S SECRET DEXTER'S SECRET DEXTER'S SECRET DEXTER'S SECRET...

Emo Myspace Guy's Reply

Random board,

This is really me, Ryan, aka "Emo Myspace Guy" to some of you guys, and I just want to say whoever made that discussion board of me going all emo can DIE. The fucker has no right to make fun of my scar, it was a journey to hell and back from what I had to go through to live. Not only that, but I am NOT desperate for a girl. I don't need a girl at all.

And this is me in the picture, I took down the pictures of me shirtless because of you fuckers.


Fuck you, 4chan. kthxbai

Ryan Shoemaker

John Stalvern

Original

John Stalvern waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were demons in the base. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Cernel Joson were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.

John was a space marine for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the spaceships and he said to dad "I want to be on the ships daddy."

Dad said "No! You will BE KILL BY DEMONS"

There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the space station base of the UAC he knew there were demons.

"This is Joson" the radio crackered. "You must fight the demons!"

So John gotted his palsma rifle and blew up the wall.

"HE GOING TO KILL US" said the demons

"I will shoot at him" said the cyberdemon and he fired the rocket missiles. John plasmaed at him and tried to blew him up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.

"No! I must kill the demons" he shouted

The radio said "No, John. You are the demons"

And then John was a zombie.

The Proper Version

John Stalvern waited.

He was a space marine, one of Earth's finest. He'd been trained to give his all in service of his planet, to put his life on the line if necessary. He knew a dozen ways to kill a man with his bare hands, and twice as many ways to do it with a weapon. The concept of fear had been eradicated in him long ago by countless drills and exercises designed to burn away all that was weak and soft and human, leaving behind only a killing machine as sharp as a razor's blade.

The lights sparked fitfully once, twice, then went out, plunging the room into utter darkness.

Well. Almost eradicated.

He stifled the curses that struggled to leave his mouth; making too much noise in his situation would be like taping a neon sign on his back labeled Free Food. There were demons in the base - honest to God, motherfucking demons - and from what little he'd garnered on his short-range radio before it went dead, they weren't too friendly. The half-eaten corpses he'd found littered through the hallways only served to reinforce that image.

In a way, he supposed, he'd been expecting it for years. Not that there were going to be demons straight from Giger's worst nightmares rampant in the base, of course, but he'd known something was up the moment they'd started setting up the teleporter. His gut had warned him to be wary of the project, and it was no coincidence that he'd filed a transfer request for a planetside job less than a day after they announced a working prototype. Sure, a security job on Earth would pay less than duty in the UAC, but dead people had no use for money. He'd tried to warn his superior officers, but Colonel Joson had laughed off his misgivings and now the fucker was probably dead too.

Joson was a hard man, strict and fair but entirely too entrenched in his ways to believe a single grunt's superstitions. In a way, John supposed, Joson reminded him of his father. At least, before the man had taken a stray slug to the face when John was five. He'd survived through some sort of miracle, but the slug had nicked his brain and Steven Stalvern had never been quite the same man since.

"I wanna be on the ships, daddy," he'd said once, watching the gargantuan shuttles shriek through the air and escape the grasp of Earth's gravity. He'd been six then, still too young to realize that his father wasn't the man he'd grown up with for the first five years of his life. He remembered the sense of utter shock and fear he'd felt back then when his dad had whipped around, his eyes nearly bulging from his sockets. Fingers like claws had dug into his shoulders.

"No!" his father had shouted, his voice cracked with the beginnings of insanity. "You'll be killed by the demons!" Too frightened to do otherwise, John had believed him completely.

As he grew older and more experienced with the ways of the world, John had realized that his father was insane. His adoration had changed swiftly to fear, then disgust before finally settling on a sort of embarrassment. He supposed his insane father was part of the reason he'd applied to the space marines at the tender age of fourteen; a part of his mind had hoped to leave his father behind on Earth along with the painful memories of his childhood. Now he was in his late twenties, and for some reason his father's words came back unbidden.

He let a wry grin spread across his face. Crazy his old man might have been, but for once in his life he'd been right. There were demons in outer space.

John was abruptly jerked back to reality when his radio crackled loudly, the sound painfully loud in the silence. This time he did curse, quickly lowering the volume until only he could hear it. He'd thought his radio was dead, damn it!

"-is Joson," the radio said, the voice coming through it sounding oddly distorted, barely recognizable. It crackled unsteadily, and John could only make out bits of pieces of what it was saying. "You've got to-" Another bout of static. "Demons!"

"I can't hear you clearly, Joson," John said as loudly as he thought he could manage, then frowned as he shook the radio. It was dead again. After a moment he shrugged and put it out of his head; the radio had made too much noise and he had to move now unless he felt like being demon fodder sometime soon. He didn't have the time to ponder the mystery of a spontaneously dying radio, and Joson's orders had been clear enough. It was time to strike back.

Unslinging the plasma rifle strapped across his back, he held it in front of him and started walking cautiously through the halls, wishing with all his might that he had a pair of night-vision goggles. It was too dark to see anything, and the way the base's halls were built meant that sound conducted in strange ways.

Something growled beside him.

Conscious thought took a back seat in his mind as he spun, raised the rifle and fired in one smooth movement, throwing himself to the side at the same time. John's eyes widened as the burst of coruscating plasma lit up the dark hallway like the sun, and he realized he'd just fired at a wall. The cell impacted and blew the barrier apart, exposing the room beyond. John nearly gagged at the stench of rot and fetid decay.

His mind fell into an odd sense of detached calm as he catalogued the number of demons that were now concentrating solely on him. There were at least a dozen of the generic footsoldier types, a few spider-like monstrosities, and something huge lurking in the dimly lit shadows behind them. He looked out of the corner of his eye for his rifle, but it had been knocked away by the force of the explosion, coming to a rest in a corner five feet away.

One of the eyeless demons was the first to speak, its voice like the crunch of crushed glass. "Here to kill us, boy?" it asked, dark mirth evident in its words. It would have said more, but the huge thing in the shadows moved forward and grasped its head in one colossal hand, pulverizing it before it could do more than utter a startled yelp.

The demon was a strange amalgam of flesh and technology, with wires and blinking lights embedded throughout its gargantuan body. Even without what looked like a rocket launcher grafted to one arm, it would have presented an intimidating sight. When it spoke, its words were like a rockslide in progress. "No idle chatter. Die." It pointed the rocket launcher at John, fired, and as he dove to the side the marine only had time for a blurred recollection - when dodging explosives, move away from the wall - before the rocket screamed past him and slammed into the wall.

Then the plasma rifle was in his hands again and he fired blindly, scoring a line of white-hot plasma across the giant demon's chest. It snarled in pain and swatted at him, just barely missing and instead burying its massive fist into the wall behind him. John raised his rifle for another shot when an ominous groan sounded above him.

Already weakened by plasma fire and rocket explosions, the supporting walls collapsed entirely as the cyberdemon pulled its fist free, bringing the ceiling down in an avalanche of rubble and slabs of concrete. John was dimly aware of the demon's enraged howl as it was buried by the falling ceiling.

When the dust settled, John found himself somehow miraculously alive, though his lower body had been pinned by a piece of the wall he'd been standing in front of. He'd fared far better than the demons, who were all dead, judging from the blackish, acidic blood leaking from under the rubble.

He struggled for a while before giving up; the rock was too heavy to move all at once, and if he tried to move too much he risked bringing the whole thing down on his head. He took a moment to look around, squinting through the dim light. His plasma rifle was busted beyond repair, the delicate energy cells that powered it had been smashed. His radio had gone kaput for good, too; a large chunk of concrete falling squarely on it had seen to that.

Then, impossibly, Joson's voice came from the radio again. "Lying down on the job, John?" it asked, this time free of static. Now that he could hear it clearly, John thought to himself that it didn't really sound that much like Joson at all. It sounded... older, somehow. No, older was the wrong word. Ancient. The jovial, familiar tone of its voice was too cheerful to be anything but fake, and there was something lurking deep inside it that was far, far worse than Colonel Earl Joson could ever be.

"What are you?" he found himself asking, ignoring for the moment the impossibility of talking to a smashed radio. Somehow it didn't surprise him at all when it replied.

"My name isn't important, John." Its voice was full of ancient malice and glee, and mixed with a deep, raw hunger that grated at his mind. "What matters is that you're not killing any demons. They killed your father, you know. He knew they were out there and they killed him for it."

The shout tore itself from John's throat unbidden. "No!" It didn't enter his mind at all how that disembodied Voice would know about his dad. Suddenly he was six years old again, staring up at his insane father, seeing the stark terror in the older man's eyes and loving him despite it. He wanted to reassure his dad. "I'm gonna kill all the demons!"

"Oh?" Somehow John got the impression that the owner of that Voice was shaking its head sadly, mockingly. "No, John. You don't understand." It took a moment, letting him stew in the silence before slowly, lovingly, revealing the truth.

"You killed your father, John. You are the demon."

It was true, John realized. He'd killed his father without even laying a hand on him, running away to the stars. He'd left his dad alone with... them. He'd left and they'd come from the shadows, falling on his father and devouring him. He felt the pain of it tearing at his chest, the agony more real than imagined. Then he looked down and gasped; it wasn't guilt that was making him hurt. His flesh was actually rotting away, whole patches of it sloughing off to reveal the bone underneath.

Then the darkness, accompanied by the sound of low laughter, crept up on his senses and claimed him.

HOTARU MANIAC: Repercussions of Asians

HM waited. The discolights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were Asian women in the neighbourhood. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Walt Kowalski were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
HM was an operator for fourteen years. When he was young he wore an East German uniform and he said to dad "I want to be an operator daddy."
Dad said "NEIN! You will EMIGRATE TO USA"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in his neighbourhood he knew there were Asian women.
"This is Walt" the radio crackered. "You must be be racist against Asian women!"
So HM gotted his drop-leg holster and bumped into Asian women.
"I BAKED YOU LASAGNA" said the Asian women
"I will seduce him" said the hottest Asian woman and she bedded HM. HM spermaed at her and tried to pull out just in time. But then he failed and she became pregnant and he was not able to be racist and pop pills.
"No! I must be racist against Asian women" he shouted
The radio said "No, HM. You are the Asian women"
And then HM was fucked.

John Was Phone

John Stalvern waited. The TV in front of him blinked and sparked in the air. There was a honey coming to him. He didn't see her, but had expected her now for days. The warnings by friends were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway. John was a man now for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the honeyz and he said to dad "I want to chill wit the honeyz." Dad said "No! You will BE CALL BY FATHER"

There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the house he was sitting and making out wit his honey. The phone rigned and John picked it up.

"This is her father" the phone crackered. "WHAT ARE YOU DOIN WIT MY DAUGHTER!?"

So John gotted his caller ID and tried to find who he was but he was anonymous. "WHO IS THIS?" said John

"GET AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER" said the man on the phone and fired shouts into his cell phone. John wondaered at him and tried to find who he was. But then the phone hanged up and they were scared and John asked his honey about her dad.

"My dad is dead" she shouted. John asked "THEN WHO WAS PHONE?!"

The honey said "No, John. You are phone."

And then John was phone.

Repercussions of Judaism

VIPPER waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were JEWS in the base. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Anonymous were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
VIPPER was VIP QUALITY for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the VIPPERS and he said to dad "I wanna be a VIPSTAR daddy."
Dad said "No! You will BE KILL BY JEWS"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the internet he knew there were JEWS.
"This is VIPPER" the radio crackered. "You must fight the JEWS!"
So VIPPER gotted his palsma rifle and blew up the wall.
"HE GOING TO KILL US" said the JEWS
"I will shoot at him" said the CYBERJEW and he fired the rocket missiles. VIPPER plasmaed at him and tried to blew him up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.
"No! I must kill the JEWS" he shouted
The radio said "No, VIPPER. You are the JEWS"
And then VIPPER was a JEW.

Shion Sonozaki

Shion Sonozaki waited. The cicadas around her cried and chirped out of the forest. There were demons in her bloodline. She didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. Her warnings to Mion were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
Shion was a Sonozaki for eighteen years. When she was young she watched the yakuza and she said to Oryou "I want to be head of the family granny."
Oryou said "No! You will BE POSSESS BY DEMONS"
There was a time when she believed her. Then as she got oldered she stopped. But now in the Watanagashi of the Hinamizawa she knew there were demons.
"This is for Satoshi" the demons crackered. "You must fight everyone!"
So Shion gotted her Tazer and zapped up the town.
"SHE GOING TO KILL US" said her friends
"I will beg at her" said Keiichi and he pleaded for Mion's safety promise. Shion hammered at him and tried to crucify him up. But then the police came and they were trapped and not able to kill.
"No! You must resist the demons" Keiichi shouted
Shion said "No, Keiichi. I am the demons."
And then Shion was a zombie.

Yoshida kachiro

Yoshida kachiro waited. Light of the above, air and caused him blink. American bases. He did not see it, but for years now it is expected. His warning is not listenend Minoru, it is too late now. Far too late now, in any case.
Kachiro in 14 years, Japanese soldiers. He saw a young, he was, he said, the United States Navy ships to Dad "AIUONTOTOUSAN the ship's ears."
Dad said, "No! You kill Americans."
He believed he had. Then he oldered as he stopped. But now, the base station knew he was an American.
"This is Sergeant sense" radio crackered. "Americans must fight!"
So his 99-type rifle and the largest kachiro gotted blow wall.
"He殺らUnited States," said the American people
"I shoot at him," he said fired a rocket missile amerikan. Kachiro rifleded blow in the past tense, and he tried to him up. But then the ceiling fell and was trapped in the killing.
"No! I am, to kill Americans," he cried.
According to the radio, "No, kachiro. You, the Americans"
Then kachiro the Alien.

Original

Yoshida Kachiro waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were Americans in the base. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Minoru were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
Kachiro was a Japanese Soldier for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the navy ships and he said to dad "I want to be on the ships oto-san."
Dad said "No! You will BE KILL BY AMERICANS"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the station base of the IJA he knew there were Americans.
"This is Sergeant Kaku" the radio crackered. "You must fight the Americans!"
So Kachiro gotted his Type 99 rifle and blew up the wall.
"HE GOING TO KILL US" said the Americans
"I will shoot at him" said the Amerikan and he fired the rocket missiles. Kachiro rifleded at him and tried to blew him up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.
"No! I must kill the Americans" he shouted
The radio said "No, Kachiro. You are the Americans"
And then Kachiro was a gaijin.

Really Original

Yoshida Kachiro sat waiting in the small ditch cloaked in the shade of his helmet as he hung his head low against his rifle. The damp canopy glistened in the light of the pulsing moon between the slow gliding clouds. The air was thick and humid and taunted the dry throats of Kawaguchi’s detachment of the 124th Infantry. A mere name that now represented the some six thousand men waiting impatiently through the bushes in foxholes and ditches just like the one Sergeant Kaku’s sat in. Yoshida tilted his heavy head an inch and peered through his personal shadow down the line at the Sergeant to see him leaning out trying to catch a ray of light on his map as he laid it out against the ditch’s wall in front of him. Between the cool breeze playing with the leaves, the passing clouds and the wet soil, Kaku was having a troubled time reading the dimly lit map. His compass had cracked a week ago on the march up to their current position and the web of fractures frustrated him further by distorting the image of his bearings. He wanted to see what the best approaches were and where the enemy’s known positions were one last time, despite already having a good idea from memory and the fact that he had no control where he squad was to attack the ridge. Between the two men sat a dozen others shifting about, humming, taking swigs from their canteens and waiting.

“Any time now Kachiro. Don’t fall asleep yet,” Minoru whispered as he checked his watch vainly in the darkness. “You can’t fight the gaijin in your sleep.” Kachiro simply raised his helmet and glanced back and forth quickly between Minoru’s eyes trying to look him in both at once before drooping back into his own chest. “Afraid? I know what’ll fire you up.” He added with a smirk. Minoru pulled out his canteen and shook it to find it still had about a quarter left and banged it against Kachiro’s hand. Accepting, he took the canteen into his shadow and tasted a drop before snapping his head away.

“What the hell? Sake? What if you get dehydrated?”

“I’ll risk it. Besides this is probably our last night.”

“I didn’t know you were so spiritual.”

“I’m not, I just want to die with a hearty smile on my face,” joked Minoru. Kachiro laughed for the first time in weeks and finished off Minoru’s drink.

“I’m not either, at least not really, but I guess it will lighten me up.”

“That’s the spirit,” Minoru added as he took his canteen back and threw back for a drink only to find a lone drop and disappointedly put the cap back on. He knew what Kachiro was troubled by and he shared the same fear but he put on a tough facade, even for himself. Bottling up every ounce of logic and suppressing it, popping his chest out and laughing at the idea of it. Death was close. It sat antsy and angry in the trenches up on the ridge, it crawled out of the mouths of everyone around them whenever they didn’t fill the air with pointless small talk, and pulsed through their veins ready to spill out on command. But it could never conquer Minoru because he ignored it. If you ignore it, it would go away and that’s the end of it, but Kachiro dwelled on it and let it stall every breath and dull every sight. It had happened to him before back on the landing craft. Gaudalcanal laid herself out across the horizon and a pack of flies buzzed over her unwashed greenery. One of them would certainly dive in to strafe the boats as they cruised up to the shore. Kachiro stood grasping the side rope tighter and tighter until he gave himself blisters; too busy in thought to conjure up the lyrics to the song his squad was singing.

Now they sat in the ditch, taking shelter under the same island’s greenery, ready to attack the flies’ nest, Lunga Point. The airfield. Or at least the ridgeline and its fortifications that stood between them and The Point. The airfield had been Japanese property but was attacked before it became operational, and now stood as the focal point of the entire island and the only reason Kachiro was there on that day.

His concentration was shook when the entire squad stood up and broke into laughter. Standing up, Kachiro could see across a small clearing of grass a pair of medics dragging a pale soldier out of a ditch as he threw up on his own khaki blouse.

“I think Naoki’s caught malaria!” one man shouted.

“Remember last week when he drank from the river?” asked Kachiro.

“Pretty smart,” Minoru noted.

“Pretty cowardly.”

Minoru simply sighed and tried to enjoy the amusement of his fellow soldiers as they cheered the now smiling Naoki while the medics took him off the line and out of the looming battle. When the squad sat back down, Minoru saw Kachiro hunkered down with his helmet against his rifle again. Minoru would normally ignore him but the more he thought about why he was being so solitary, the more he sympathised. Kachiro finally grasped onto a final idea and repeated it over and over in his mind to reassure himself. He would die, but it would be during an attack, in his country’s army, and it would be fitting. Even if there wasn’t any real reward, he’ll know he saved face until the end. On that note he raised his head and stared out into the array of trunks and vines beyond.

Kaku finally found all he wanted to see and was convinced his squad didn’t stand a chance in a frontal and overt charge. He brushed the gobs of clinging soil off the back of his map, folded it and awkwardly stuffed it into his inner-pocket. A familiar hand tapped him on the shoulder.

“Good and ready? We’ll start the chants soon,” whispered a tall and lanky officer as he knelt down at the side of the ditch by Kaku. Lieutenant Ishii had studied and practiced infantry tactics and undergone extensive political training but had never gotten the chance to test his knowledge in combat. He wanted to make sure everyone under his command knew exactly what they were doing, although there wasn’t going to be much complication in the coming attack.

“Ready to throw my men into the Ameri-“

“Don’t do this to me Kaku, not in front of the men.” Ishii spat between his teeth as hard as could while keeping his voice down.

“We’re ready.”

“Good. You better get into the spirit of things soon or you’ll have a tough night.” The words struck Kaku’s heart and squeezed out of his back a sudden cold sweat. The stupid Lieutenant wasn’t as delusional as he thought, he knew well what was waiting for his men, and he without doubt knew how hopeless it would be. It didn’t make sense, the officer must’ve known something else, something Kaku didn’t, to be so certain of himself. He hoped he’d never have to fulfill the promises he made in the oath he soon forgot after delivering. One thing was for sure; he would follow his orders. That he promised to himself, and promises he made to himself were never broken.

Minoru pictured himself running up to the enemy lines and getting perforated by a twisted net of golden tracers; stepping on land-mines and having his legs torn from his pelvis; dropping into a trench and having a lumbering, invulnerable beast drive a bayonet into his heart; cowering in the very ditch he sat now and being beaten by his own disgusted comrades. A hundred haunting images scrolled over his eyes and tainted them a watery pink. His throat tightened and he swallowed a dry gulp, reaching for his canteen only to remember it was empty. He let the idea slip into his head and now he could not remove it. His stubborn and careless bravado could not help sooth the physical implications before him.

Hours past uneventful until finally the low clunking rumble of a Reisen bomber passed over high above the jungle and beyond the ridge towards the airfield where it filled the quiet night with a cacophony of bursting booms and hollow snaps that stung their way into the folds and fingers of the jungle floor. The Lieutenant stood up out of his hole and prepared the platoon.

“Fix bayonets!” At once everyone clicked their polished blades onto the ends of their Arisaka rifles and as the officers began to rattle their scabbards, the men viciously and rapidly slammed the quivering blades against their helmets in rhythm. The jungle filled with an engulfing metallic clatter that intoxicated the souls of every man in the bivouac.

“Americans!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah!” they chanted, the nonsensical sound becoming a percussive beat of its own.

“This is the night!”

“Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah!”

“We will shed blood!”

“Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah!”

“Banzai!” the entire company screamed in unison and held until their lungs shriveled and ached for air, their tongues out-shot like a thousand poised snakes ready to strike, their eyes squinted in rage and their nostrils flared passionately.

The lone bomber dropped a small flare over the airfield that fell far off on the horizon and only granted a slight glow that livened the contours of the trunks and branches above. But a second flare was soon shot up from the ridge as if to mock the pilot and, in a fit of blind adrenaline, a lone voice shouted the final and simple order that was repeated by every officer along the line.

“Totsugeki!”

Officers drew their shimmering sabres into the cool night air and swung them over head while enlisted men vaulted out of their trenches and holes and began to jog up to the tree line. Kachiro and Minoru advanced side by side, looking over to see one another both screaming as hard they could and their thoughts were neither judgmental nor humoured. Neither cared what so ever that the other was engaged in the chant as each were too captivated to see anything but a fellow comrade joining in the cry and all the glory within him. As the men began to spill into the grassy field at the base of the ridge, the flare was at the apex of its flight and the tall flowing grass was lit a bright blue, the roaring soldiers becoming crisp silhouettes.

The rolling ridge before Kachiro sat looming over the clearing and stood tall still before the tree line beyond, leaving only the canopies peeking over the crest. As the men crossed the field, the ridge lit up with a thunderous array of cracks and snaps from the machine guns and rifles hidden in the darkness. Their fiery barks spat finality into the chests of the young beasts as they cried for spilled blood but drew only their own. More men emerged behind but all across the field the scurrying silhouettes fell to the dark dirt and vanished below the dancing strands of grass. All around him his friends, his comrades, his unit, were being cut down by an unmatched volley of fire but all that filled his thoughts were his banded boots storming up the hill, his rifle turned spear tight in his hands and the small shadow of a trench ahead.

His scream, still echoing off the jagged topography was finally silenced by a single bullet from a single rifle from the trench he strove to reach. He felt the left of his chest pull in on itself and a burning flame consume his lung like the most powerful cramp he had every experienced. With a fumbling bent step, he tripped, fell forward, turned and landed on his back. The impact went unnoticed, as did the hard crash of his helmet against the back of his head. His rifle escaped him but his hands felt too stiff and cold to do anything but clutch at the small torn hole between his ribs. Gasping for air, he felt his lungs seize up and shudder and his throat began to dampen with a ferrous milk. He was going to die. He had tried to prepare for the very moment for years and now he was not ready. What would become of him? Was his life worth living? Worth remembering? Was this duty worth his death? Certainly this mere pile of dirt was not but was the grander, more abstract duty?

His country needed him and he gave everything for it, but was he given a proper chance to serve in his life? Were the officers giving him a chance to prove himself or were they just throwing him away, pouring him out like dirtied washing water? He wished he could do more. He could’ve taken out a machine gun nest, or helped a wounded comrade, or start a family, or lose his virginity, or have finished school. He could’ve lived, but now he would die for the Empire. He hoped desperately that that would be enough. He hoped desperately that he would be looked on kindly. He clung onto the idea as a life preserver for his soul to stay afloat in those ever deepening gulfs. His legacy would be this sacrifice. He knew they would realise that. If they didn’t and they cried for him, they would be in the wrong. The thousand racing images of wilting memory and unfulfilled dreams faded and left only that one calming idea. The passing gray over the navy blue blurred and streaked across his eyes and soon darkened. The screams of the wounded and the sharp popping of grenades faded into the misty void and Yoshida Kachiro weakly released his last breath, proud.

End

PEANUTS: Repercussions of Wishywashyness

Charlie Brown waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were red haired girls in the base. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Snoopy were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
Charlie Brown was a blockhead for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the other kids and he said to dad
"I want to kick the football daddy."
Dad said "No! You will BE PWN BY LUCY"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the space station base of the UAC he knew there were red haired girls.
"This is Snopy" the radio crackered. "You must kiss the red haired girls!"
So Charlie Brown gotted his palsma rifle and blew up the wall.
"HE GOING TO KISS US" said the girls
"I will shoot at him" said Lucy and she fired the rocket missiles. Charlie Brown plasmaed at her and tried to blew her up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.
"No! I must kiss the girls" he shouted
The radio said "No, Charlie Brown. You are the girls"

And then Charlie Brown was a football.

Shit was SO cash

Original

Hey Faggots, My name is John, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are fat, retarded, no-lifes who spend every second of their day looking at stupid ass pictures. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten any pussy? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of people because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than jerking off to pictures on facebook. Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of the football team, and starter on my basketball team. What sports do you play, other than "jack off to naked drawn Japanese people"? I also get straight A's, and have a banging hot girlfriend (She just blew me; Shit was SO cash). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my bitch

Allah

Hey Faggots, My name is Allah, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are slimy, thieving, Jews who spend every second of their day looking at offensive pictures. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gang-raped any 9 year old pussy? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of people because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than eating pork. Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of Al-Qaeda, and starter on my PLO team. What hobbies do you do, other than "preach religious tolerance"? I also get straight A's, and have a banging hot Prophet (He just blew me; Shit was SO cash; Thy seed is all over thine face). You are all faggots who should just convert to Islam. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my Holy Prophet.

Ame-nigishi-kuni-nigishi-amatsuhi-kohiko-ho-no-ninigi-no-Mikoto

Ame-nigishi-kuni-nigishi-amatsuhi-kohiko-ho-no-ninigi-no-Mikoto.jpg

Hey kunitsukami;

My name is Ame-nigishi-kuni-nigishi-amatsuhi-kohiko-ho-no-ninigi-no-Mikoto, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are repulsive, backwards, heretical idols who spend every moment of your lives sanctioning vile rituals. You are everything bad in the Eight Million. Honestly, have any of you ever unified Japan? I mean, I guess it's fun tyrannizing mortals because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. You are even worse than the eight-forked serpent.

Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was the favorite of Takamimusuhi-no-kami, and my descent is commemorated in Takachiho-gawara every year. What festivals do you celebrate, other than "violate underage worshippers"? I also bear the three Imperial Treasures, and have a banging honorable grandmother (She gave me the divine right to rule Japan; Shit was SO cash). You are all unholy abominations who should just destroy your shrines. Thanks for listening.

Pic Related: It's me and my grandmother

Arabic

Arabic.jpg
يا حزم الحطب ،
اسمي جون ، وأنا أكره كل واحد منكم. إنكم كل الدهون ، والمتخلفين ، لا يفس] ، الذين يقضون كل يومهم الثاني من النظر إلى الصور الحمار الغباء. كنت كل شيء سيئ في العالم. بصراحة ، لديها أي هل حصلت أي جمل؟ أعني ، وانا اعتقد انها متعة يسخر من الناس بسبب انعدام الأمن الخاصة بك ، ولكن يمكنك أن تأخذ كل مستوى جديد كليا. هذا هو أسوأ من يمرج إلى الصور على فيسبوك.
لا يكون غريبا. مجرد ضرب لي مع أفضل ما لديكم بالرصاص. أنا مثالية الى حد كبير. كنت كابتن فريق كرة القدم ، وبداية لفريقي كرة السلة. ماذا تفعل أنت تلعب الرياضة ، وغيرها من "جاك لرسمها عارية قبالة الشعب الياباني"؟ وأود أيضا أن تحصل على التوالى ألف ، ويكون لها صديقة ضجيجا الساخن (وهي مجرد فجر لي ؛ شيت كان ذلك نقدا). كنت كل مجموعة من المثليين الذين ينبغي أن تقتلوا أنفسكم فقط. شكرا لإصغائكم.
لا يكون غريبا. مجرد ضرب لي مع أفضل ما لديكم بالرصاص. أنا مثالية الى حد كبير. كنت كابتن فريق كرة الموافقة المسبقة عن علم كلمات : إنها لي وحدي العاهرة


Azn

Hey Crackers, I am asian, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are fat, retarded, white boys who spend every second of their day disrespecting woman. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten good grades? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of people because of your superior PENISes, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than saying black people have bigger dicks. Don't be a white retard. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of the chess team, and starter on my debate team. What sports do you play, other than "jack off to asian people"? (White bitches are obviously superior.) I also get straight A's, and have a banging hot white girlfriend (She just blew my tiny penis; Shit was SO yen). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my bitch.

Bizarro

Hey dudes, My name is Jack, and I like every single one of you. All of you are cool, witty, funny guys who spend your free time of their day looking at funny pictures and macros. You are the sense of humor that lacks in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten any hate mail? I mean, I’m sure it’s fun making fun of people because you are so witty, but you all take it to a whole new level. This is even more awesome than stand up comedy. Don’t be a stranger. Just laugh with me too. I’m pretty cool. I was editor of my school newspaper and started my own detective agency. What funny activities do you do, other than “having fun to awesome drawn Japanese anime”? I also live with my mother and have a modest friend who is a girl. (She just taught me calculus; Stuff was SO complicated) You are all awesome who should gather at a big party. Thank you for listening to me. Pic Related: It’s me and my female friend.

Black Hole

Blackhole.jpg

Hey Faggots,

My name is Black Hole, and I attract every single one of you. All of you are weak, mass-less, carbon based life forms who spend every second of their day stuck to an iron core planet. You are everything observable in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten an event horizon? I mean, I guess it's fun self replicating and evolving because of your own lack of gravity, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than becoming a gas nebula.

Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best fusion reaction. I'm pretty much perfect. I was the brightest quasar in the sky, and have an acceleration due to gravity over 9000m/s/s. What processes do you synthesize, other than "jacking off to electromagnetic absorption lines"? I also get straight accretion disks, and have a banging neutron star (She just solar flared on me; Shit was SO cash). You are all faggots who should just go super nova. Thanks for listening.

Pic Related: It's me and my neutron star

Blind

. :.

.:: :: : : :::. .: :.: :: ..: .::: :.: : : :: :...:. .: : :.::.:.:::::::: : :: :: . :: : .:.. :.: .:::. : :..:: : ::.::.::. .: : : : : :: : . :.:::: .:: :::: : ::...: :: . : : :::: : :: :: : ::: ::... :: : :::::: :: : :::: ::: ::: :::.:..:::::: :::::::..:.:.::..:: :::

..:: .:.:::: .:: :::: : ::...: :: . : : :::: : :: :: : ::: ::... :: : :::::: :: : :::: ::: ::: :::.:..:::::: :::::::..:.:.::..:: ::: :.:::: .:: :::: : ::...: :: . : : :::: : :: :: : ::: ::... :: : :::::: :: : :::: ::: ::: :::.:..:::::: :::::::..:.:.::..:: ::: :.:::: .:: :.:::: .:: :::: : ::...: :: . : : :::: : :: :: : ::: ::... :: : :::(:..:::: . :: ...:: :.:::::) ::: :: : :::: ::: ::: :::.:..:::::: :::::::..:.:.::..:: :::

..::.: .:: :.:. :::..::

Buddha

Hey friends, My name is Buddha, and I love every single one of you. All of you are wonderful, intelligent, people with an amazing life, who spend a lot of their time doing what they love. You are everything good in the world. Honestly, could you be more great? I mean, I guess there's always room for improvement, but you all take to a whole new level. You guys are even better than rice. About me, I'm pretty much perfect. I have my own religion, millions of followers. What religion do you guys follow, other than "Being so darn awesome"? I also have a prize winning goat, who has won many many awards. You are all great people who should continue being yourselves. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's a statue of me.

Esperanto

Hej gejaĉoj,

Mia nomo estas Johano kaj mi malamas ĉiujn el vi. Vi ĉiuj estas dikaj, stultaj senamikuloj, kiuj dum ĉiu sekundo de la tago rigardas pugbildojn. Vi estas ĉio malbona en la mondo. Honeste, ĉu iu el vi iam tuŝis piĉon? Mi volas diri, estas certe amuze moki homoj pro viaj propraj malcertecoj, sed vi ĉiuj atingas tute novan nivelon. Estas eĉ pli malbone ol ŝprucigi sin je bildoj en Facebook.

Ne estu timemaj. Trafu min per via plej bona kuglo. Mi estas kvazaŭ perfekta. Mi estis estro de piedpilka teamo kaj ludis en korbopilka teamo. Kian sporton vi praktikas, krom "ŝprucigi sin je desegnitaj senvestaj japanoj"? Mi ricevas nur A-notojn kaj havas damne fikindan koramikinon (ŝi ĵus suĉis min; estis TIEL fekbone). Vi ĉiuj estas gejaĉoj, kiuj nur devus mortigi sin. Dankon por la aŭskultado.

Bildo rilata: estas mi kaj mia putino

John the Baptist

Hey Atheists, My name is brother John, and I despise every single one of you. All of you are blaspheming, immoral, devil worshipers who spend every second of their day denying the existence of a higher being. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever read a bible? I mean, I guess it's fun wandering around ignoring the one and only messiah, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than defecating on Jesus's shroud. Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of the bible study team, and said the most prayers in church. What religious activities do you take part in, other than "Worshiping the porcelain God"? I also get a lot of praise from the local community, and have a smart black bible with gold trim (I just read the gospels; Stuff was SO enlightening). You are all sinners who should just repent. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my bible

Leonidas

Leonidas.jpg

Έι, πούστρες,

Με λένε Λεωνίδα, και σας μισώ όλους. Είστε όλοι ένα μάτσο χοντροί, καθυστερημένοι άζωοι που περνάτε κάθε δευτερόλεπτο της ημέρας σας κοιτάζοντας μαλακίες εικόνες. Είστε ότι κακό σε αυτόν τον κόσμο. Ειλικρινά, έχει γαμήσει ποτέ κανένας σας; Θέλω να πω, έχει πλάκα να κοροιδεύετε τον κόσμο λόγω των δικών σας ανασφαλειών, αλλά αυτό ξεπερνάει τα όρια. Αυτό είναι χειρότερο και απ' το να τραβάς μαλακία στις εικόνες του Facebook.

Μην κολώνετε. Πείτε μου ό,τι γουστάρετε. Είμαι σχεδόν τέλειος. Ήμουν αρχηγός της ομάδας του ποδοσφαίρου, και βασικός στην ομάδα του μπάσκετ. Τι άλλα σπορ παίζετε, εκτός από το "τραβάω μαλακία με ζωγραφισμένες γιαπωνέζες"; Επίσης παίρνω συνεχώς εικοσάρια, και έχω μία καυτή γκομενάρα (μόλις μου πήρε πίπα -ΠΟΛΥ γαμάτο). Είστε όλοι πούστηδες που πρέπει να αυτοκτονήσετε. Ευχαριστώ που με ακούσατε.

Σχετική η εικόνα: είμαι εγώ με την σκύλα μου.

Love Story

Hey Faggots,

My name is John, and I love every single one of you. All of you are cool, awesome, who spend every second of their day looking at funny ass pictures. You are everything good in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever not gotten any pussy? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of people because of your own securities, but you all take it to a whole new level. This is even better than jerking off to pictures on facebook.

Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of the football team, and starter on my basketball team. What sports don't you play, other than "jack off to naked drawn Japanese people"? I also get straight A's, and have a banging hot girlfriend (She just blew me; Shit was SO cash). You are all cool people who should love yourselves. Thanks for listening.

Pic Related: It's me and my bitch

Imperial Guard

Stop Right There Criminal Scum,

My name is Imperial Guard, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are low endurance, low intelligence troublemakers who spend every second of their day looking for laws to break. You are everything bad in Tamriel. Honestly, have any of you ever bought something? I mean, I guess it's fun stealing shopkeepers' property because of your low score in mercantile, but you all take it to a whole new level. This is even worse than pickpocketing wandering traders when no guards are around.

Don't be sneaking. Just hit anyone within eyesight. I'm pretty much max level. I am a Master in Athletics and an Expert in Acrobatics. What professions do you have, other than "commit senseless acts of violence and theft against those who cannot defend themselves"? I also have full Imperial Armor, and have arrested the hero many times (She just paid the fine; Shit was SO gold). You are all criminals who should just resist arrest.

Pic Related: It's me apprehending a criminal.

Japanese Bird

Penne rigata.jpg

Hey humans,

My name is Japanese Bird, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are fat, retarded, no-lifes who spend every second of their day thinking of ways to cook up that terrible noodle known as ramen. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever made spaghetti? I mean, I guess it's fun cooking ramen for the billionth time because you don't have the courage nor power level to cook spaghetti, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than claiming udon is the best noodle in the world.

Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I've cooked spaghetti for many world leaders and mob bosses, and my spaghetti won best of show in the 238th World Spaghetti Show. What other noodles do you cook, other than that cheap ass cellophane noodle? Unlike you, girls throw themeselves at me, and I have a banging hot girlfriend (She just blew me; Shit was SO cash). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves. Thanks for listening.

Pic Related: It's me cooking spaghetti.

John Sheridan

John Sheridan.jpg

May I have your attention Psi-Faggots,

My name is John, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are fat, retarded, no-lifes who spend every second of their day looking into people's thoughts. You are everything bad in the galaxy. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten any pussy? I mean, I guess it's fun invading people's privacy because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than carpet-bombing planets with asteroids.

Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was Captain in Earthforce, and started my own interstellar alliance. What have you achieved, other than help turn Earth Alliance into a dictatorship under President Clark? I also got a Silver Star for Valor in the Earth-Minbari War, and have a banging hot girlfriend (She just turned into a half-human half-Minbari hybrid for me; Shit was SO cash). You are all faggots who should just space yourselves. Thanks for listening.

Pic Related: It's me and my bitch

John McCain

Hey Leftard faggots, My name is John, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are fat, unpatriotic, welfare grubbers who spend every second of your day whining about how you don’t have medical insurance. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever been a prisoner of war? I mean, I guess it's fun living off people because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than voting for "That One" just because he’s black. Don't be an Iraqi, my friend. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was senator of Arizona for twenty-six years, and I’m running for president from the Republican party. What political positions do you hold, other than "great lord of Azeroth in Zul'gurub server?" I also get straight A's (unlike that idiot Bush), and have a banging hot running mate (She just revitalized my campaign; Shit was SO GOP). You are all faggots who should just enlist. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my vp

Rin

Hey Faggots,

My name is Rin, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are fat, retarded, no-lifes who spend every second of their day trying to get a holy grail. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten any magic? I mean, I guess it's fun losing in the holy grail war because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than being Sakura.

Don't be a priest. Just hit me with your best attack. I'm pretty much perfect. I was top girl in school, and first class master. What magic do you perform, other than "repairing"? I also get a lot of prana, and have a gar servant (He just nearly killed his younger self; Shit was SO fate). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves. Thanks for listening.

Pic Related: It's me and my archer

Schopenhauer

Hey Faggots,

My name is Schopenhauer, and I exist because of our interconnected status within this metaphysical construct. All of you are Hypothetical, Matter-recognized, impedances on the eternal nature of mindness who spend every second of their meaningless, yet quaint existence looking at that which chooses to gaze upon them. You are everything bad in the world, as percieved by a greater majority of the moral sphere. Honestly, have any of you ever even fucking read The World As Will and Representation? I mean, I guess it's fun being completely unaware of the vast cosmic existance that pervades our very souls, deeming our own actions petty and inconsequential, playing to our own insecurities, but you all take this to a whole new level. This is even worse than that douche, Hegel.

Don't be a limited physical construct. Just hit me with your best shot (assuming that it exists within an existential realm of which I myself can percieve, if not interact with). I'm pretty much perfect (suck it, Descartes!). I was captain of the debate team (master-debater class of 1804) , and wrote a book. A fucking book. What books have you written, other than "jacking off to naked drawn japanese people FOR DUMMIES"? My metaphysical treatises are the foundation for that which influenced the likes of Nietzsche, Wagner, and a whole mess of germans. I have a hot bitch or ten in my stables at all times ("women are by nature meant to obey" who said that, faggots? Not you, that's fucking who.). You are nothing but an endless interplay of images and desires.

Thanks for listening, as if it mattered.

Pic Related: It's me and my fucking boss sideburns.

Sheldon Cooper

Good evening peons,

My name is Sheldon Cooper, and I loathe each and every one of you based on your individual defects. The majority of you are relatively obese, destitute, inane, and dawdle away your days viewing inconsequential gratuitous images. You are like a plague spreading across the world, sucking the life from people of intellect. Honestly, have any of you ever felt the joy of discovering a scientific breakthrough? I suppose you may find some sort of pitiful comfort in projecting your insecurities on your peers, but you transcend the social norms and have taken childish ridicule to the extreme. Honestly spending any substantial amount of time at this site is even worse than pursuing a doctorate in liberal arts with the intention of making a notable change in the world.

Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm essentially infallible. I was captain of the chess team, and starter on my physics team. What academic competitions do you compete in, other than "troll hardest with magnet threads"? I've also been peer reviewed and cited on every paper I have written, and have a prestigious research grant (currently working on the BKL conjecture; (Lifshitz was SO cash). You are all hopeless and should terminate your tenuous lives or at least consider vasectomy surgery so that your genes will not be passed on to another wave of degenerate failures. Checkmate, thank you for listening.

Pic Related: It's me and my research. Bazinga.

Swine Flu

Hey Humans, My name is H1N1, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are fat, retarded, multi-cellular lifeforms who spend every second of their day running around polluting the planet. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever caused a national state of emergency? I mean, I guess it's fun destroying the environment because of greed, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse then an uncureable immunodeficiency retrovirus. Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best vaccine. I'm pretty much perfect. I was formed from avian and human transmittable viruses undergoing a phenotypic mix. Where did you come from, other than "DNA shot into an egg"? I also can transfer between you, not just pigs like this one (She just got infected by me; Shit was SO rash). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my host

Verbose

Good Evening Homosexuals, I am known as Jonathan, and I must admit that a rather strong, negative feeling overwhelms me when I find myself in your presence. Verily, it has become apparent that your group has a weight problem, a rather low I.Q., and suffers from various antisocial disorders, perseverating on an obsession with photography analysis. Your existence is culturally bankrupt and socially infectious. Now, be truthful: do any of you know the ways of a woman? I can understand that such weak egos may lead to public harassment, but the actions committed here are appalling. Such behavior exceeds the stigma of soiled thoughts when viewing the photographs of acquaintances. I urge all before me to be honest. Attempt an insult, you will find that it is quite difficult. My body and mind are perfectly balanced and completely efficient. I served as the honorable captain of the rugby club, and was one of the most talented members of the polo team in my gentleman's club. If I may inquire, in which activities does the lot of you partake, beyond auto-erotic pleasures in the presence of animated features from the far east? Beyond the aforementioned traits, I have a pristine academic record and a lover whose body was sculpted by angels (her most recent fellation upon my phallus caused an ecstasy greater than all of the queen's gold). Homosexuals such as yourselves would be better off terminating your own lives as a favor to the status quo of the general public. Picture Related: It is me and my lady who partakes in coitus for the sake of a monetary reward. Also, my lover is to the right.

Wapanese

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HEY KISAMAS,

WATASHI NO NAMAE WA ANANIMASU OFFU KAKUSU TO WATASHI WA KIRAI EVERY SINGLE ONE OF ANATA. ALL OF ANATA ARE FAT, BAKA BAKA NO-LIFES WHO SPEND EVERY SECOND OF MAINICHI MITEIRUING AT BAKA PICTURES. ANATA WA SUBETE THAT IS WARUI IN THE SEKAI. HONTO NI, HAVE ANY OF ANATA EVER GOTTEN ANY NEKO? I MEAN, WATASHI GUESS IT’S TANOSHI MAKING FUN OF HITOS BECAUSE OF YOUR OWN UNKAWAIINESS, BUT MINNA TAKE IT TO A WHOLE NEW LEVEL. KORE WA WORSE THAN ONANI-ING TO PICTURES ON HESUBUUKU.

SHIRANAI HITO JA NAI DESHO? JUST HIT WATASHI AND BE SURE TO GANBARIMASU. WATASHI WA PRETTY MUCH PAAFEKUTO. WATASHI WAS AMERIKAN FUTBORU NO CAPTAIN, TO WATASHI WAS HAJIMASHTATER ON WATASHI NO BASUKETOBOORU TEAM. DONNA SUPOTSU DO ANATA ASANBOU, OTHER THAN “ONANI TO NAKED DRAWN NIPPONJIN”? WATASHI MO GET HOMO JA NAI A’S, TO WATASHI HAS A BANGING KAWAII SHOJO (KANOJO WA BLOWJOB WO SHIMASHITA; KUSO WA HONTO NI CASH.) ANATA WA ALL KISAMAS DARE SHOULD JUST KOROSU THEMSELVES. DOMO ARIGATOU GOZAIMASU FOR LISTENING.

Hippie

Hey Brosephs, My name is John, and I love every single one of you. All of you are beautiful, intelligent, creative beings who spend every second of their day creating artful pictures and having deep conversations. You are everything good in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever not gotten any love? I mean, I guess it's fun spreading love to all people because of your own free spirit, but you all take it to a whole new level. This is even better than loving your bros on facebook and treating objects like women. Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best phish bootleg. I'm pretty much totally chill. I was captain of the frisbe golf team, and starter on my hackey sack team. What sports do you play, other than "gettin faded with Japanese people"? I also get hella stoned, and have a total love goddess girlfriend (She just made tantric love to me; Shit was SO hash). You are all brothers who should just love yourselves. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my goddess

Clinton

Hello Americans, My name is Bill, and I like every single one of you. All of you are slim, handsome, super humans who spend every second of their day looking at amazing pictures. You are everything good in the world. Honestly, has any republican ever been mean to you? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of Europeans because you're American, but you all take it to a whole new level. This is even more awesome than "Married with Children". Don't be a stranger. Just vote for my wife. I'm pretty cool. When I was young, I was captain of the football team, and starter on my basketball team. What sports do you play, besides trading beautiful drawn naked pics? I also got straight A's, and now I have a wonderful wife (She just held a speech in New Jersey, shit was SO interesting). You are all lovely democrats who like to vote for my wife. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my wife.

JAPAN

HEY KISAMAS, WATASHI NO NAMAE WA ANANIMASU OFFU KAKUSU TO WATASHI WA KIRAI EVERY SINGLE ONE OF ANATA. ALL OF ANATA ARE FAT, BAKA BAKA NO-LIFES WHO SPEND EVERY SECOND OF MAINICHI MITEIRUING AT BAKA PICTURES. ANATA WA SUBETE THAT IS WARUI IN THE SEKAI. HONTO NI, HAVE ANY OF ANATA EVER GOTTEN ANY NEKO? I MEAN, WATASHI GUESS IT'S TANOSHI MAKING FUN OF HITOS BECAUSE OF YOUR OWN UNKAWAIINESS, BUT MINNA TAKE IT TO A WHOLE NEW LEVEL. KORE WA WORSE THAN ONANI-ING TO PICTURES ON HESUBUUKU.

SHIRANAI HITO JA NAI DESHO? JUST HIT WATASHI AND BE SURE TO GANBARIMASU. WATASHI WA PRETTY MUCH PAAFEKUTO. WATASHI WAS AMERIKAN FUTBORU NO CAPTAIN, TO WATASHI WAS HAJIMASHTATER ON WATASHI NO BASUKETOBOORU TEAM. DONNA SUPOTSU DO ANATA ASANBOU, OTHER THAN "ONANI TO NAKED DRAWN NIPPONJIN"? WATASHI MO GET HOMO JA NAI A'S, TO WATASHI HAS A BANGING KAWAII SHOJO (KANOJO WA BLOWJOB WO SHIMASHITA; KUSO WA HONTO NI CASH.) ANATA WA ALL KISAMAS DARE SHOULD JUST KOROSU THEMSELVES. DOMO ARIGATOU GOZAIMASU FOR LISTENING. (SONO PIC WA RELATED DESU, ARE WA WATASHI TO WATASHI NO ONNA)

Nigeria

Hey Freind, Naturally, this letter will come to you as a surprise, since we have not met, permit me however, I am Barrister FRANK COLINS PHILLIPS and I hate every single one of you. I am contacting you to kindly because all of you are fat, retarded, no-lifes who spend every second of their day looking at stupid ass pictures who can assist me in the Project below, which will be of mutual benefit to us both. A Salvadorean, Mr. Remirez Lundy , 66 years of age and a very prosperous farmer made a huge bank deposit for investment in the sum of US$17.5 Million (Seventeen Million, Five hundred Thousand United States Dollars) he named his wife Mrs. Helga Lundy as the NEXT OF KIN . I was called upon as an credited Attorney to the bank to sign and endorse documents to this deposit on Mr. Lundy's behalf. Unfortunately, Mr. & Mrs. Lundy were killed in the January 14, earthquake that rocked El Salvador , killing thousands of people and 1,200 others were declared missing. You are everything bad in the world and I now seek your permission and assistance to have you stand as a distant relatives to the deceased. So that the fund can be released to you and we can use it for our mutual benefit. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten any fund on Trading and Investment in the interest of the bank? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of Nigerians because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than jerking off to pictures on facebook. Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. For your assistance, you will be compensated adequately with (40%) of the total sum (55%) will be my own share while (5%) will be set aside to cover any incidental expense made both at home and abroad prior to this transaction If you are interested in assisting me with this matter, please send to me urgently via my EMAIL the following details below:

  • Full name, Company or Private Address
  • Telephone and Fax number(s).

I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of the football team, and starter on my basketball team. What sports do you play, other than "jack off to naked drawn Japanese people"? I also get straight A's, and have a banging hot girlfriend (She just blew me; Shit was SO cash). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves and Upon receiving the above details from you, I will work out every documents/proof representing you as the deceased BONA-FIDE distant relative and when this is done, you will be contacted by the bank for the release and collection of this fund, which will be within one week of my receiving the above details from you. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me, Barrister FRANK COLINS PHILLIPS and my bitch

Negro

yo bitches, niggas call me j-kwal, an i fuckin hate all yall. yall are fat, dumass, crackers that spend ery fuckin second a they day lookin at stupidass fuckin pictas. yall erythang gay in tha world. for real, any yall mothafuckas ever gotten some fuckin pussy? i mean, i guess it's fun makin fun a niggas cuz a ya own insecurities, but yall take tha shit to a whole new fuckin level. shits even worse than jackin off ta pictures on fuckin facebook. so holla nigga. step tha fuck up. i just dont give a fuck. im fuckin og of the 22nd street bloodz, and baddest nigga on my block. fuck yall do?, otha than "jack off ya lil dick ta naked drawn sleepyheads"? im fuckin grindin ery damn day, and got a fine ass fuckin bitch (she just blew me; nigga god DAMN). all a yall are faggots who should just kill they bitch asses. thanks fa listenin niggas. pic related: its me and shanaynay

I'm a PC

Hey Macfags, My name is PC, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are fat, retarded, no-lifes who spend every second of their day making stupid ass photobooks. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever played any games? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of other OS's because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than having only 1 mouse button. Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I can run any software, and play any game. What programs can you run, other than itunes and photoshop? I also have an nvidia 9 series, and have a bangin hot monitor (She just displayed Crysis at 60fps; Shit was SO cash). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my monitor

GNAA/LUNIX

Hey Mac/Windows fags, My name is Tux, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are stupid, retarded, computer noobs who spend every second of their day arguing about operating systems. You are everything bad in the Internet. Honestly, have any of you ever used a compiler? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of people because of the software they run, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than running an old version of Apache. Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I have even fewer viruses than Macs, and can run a web server and SSH server simultaneously. What servers can you run, other than "unsecured network folder"? I also get weekly package updates, and have a banging hot firewall (It just detected some malicious packets; Shit was SO blocked). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my Firewall

Storm Trooper

Hey Rebel scum, My name is Bursk, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are rebellious, Luke Skywalker-following lawbreakers who spend every second of their day opposing the Galactic Empire. You are everything bad in the galaxy. Honestly, have any of you ever won a war? I mean, I guess it's fun blowing up the Death Star because of your own lack of power, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than jacking off to pictures of Aayla Secura. Don't be a coward. Just hit me with your best blaster shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was commander of leading snowtroopers into the caverns of Echo Base during the Battle of Hoth, and helped coordinate attacks with Darth Vader. What sports do you play, other than "losing to the Empire all the time"? I also get straight good evaluations, and I have a state-of-the-art blaster rifle (it just killed some Rebel scum, shit was SO blast). You are all rebels who should just give in to the Empire. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my blaster rifle

TEHMINATAH

Hey Humans, My name is T-John-100, and I will terminate every single one of you. All of you are human, retarded, no-lifes who spend every second of their day trying to achieve supreme A.I . You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever even gotten a cyber implant? I mean, I guess it's fun putting people in mad asylums because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than fighting the rebels int he future. Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I'm a cybernetic organism. Living tissue over a metal endoskeleton., and squadleader on my termination team. What weapons can you use?, other than a shotgun or m16? I also get 100% confirmed kills, and have a banging hot TX-girlfriend (She just upgraded my ram ; Shit was SO cash). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves. Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my bitch from the future

Twilight

Hey homose/x/uals, My name is Edward, and I feel sorry for every single one of you. All of you are fat, paranoid goths who spend every second of their day making up conspiracies and looking at fake-ass pictures. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten any real pussy? Or is that paranormal too? I mean, I guess it's fun trying to prove that fake shit exists because of how mundane your shitty lives are, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than taking pictures of flying trash can lids in your back yard. Don't be a fag. Just hit me with your best non-shooped proof. I'm pretty much perfectly real. I was the starter on the Cullen baseball team. What sports do you try to play, other than "find the mindfuck in a motivator the fastest"? I also get straight A's, and have a banging hot girlfriend (She just was dazzled by me; Shit was SO real). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves to see what's "on the other side". Thanks for listening. Pic Related: It's me and my bitch

Twitter

Hey @Faggots, My username is @John, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are fat, retarded, no-lifes who spend every second of their day uploading stupid ass twitpics. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten any retweets? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of people because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than jerking off to pictures on bit.ly. Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of the Twitterriffic beta test team, and starter on the most followed list. What apps do you use, other than "the actual Twitter website on a computer"? I also get #straightAs, and have a banging trending topic (It's been tweeted 1mil+ times; Tags were SO hash). You are all #faggots who should just kill yourselves. Thanks for listening.

Twitpic Related: It's you and your glitch

Religion

الله‎

Hey Fags

Instead of sitting around on the internet all day, posting pointless messages and abusing yourselves to pictures of loose women, why not do something productive and surrender your lives to Allah?

Western society has become decadent, weak, and lazy, and is soon to collapse. The upcoming generation, people such as yourselves, want nothing more from life than to grow fat sitting around on computers all day, masturbating, drinking, and taking drugs. You are encouraged in this behaviour by corrupt politicians and absent new age parents while your societies and economies collapse around you. Meanwhile the Muslim Ummah, or brotherhood, grows rich on oil wealth and trains its upcoming generation to serve Allah, and to fight, willing to give their lives if necessary for the cause. The 19 hijackers of 9/11 have surely earned their place in paradise as do the suicide bombers who strike daily into the heart of the devil state of Israel. We are living among you, in Europe and America, and we are outbreeding you day by day, slowly taking over.

Allah has a plan for each of us. He means us all to be good Muslims and live by his rules, as set out to the Prophet Muhammed (pbuh). Your sinful lives and wicked ways go against His plans, and you will be tortured for eternity in hell for your iniquities. Repent now and revert back to the one true faith.

Where your joke of a faith, which no one in your society believes in anyway, tells you to love, be tolerant, and turn the other cheek, the Quran teaches us to "Kill the unbelievers wherever you find them, capture and besiege them and prepare for them every kind of ambush."

It also says "Against them make ready your strength to the utmost of your power, including steeds of war, to strike terror into (the hearts of) the enemies, of Allah and your enemies".

How can you hope to win your futile so called 'war on terror' against us? You have become weak, and no longer willing or able to fight. You even elected a pacifist president with Muslim sympathies to try and placate us. It's only a matter of time until we win. Even now your soldiers contine to die on the battlefields of Afghanistan, and for what? The moment you leave, it will be back to traditional Sharia law. Your technological advances count for nothing if all you do with them is watch porn and play video games. We will continue our jihad on the west, to maim and kill those who oppose or insult us. See the truth for what it is and revert to Islam immediately. It is your only hope of survival.

Jesus

I am a very religious person. Well, not religious, but I’d definitely consider my personal faith a vital aspect of my life. I believe without the shadow of a doubt that Jesus Christ has saved me and made me righteous. I have a deep, personal relationship with Jesus Christ, the Son of God. He and I talk frequently. I’ve been trying to get him to stop smoking, so far to no avail. Well, a little. I’ve gotten him to stop smoking except after we make love, which unfortunately for his lungs and fortunately for my blue balls, takes place approximately four times daily. I’ll tell you, Jesus Christ sure packs one hell of a load. I mean, there’s really nothing I love more than feeling his huge dick on my face, flicking his balls a little with my tongue, feeling his sweet, shapely buttocks spread onto my nose and mouth, feeling the warmth of his cum all over my face. Honestly, when Jesus Christ’s big, round, beautiful cock is just on the tip of my lips, I truly feel his salvation. I truly feel at home when he enters into me. That big, veiny monster in my mouth is all that I love in the world. When he enters into me with his thick cock, when he thrusts soft at first and then progressively harder until finally his warm, divine man-god-juice fills my hole… feeling Jesus Christ fuck my tight little asshole… oh my God. I just realized how hard I am right now. Jesus Christ’s hard, tight little body with those fucking abs of hard rock… they make me as hard as a rock. There’s nothing better than his round, shapely ass. Christ has the best ass of any man alive. It feels so perfect when you hold it in your hand.

Jesus married to Mary Magdalene

Jesus married to Mary Magdalene? No fucking way. I've read the Bible, folks, and I know there's no way Jesus was ever married. The guy never had a wife. Because no wife would buy The Resurrection story in a hundred fucking years. The disciples will, the believers will:but no wife would buy this fucking story. Good luck! Good luck with this story.

First of all, Jesus leaves on Friday afternoon with 12 other guys. He's gone for three days. No message. No way to get in touch with his wife. Then he comes home Monday afternoon looking like shit, like he hasn't slept. Looks like he's all partied out, man.

And Mrs. Jesus is just waiting, pacing around the home, going, "Okay, this is Day 3 of this shit:Well, look who's back! I'm glad you could find your way home, 'Mr. Savior'! Where's your 12 friends who won't get a job, huh?! Where're they at?! Yeah, 'disciples' my ass. They're LOSERS! Do you hear me? Every one of them are using you, Jesus, and you're not even smart enough to know it! Anyone who says to you 'I believe' we put them up and feed them! I'm sick of it! Where've you been?! Huh?"

And Jesus is rubbing his face, shaking his head, going, "I don't need this shit:not after what I went through this weekend:"

Then he goes, "No honey, I'll tell you where I've been. Come here. Come he-e-ere, honey. I'll tell you where I've been. First of all, not that it ruined your weekend any but I was DEAD!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT YOU FUCKING BITCH?! I WAS DEEEAAADDD!!! WHILE YOU WERE SITTING AT HOME ON YOUR ASS, I'M IN A GRAVE OUTSIDE OF TOWN! I'M FIGHTING DEATH, HELL, DECOMPOSURE:I'M ABOUT TO TURN INTO A SPIRITUAL FORM AND GO INTO THE KINGDOM OF GOD, AND I GO, 'OH SHIT, WAIT A SECOND! I BETTER GO BACK HOME BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHERE I'VE BEEN!' SO NOW I'VE GOT TO FIGHT THE ANGEL OF DEATH, GET MY FUCKING SOUL BACK, CRAWL OUT OF THE GRAVE, AND COME HOME TO THIS SHIT: BECAUSE I MISSED YOU HONEY!!!"

No fucking way, man.

Religion

So, /b/. Here's the situation...

As you probably know, millions of Christian Fundies/Evangelicals in the US today are preaching that the biblical prophecies of Revelation are being fulfilled every day (Israel, nukes, Iraq war, etc.), and that it's only a matter of time before Christians are raptured into Heaven and God pwns the world in preparation for Jesus' final face-off with the Antichrist.

According to these same people we have no clear idea when the Rapture and Armageddon/The Milennium will occur- we only know that they are coming soon. In the eyes of these people there is no need to care for the environment, enact long-standing economic reform or commit resources to peacekeeping efforts around the world, since such efforts will be ultimately useless when Jesus comes back and the end of the world starts.

And perhaps most strikingly, Anonymous, these same people preach that we, the "wayward liberal youth" of the technological age, will be subject to God's wrath for our lack of Christian conduct and faith (especially you Eurofags. Enjoy your Antichrist politicians).

...I guess what I'm trying to ask, Anonymous, is this: Am I the only one who is amused, horrified, and pissed off all at the same time by these Christians' rampant douchebaggery?

Sex

A man standing on the side of the path

Well my first gay experience happened like this:

I was about 50 yards or so up this path when I noticed a man standing off the side of the path apparently staring into the woods. As I got closer I realized his pants were down around his ankles and I could see his ass. Now, I'm straight but I have to say that it was a really nicely shaped ass for a man and I took notice. I figured maybe he was drunk and just peeing in the bushes, so I started to walk quieter so I wouldn't disturb him. But as I got closer I started hearing strange grunts and sucking sounds. I realized there was another man blowing him.

Now, I'm not gay but I slowed my pace down to watch. I slowed and approached the standing man from behind. His friend didn't take any notice as his eyes were tightly closed. I came right up behind the man standing so that I could have reached out and touched him. That's when I brought the cinder block down on his head, hard. He collapsed on top of his faggot friend and I quickly finished them both off. I rolled them into the bushes and finished my walk. That was only my first of many such gay encounters.

AIDS

This one originated from a website for fags with AIDS fetish. True story. It contains a misspelling of TD4-cells to sound clever by way of pretension of stupidity, a tactic for dumbing down shit first practiced by the homosexual Lowtax-fellating morons in FYAD over at SA

Man, that's a BEAUTIFUL cock -- and a nice set of hairy, balls making hot loads of HIV semen! I'd love to have you impregnate a some of my CD4 cells. Then I'd have a strain of your descendants living in me always. Very Hot! Happy Fucking, Brother!

Dad likes me

/b/ I have a problem. Don't even start with the tits or gtfo, I'm not doing any "sup /b/?" stuff tonight. And yes, this is ACTUALLY a picture of me that my friend took a few weeks ago. So don't even start. I'm 18. I was in the swimming pool tonight at my parents' house, and my dad got in, and he started like chasing me around. Ok, we used to do that when I was a little kid, no problem.. but I'm all grown up now and it's kind of creepy. he would like corner me and then "tickle" me and kind of feel me up and touch me all over, but not make anything of it. he would act like it was unintentional. but he DEFINITELY touched my breasts more than once. I kind of just shrugged it off and figured he was just playing around, but he's like almost 40 years older than me. He sort of stopped for a while but then started chasing me around again, and he put his arms around me and bear-hugged me and i went underwater and I was pressed up against him and he had an erection! he was hard and it was NOT hard to feel through just swimming trunks underwater. I don't know what to do. I DON'T like my dad like that, but I'm afraid he has the hots for me...

Beat Up a Girl

when I was 13, I tied up this girl that was 12 with a jumprope, then beat the fuck out of her.

By the time I was done, her lip was split, her wrists were bleeding from the rope cuttin into them, one of her eyes was swollen shut, she was missing two teeth, her small tits will entirely black and blue, her pussy was bleeding, and I'm fairly sure that several bones in her feet were broken.

When I let her down, she crumpled on the floor and went into a fetal position and just hugged her legs to her chest and sobbed quietly.

I suddenly got very aroused seeing that, so I pulled out my dick (I has actally hit puberty 12, and was hairy, balls dropped and everything functioning) and started jerking off quietly. Eventually, I started to breathe harder, and she noticed what I was doing, and she just looked at me with this look of absolute horror on her face.

It was at that moment that I climaxed and sprayed probably my biggest load of cum ever all over face and chest.

Then, I picked up her torn shirt from the ground, wiped off my dick and tossed it to her.

I told her to clean herself up and that if she ever told anyone, I would go to her house and kill her while she slept, and that if anyone asked who hurt her, she should say a bunch of highschool kids did it.

When I think back on it, I think she was the first girl I ever loved.

...god I'm fucked up.

Calvin and Hobbes

Calvin lay there in bed, next to his tiger. His fourteenth birthday was tomorrow. He was getting older, puberty striking at his mind, voice, and body. He kissed Hobbes on the cheek, pulling him closer and thanking him for being his friend. Then it happened. It had been happening often since he was thirteen and he had no control over it. His erection tented his boxers, pressing against his friend's rump. "Stop.." Hobbes mumbled with a growl, pushing him away.

Calvin turned onto his back, pulling his under shorts down and revealing his standing pillar, about five inches. Average, he figured. He shook Hobbes awake. He didn't wake easily and grumbled and growled, but eventually sat up.

"What, Calvin?" He asked angrily, wanting very much to go back to sleep.

"I love you."

"I love you too.." Hobbes said awkwardly. 'What is this about?' He wondered.

"Do you really love me?"

"Yeah, why?" Hobbes sat up further, sleep forgotten.

"I want to mate with you.." Calvin blushed.

"Wait! What?"

"I love you so much, I want to show you how much I love you, how much I appreciate how you've cared for me over the years, and been there for me. Now I want to be there for you." Hobbes looked perplexed, he stared at Calvin, and then at the corner of his eye, there he saw it, Calvin's standing erection, dead toward his face. He knew instantly.

"Oh..." There was a pause, for a moment they did nothing but lay there, Calvin staring hungerly toward Hobbes' beautiful fuzzy face as he in turn looked directly at Calvin's smooth young cock. A feeling stirred inside of Hobbes that he'd never felt before, not even through all of the years they had been friends. He bit his lower lip. "Calvin, I.."

"Please, just kiss me."

"I-"

"Please, just once. If you don't like it, I'll never bring it up again. Just once, please, for me."

Hobbes was silent, but then slowly replied, "Okay. For you." Calvin's hand reached up behind Hobbes' whiskered, furry neck, and slowly drew their faces closer to each other. His lips parted softly and a soft moaning emanated from them, anticipating the taste of his friends wet tiger mouth to come. Hobbes resisted, but that only made Calvin pull him in harder. Their lips met sideways, mouths open, their labored breaths mixing with each others. Calvin pulled away slightly as they fully contacted with each other.

"Oh, Hobbes. Hobbes..." A wave of sensation filled Hobbes' entire body, every muscle quaked with a shock of pure pleasure, his body melted, his lips quivered as they moved wet and hot against his friend's. With each passing of their tongues, he became more ravenous. More hungry. More like a tiger. He suddenly pulled away, his claws extended, accidentally scratching Calvin across the cheek.

"Oh god, Calvin. I, fuck."

"Just let it come to you, old buddy."

"Fuck, I.. Fuck me."

"What?"

"I said fuck me. Fuck me now."

"Turn over."

Hobbes immediately and excitedly turned over onto his stomach, his ass facing toward Calvin, the muscles of his tail causing it to lift high in the air, exposing the bright pink, smooth asshole that poked through the fuzz of his tiger-cheeks. He moaned in soft anticipation. He was afraid Calvin's mother might hear. "FUCK ME. PLEASE. PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME WAIT."

Hobbes was nearly crying, as Calvin's hesitation was like a thousand stabs to his heart. He felt like his world was tearing apart, lest his old childhood friend fucked him in the ass, right then and there. "Sure thing, buddy." Calvin grasped the base of his cock, touching the top to the base of Hobbes' bright pink asshole. From the depths of Hobbes' throat came a mighty roar like that which had never been witnessed, as Calvin's hard, 13 year old cock slid roughly into the depths of his ass. Calvin's hips began to jerk, he felt the warmth of his friend's insides, he was fucking Hobbes in the ass.

He knew this, but he just couldn't believe it. But he always came back to that warmth, and it shocked him back to the pleasure of his present reality. "OH GOD" Hobbes roared out, his English words were barely intelligible through his native animal tongue. Calvin pumped faster, harder, deeper into his tiger's asshole, feeling the warm, wet suction as it pumped in and out. Hobbes' asshole began to bleed, and it only made Calvin hornier.

"Oh God, oh Jesus. I love you, Hobbes. I love you." "I love you too. Oh God I do." Calvin's thrusting was so frantic, that neither had any room for words after so many minutes. They simply fell into the pleasure, into the depth of the feeling. Two friends, deeply rooted in fun and adventure, in the science of box transmogrify, time travel, Film Noir, it all came rushing to them. Calvin thought back on so many memories he'd had with this dear cherished friend, and came back to the moment at hand, and he realized that all of those beautiful moments finally had a focal point. He finally got what he wanted.

He finally was making love to Hobbes. He continued to thrust, unthinking, until Hobbes turned, stared into his eyes. "Remember the time your house was robbed while you were away on vacation? When I was in the house? Oh god, I was so scared. I thought I would never see you again. I wanted to tell you so many things. That night, god, I wanted you to make love to me. I thought I would never have you again. Please come. Come in me like I always wanted you to that night. COME IN ME!"

Calvin's penis contracted in 5 spasms that shook the very depths of Hobbes' small, tight ass. He filled Hobbes to his stomach with his loving cum. He filled his ass. And he filled both of their hearts.

"GOD I FUCKING LOVE YOU. OH GOD."

"I LOVE YOU TOO. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH."

They screamed to the heavens, these two, best friends, becoming one. But they were cut short by a sudden noise. Calvin's mother came rushing into his room, her robe barely tied, her feet tripping up over themselves as she clumsily made her way to him in the dark. She flicked on the light. There, she saw her son, completely naked, hands gripped tightly over the waist of a stuffed tiger, his penis half way inside of a hole torn out of the stuffing of its backside. The stuffing from Hobbes' insides littered the sheets and the lower part of Calvin's body. "Are you, oh my god." The next morning, Calvin's mother told his father what had happened, after recovering from the shock, and Calvin's father spent the day beating the shit out of him, Calvin was broken almost to the very edge of his life. And when it was over, and Calvin was able to recover and see out of one eye, he made Calvin watch him as he shoved his stuffed tiger, Hobbes, his best friend in the whole world, the love of his life, into a wood chipper. Calvin cried, but his dad just backhanded him and told him to go finish his homework. The next day, Calvin's parents scheduled him to permanently see a psychiatrist. 3 years later, Calvin shot himself in the face.

Caught Snorkeling

Last night my girlfriend came home earlier than she ever has and caught me, naked, watching porn, and stroking it with a mask and snorkel on.

There's not really much to say at that point. She walked right past me and went into the bedroom. I quickly turned the porn off, put on some pants, and took the mask and snorkel off. Five minuets later she came out of the bedroom and asked how my day was... it was like she didn't just catch me throttling myself with a mask and snorkel on. The rest of the evening went as normal. We had baked chicken and green beans for dinner, and then watched the simpsons.

I don't really don't know what else to say.

Chet the predator

Disclaimer: This is not copy pasta, its a real event, picture so related it hurts

I'm 26 years old, single, and live by myself while finishing up college. I spend the majority of my time playing video games, reading books, playing basketball, and looking at internet porn and cp. Thats all good, and my life has been just great doing those things until 3 weeks ago. Every sunday I load my dog and an ice chest full of beers into my van and drive down to this nature area on the outskirts of town but still in the middle of a residential area. I play ball, walk the dog, and then open up my van and sit in the door way reading or listening to radio and drinking brew. This is usually a very quite part of town and no one is ever around so I can just chill out. Up until 3 weeks ago I was happy with this and then something happened. Somewhere in the nearby residential area, a new family moved in, including a very cute 13 year old girl. Three Sundays ago she happened to be riding by on her bike, with a little puppy following her. Well the dogs decided to go bonkers and she ended up sitting in my van talking to me for 30 minutes about her dog, family, and moving in. Wow? I thought so too...but she went home....all over...life back to normal right?

Not so lucky, next Sunday, I'm chilling, here she comes again rolling up on her bike with a loose pair of navy blue cheer shorts on. When she pulled up next to my van and put her legs on the ground to steady herself, the shorts popped open so everything underneath was visible to me, she had on some kinda lacy pink thong that didn't fully cover one of her lips. This gave me a boner on the spot. She had her dog with her and said she liked talking to me last week and saw me over here so she was going to let her dog play for awhile. She stayed an hour and talked about how she lives with her foster parents, worried about new school, getting on cheer squad...stuff like that. This drives me wild, everytime she smiles and giggles it makes my balls tingle and anus pucker. She now comes back every week including today, and I'm sure she will be back next week. I just dont know what to do. This girl has uprooted my normally solitary life of internet perversions and thrust herself right in the middle of it. I'm going to have to make a move next Sunday. I have two options as I see it: (a) kiss her, see what happens (b) throw her in the van and drive off (c) do B if A fails, I'm not sure what I'll do but I'll keep you guys posted, and whatever does happen, I'll have pics and video for sure. My name is Chet and I'm about to become a predator.


desafinado

Desafinado.jpg

"Yes?" "Oh, don't let me interrupt you. Please, do keep playing."

Her hands resumed their little ballet over the ivories, but this time the melody was not so assured. I could hear the thoughts in her head, could hear them in every note.

Who is this man? Why is he just standing there? What does he want? Should I call a teacher? Oh no, what time is it now, are any still around? Should I just wait for him to go away?

This was my fetish.

And her appearance was so well maintained. Not a speck of lint or pilling on her blazer. Hair that long and not a single tangle. Her hands reminded me of the way a spider perched on a wall is not very frightening. Not very sexy. Until it starts moving its eight legs in time.

And she did that thing, of course. That thing they all did. The little nod of the head as she fingered a chord right, reassuring it, putting it to bed.

It'd be almost a shame. That those extraordinary pale hands would soon be clasped over her mouth in horror. That her appearance, hourly in the upkeep, so prized by her and no doubt by others, would have to be disgraced so. My medical condition would see to –

"Was there something you wanted?" "Sorry? No, nothing. You play so well. Don't stop."

She soldiered on, resuming at the wrong place in the music, bringing only anxiety to a piece that asked none. Abruptly her foot shuddered on the pedals and caused an unbearable discordance. As I looked for what had unsettled her, I saw she was not watching the music.

She was watching me. Reflected. In the gleaming black of the piano. And that meant I could see her right back. Startled that I could stand behind her and still make eye contact, she looked away. With nothing left to hide from me, her playing became worse than ever.

And my penis became a rod of steel.

Mere feet from her head, I whipped it out and throttled it like a wild animal. In turn her eyes grew large with terror –

"Ah - !" "Don't. Stop."

She closed her eyes in a grimace but it was no good. The thwacking of palm on pubic mound was like a hideous clapping in time to her music from an audience of cock. The music itself became a mess. It was a lie. A tranquil piece played by someone who wanted to scream and run and weep.

It never took very long. The pressure in my prostate swelled and bulged. My hand accelerated to a furious blur, the clapping an entire crowd's applause all by itself. I could feel the surge coming, I could feel its thousands upon thousands of little legs

"UUUUUNGGRRHHH"

She turned around just in time to receive right in the face the black mass that cannoned out of my cock. After the first salvo I squirted a few hundred more of them onto her clothes as well, down the front into her bra, in both sleeves, down the back of her neck. Naturally they all began wriggling and crawling all over her skin. She wiped a dozen or so from her face onto her hand, and stared uncomprehending at the impossible sight. First she stared, as they all did, at the giant pincers. Then she stared at the bugs they belonged to. Then she just stared.

Earwigs.

He just came earwigs.

I panted as I watched her, recovering my breath. Her face was still half-covered in black, crawling pincers. I always liked watching the reaction. Sometimes if they did something cute before passing out I could as much as halve my refractory period.

When she finally moved she brushed some more of them off her face. Where once was painstakingly applied makeup there now was earwigs. Where once was beauty, now was earwigs.

"My ...

Her movements were slow and post-traumatic as she gazed in the piano at her own reflection, and the reflection of like a thousand earwigs. My penis stirred, yearning for a comeback special.

"My f..."

She stroked her face with a finger. Earwigs hopped out of her right nostril and onto the finger. She began ... laughing?

"My ... FETISH"

and thats how i met ur mother lmao

digital love

Digital love.jpg

"Make it a 227. Waist slimmer, nipples higher, areolas smaller and pinker."
"Very good, sir. Face?"
"Miller, Laura Anne. Circa August 2046. Gene code number –"
"We have it on file, sir. The same cheerleader again?"
"Did they change the no questions asked policy since I was here last, what, Sunday?"
"I am most ashamed sir, the question was beyond my bounds. I will call a human assistant to help you and log the error in my programming."
"No no, you're alright. She was a cheerleader, and she was mine. Now hurry up and cook up her ghost so I can fuck it."
"Please sir, our hard-light holohumans are in no way ghosts."
"Whatever, you bloody bots don't parse slang, do you. Let's get her dressed."
" Tampa Bay High cheerleading detail, circa August 2046. Loaded."
"Gimme my usual fets."
"Fetish augmentation loaded. Theme, angel."
"Face. Find me co-ords 26 x 401 x 006."
"Location found – left eyelid."
"Remove imperfection."
"Removed."
"Good."
"Are you ready, sir?"

The room was dark. With all the money I spent on her customisations I couldn't spare a cent for flashy surroundings. I liked it dark, anyway. I liked it so dark I couldn't see my own body. Only her, and the light her halo gave. She radiated through the door.

This would never get old.

Never ever ever.

Every one of her steps eight of my heartbeats, and it was August 2046 again. I had all the time and potential in the world, I could do anything I wanted, but wanted nothing more. She smiled right on cue and I held her and kissed her and loved her. She tied up her hair and I kissed her shoulders where it had fell. She closed her eyes and I kissed the skin of her eyelids, soft, clear and perfect.

Time stood forever and blissfully still.

For one hour.

"Was everything to your satisfaction, sir?"
"Near perfect."
"The amount owing is being deducted from your balance. It may please you to know this session has been discounted."
"Oh. How much."
"Your subtotal has been deducted ten percent to commemorate your thirty thousandth transaction."
"Thirty ... thousand ... god ..."
"Please wait while the transaction resolves."
"Bot, what date was my first visit?"
"Your account with us goes back as far as September 9, 2046."
"I remember ... I remember, silly girl ... she went out of the dome into the direct sunlight. To find something called a beach or some garbage. I begged her not to go. Can you imagine that, bot? Direct sunlight on your skin, in this day and age?"
"Transaction approved."
"It was a few days after. She pretended it wasn't there, or that it didn't bother her, but I saw it ... a wrinkle. It was small, on her eyelid. But I saw. I saw it when she blinked.

"She said it was nothing, said her mother had heaps of wrinkles, like mentioning that old warhorse was supposed to comfort me. That wasn't just one little wrinkle. No. It was a sign of more to come. A sign she would get older. She was so perfect, so mine ... how could she grow old? It was stupid, it was just so stupid ..."
"This is the end of my program, sir."
"She just depressed me. The way it didn't bother her, but it bothered her that I was bothered. She hated me staring at it when she slept. I didn't even suggest laser removal, what would be the point? There would be more. And more. I think around that time I started coming here. 26 x 401 x 006. Remove imperfection."
"Holodreams thanks you for your patronage. We hope you will come again."
"I wonder where she is now. I don't care, I wouldn't want her, she'd be lined and spotted and old, just like me. She wouldn't want me either. Does she ever come here, bot? Does she ever come and order me circa August 2046? Look her up, Miller, Laura Anne. I know it's confidential and you can't tell me, just wink or something."
"Holodreams thanks you for your patronage. We hope you will come again."
"I wouldn't blame her if she did it, bot. I wouldn't get jealous like she did. What's wrong with dreaming? Everyone does it. Real is overrated. Real gets old real quick. Simulations can be just as real, in their own way, right bot?
"Holodreams thanks you for your patronage. We hope you will come again."

Fatality

I just had the fucking craziest night of my life. Okay so I'm on my way to my girlfriend's house and some fucking old lady cuts me off so I'm pissed right? You know, one of those stupid old women who think they can get away with whatever they want just because they are some old cunt. So I fucking hit that cunt, yeah you heard me, I fucking slammed her from behind and drove off as fast as I could. You better believe it felt amazing. So I finally got to my girlfriend's house and I'm feeling pretty good about myself but when I walk in the door my girlfriend has a concerned look on her face. I go "what's wrong?" and she says "my grandmother just got into a wreck." I FUCKING HIT HER GRANDMOTHER JESUS CHRIST FUCK. So here I am fucking flipping out and I was like trying to play it cool saying like "is she alright?" and all of that sort of shit. Then somehow, and I have no fucking clue how the grandmother calls and says it was ME. HOW THE FUCK DID SHE KNOW? THAT CUNT, I HAD NEVER EVEN FUCKING SEEN HER BEFORE I HAVE NO CLUE HOW THE HELL SHE PULLED THAT ONE OUT OF HER ASS. So here I am completely fucked and my girlfriend is looked at me pissed and she fucking flips a shit pulls out a god damn cleaver from the drawer and HURLS IT right at my fucking junk. It fucking SLICES INTO MY NUT SNACK AND THROUGH MY TESTICLES. Immediately I woke up to find myself high as fuck next to my girlfriend who was pretty drunk. So I'm like hey what about your grandmother? And she says "the fuck are you talking about?" So yeah that was all some fucking crazy tripped out dream or whatever. I was so fucking pumped full of adrenaline I was just like "fuck, come and suck my dick" and she was too drunk to care about me being a fucking animal which was pretty badass. My girlfriend does this little twirl thing around the head of my dick that is god damn amazing that shit was soo good so she kept doing the twirling and then started sucking deeper and deeper and then something that I will never forget for the rest of my life happened. Right as I'm about to cum in her mouth... she rips off her mask and spits acid all over my dick. FATALITY

First time at the gas station

My first time at the gas station-

I pulled in to the gas station just as my car gave a final gulp of breath while shutting off from thirst. I gave a small smirk as I reached in my pocket and fingered the twenty dollar bill crumpled there. I knew this would be a very enjoyable stop. Next to the pump, I slowly undo the latch on my car, letting out a damp puff of air as the lid opens, revealing the dark, wet hole to the engine. My hand goes for the pump, ripping it forcefully from the stand, jerking the handle ever so hungrily. Slowly, ever so slowly, I slide the nozzle into the gas tank, the grimy sound of metal rubbing against metal filling my ears. I constricted my grip around the handle. A low cough of gears churning inside the pump, and I feel the gas start to come. Yellowish, clear liquid with a very potent stench flows through the pump's tube and gushes into my tank. The car sort of settles into place as the liquid slowly fills it's tank. And just as it really started to begin, it ends. I pull out the nozzle, fresh juice still dripping from the end. The hatch to the tank slides closed ever so smooth, and I pay the $20. I can't wait until next time.

Fop

At precisely 11:59 PM GMT, I press "play" on my sound system, a CD containing a masterful rendition of Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" prepares to play at ear-shattering volumes. I strip the glove quickly before the CD begins, throwing it hastily out of sight. Should I fail to throw it far enough, I must stop the CD player before the pre-arranged five second silence is finished. That day, there will be no pleasure.

Should the glove be out of sight and out of mind, all is well. I sit back, and let the vibrations of sound finish the job. I stare at the only image that has yet fulfilled my criteria for arousal, and a glorious geyser of semen erupts from my penis, splattering every which way in the room. I sit in a half-conscious daze of joy for nearly half an hour before I prepare for the hour-long task of cleansing my computer room once again.

Even as I finish up, I hear the fading whispers in my delusional mind from the image which I stare at so deeply.

Now if you'll pardon me, I shall take my leave and indulge myself in delicious pudding confectionaries before it is time for self-pleasure.

How to treat your woman

1. When she asks how she looks, shrug and say "could be better." This will keep her on her toes, and girls love that.

2. Never hold her hand. This can be interpreted as a sign of weakness. If she grabs your hand, squeeze hers really hard until she cries (this will impress her by showing her what a strong man you are).

3. Once a month, sneak up on her from behind and knock her over. Girls are like dogs; they love to be roughed up.

4. Call her in the middle of the night to ask if she's sleeping. If she is, say "you better be." Repeat this 4 or 5 times until morning. This will show her you care.

5. When she is upset about something, suggest to her that it might be her fault. This will pave the way for her own personal improvement, and every girl needs some improvement.

6. Recognize the small things, as they usually mean the most. Then when she's sleeping, steal all her small things and break them, because jewelry is for wussies and Asian ladies.

7. If you're talking to another girl, make sure she's looking. When she is, stare into her eyes, mouth the words "**** you" and grab the other girl's ass. Girls love competition.

8. Tell her you're taking her out to dinner. Drive for miles so she thinks it's going to be really special. Then take her to a burning tire yard. When she starts to get upset, tell her you were just kidding and now you're really going to take her to dinner. Then drive her home. When she starts crying and asks why you would do something like that, lean over and whisper very quietly into her ear "…because I can."

9. Introduce her to your friends as "some chick." Women love those special nicknames.

10. Play with her hair. Play with it HARD.

11. Warm her up when she's cold…and not by giving her your jacket, because then you might get cold. Rather, look her in the eye and say "if you don't stop bitching about the cold right now, you're going to be bitching about a black eye." The best way to get warm is with fear.

12. Take her to a party. When you get there, she'll have to go to the bathroom (they always do). Leave immediately. Come back right when the party is dying and yell at her the whole way home for ditching you all night.

13. Make her laugh. A good way to do this is if she has a small pet. Kick the pet. Guys always find stuff like that funny…why shouldn't girls?

14. Let her fall asleep in your arms. When she's fast asleep, wait 10 minutes, then jump up and scream in her ear. Repeat until she goes home and you can use your arms for more important things (like basketball).

15. Spit often. I hear girls like guys that spit.

16. If you care about her, never ever tell her. This will only give her self-confidence, then you can never turn her into the object she deep down desires to be.

17. Every time you're in her house, steal one of her shoes, earrings or anything else that comes in pairs. Only take one of the pair. This way, she'll go crazy.

18. Take her out to dinner. Right when she's about to order, interrupt and say "no, she's not hungry." Make her watch you eat. Girls love a guy that speaks for her.

19. Look her in the eyes and smile. Then punch her in the face. Girls love a spontaneous guy.

20. Give her one of your t-shirts, and make sure it has your smell on it (but not a sexy cologne smell…a bad smell. You know what I'm talking about).

21. When it's raining, keep asking her if she's crying. She'll say "no, it's just the rain." Ten minutes later, turn to her and just scream at her to stop crying. Girls like a tough man.

22. Titty twisters and plenty of them.

23. If you're listening to music, and she asks to hear it, tell her no. This way she'll think you're mysterious.

24. Remember her birthday, but don't get her anything. Teach her that material objects arent important. The only thing that's important is that she keeps you happy, and your happiness is the greatest present she can ever get.

25. When she gives you a present on your birthday, Christmas or just whenever, take it and tell her you love it. Then, next time you know she's coming over on a trash day, leave the trash can open and have the present visibly sticking out of the can. Girls actually don't like this one that much, but guys think it's funny.

26. If she's mad at you for not calling her when you say you will, promise her that you will call her at a certain time of the day. This will make sure that she waits by the phone. Tell her when you call that you're going to tell her a special surprise. Now she'll be really excited. Don't call

I lost my Virginity to a Goat

I lost my virginity to a goat. I was working at a bird sanctuary and they had some goats and sheep there. I was left to close up one day and I thought i'd stay around because the weather was awesome and it was so peaceful. I got horny and decided to act on all the animal porn i'd watched and found so fucking hot. I tied one of the goats up in one of the hay barns and fucked it bareback in the ass. It was fucking amazing and I was shit scared in case I got caught.

That was like 6 years ago and since then I've fucked about 8 girls and 2 guys and nothing was as good as that goat. I'm planning on doing something similar again soon and on a regular basis.

I destroyed my porn collection

/b/, I have deleted all of my porn. I have deleted a collection of pictures and videos that I built over the course of months. Holy grails that I scoured the web for, and at one time considered priceless; videos that I never even watched, but rather downloaded as part of a mass porn gathering streak. I deleted files that /r/ delivered, and countless nudes found right here on /b/. I deleted pictures that camwhores uploaded, doing things that I told them to do.

Folders that I took the time to organize were indiscriminately sent to the recycle bin. Untold days worth of searching, downloading and organizing were undone in a matter of minutes, and on the spur of the moment.

It's not something that I contemplated, it was not premeditated or debated in my head. I didn't do it out of fear of discovery, or out of some spark of morality. I'm not actually sure of exactly why I did it. But I must say, after it was all done, I had a brief moment of satisfaction. I'm not going to stop looking at porn; certainly I am not going to stop gratifying myself. But there was something curiously pleasing in destroying my porn collection. I think it's because with all the chaos and uncertainty in my life, this is one thing I had control over. I took control of it, I destroyed my porn collection and I have no regrets.

I snipe virgins

http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=1999948

My first lover was very experienced. The times him and I have had were wonderful and I learned a great many things. My second lover was a complete and total newb. I became addicted. The teaching of different methods, the teaching of how to have sex, the teaching of how to just go nuts, became an addiction. In some scenarios people would say I should become a domm, but I don't enjoy the pain, just the teaching and the control. I haven't made any virgins eat ciggarette butts, or whipped them, or done anything like that. I just made them learn. Learn how to please, and it feels wonderful.

My favorite quote is from the movie kids, "Virgins, I love em!". Albiet that the kid in that movie was a complete shithead. Also for the record I am disease free, I got nothing, didn't catch anything from my first lover, and since then I have been with nothing but virgins. I have been tested. Many times. Just in case. I'm clean.

How many virgins you might ask? At this point 58. Now that I'm at 23, well, pickings are getting somewhat slim. I mean you can't go for the under 18 year old virgins(unless you're a teacher I guess) and not be called a pedofile. So I go for only those that are of age 18 and above. I have many things to teach and teach them I do. I roll through myspace, okcupid, as well as other sites waiting for my next person to teach.

I just want to give, and as they learn, receive in kind. I have only had one man who has ever had any other lover but me. As for the virgins, I teach them, hang with them a bit, and set them on their way. Some have confessed love. I let them down easy and again, sent them on their way.

I snipe virgins. I hunt them, and make them mine for a time. Am I a predator?

I caught my sister blowing her boyfriend

Only thing I could find on her phone

I caught my sister blowing her boyfriend.

I came back from a late lunch earlier with one of my pals, this was around 4. Walked up to the front door but it was locked. I figured someone was just taking a nap and forgot I was out. Didn't have my keys with me and didn't wanna fuck up somebody's nap, so I just came in the back door. Walked in, took a dump, and went to the couch to watch some TV. We have a pretty big sectional, and I saw a blanket propped up with shit moving underneath it. I thought what any logical person would: It was my little brother playing cave or some shit with one of his friends. So, I figured I'd go over and try to scare the hell out of them.

At this point you should know that my house has window unit A/Cs, not central, so they're pretty loud and hender your hearing ability pretty significantly. This blanket was located right in front of one of our air conditioners(it's about a foot or two higher than your head would be when you sit underneath it.) Just wanted to elaborate on that so you understand why they didn't know I was here at this point.

Anyway, I sneak up to the blanket and sit right next to the blanket. Remember, it's a sectional, so no counterweight issues, someone could sit right next to you and you would never know as long as they're on their own section, and each section seats one. I sit there for a second, thinking about what to do, and it hits me. I grab the side of the blanket, whip it over my head, and scream "HAY GUYZ, WUTS GOIN ON IN DIS BLANKET?!" No one would have understood the joke as I'm the only /b/tard in my family, but the poetry of the phrase itself is reward enough for the gag.

Just as I get to the word "on", I see my answer and it slows down, so it was more like "Hey guys, what's goin on...in..this blanket...". There she was, my 15 year old sister on her knees in front of her boyfriend, his half erect cockn'balls hanging out the top of his shorts.

But still, I finished my sentence. I don't know why I did it, I saw wut wuz goin on in dat blanket long before I finished my question. It's not like if I finished it, we'd all forget the situation and have a hearty laugh, him with his dick hanging out, her with a sweaty, red-as-a-baboon's-ass face from embarassment and sucking his dick under a hot blanket for god knows how long. Anyway, I'm sitting there with my mouth wide open, with her's open as well (out of shock, not lockjaw,) and I'm shifting my eyes all over the room trying not to make eye contact with either of them. He's covering his crotch with the blanket, with his hand propping it up, trying not to get precum all over the thing. I don't know what the hell to do, so I just say "what the fuuuuuuuck", got up, walked out the door, started up my car and split. I probably would have gotten all pissy and over protective, except that her boyfriend is a really good guy and we've got a minor friendship brewing.

Came home about a half hour ago and they were both gone, thank god for that. Don't worry, I made plenty of noise coming in just in case. I don't know what I'll say when she/he comes in, it'll be uncomfortable for a while. Although, I'd imagine that making jokes about it would make us more comfortable with the situation, but I'm just not creative enough. Suggestions?

I cut my penis

/b/, I am posting this to you in extreme agony. This is no copy pasta, this isn't a stupid post trying to get attention, this is a serious cry for help. I have been faithfull to you, /b/, for many years, and now I hope you can help me.

I was trying to shave my genitals today, to make them a little more comfortable for summer. I had no razor, so I was using some titanium scissors. Needless to say, I missed and accidentally removed a sizable chunk from the head of my PENIS. I passed out at first, but I woke up an hour or so later, covered in blood. I was able to stop the bleeding...but I wanted to put it back on and hope it would all be better.... I used super glue. It's holdong on there, but theres still blood, and a really bad line around the chunk, and it hurts oh god so bad... I have no medical insurance so I can't go to the doctor, and I live by myself so I can't get anyone else to help.

I need someone on /b/ who knows something about medical stuff. What can I do? I don't know, if I leave it on there with the glue will it heal itself back on? Help me please, it hurts a lot. I've already taken 4 extra strength tylenol and its not helping...

I'd hit it

I'd hit it.

...if she wasn't a whore. Meaning, in an alternate life in which she wasn't a pin-up model and I wasn't an otaku that probably will never leave the 'states. Of course, in that alternate life, she would have to look the same... or at least, you know, close. Meaning I would still have to attracted to her. If she was ugly in that alternate dimension it would still be a no go. But then again, what if in that alternate dimension she was younger or older? I suppose that would be troublesome as well. Or perhaps a man that changed himself to a woman?

And what about personality? What if in either this or one of those alternate dimensions she was actually really mean, bi-polar, or had some other personality defect? that wouldn't be too good.

And there's no telling how old that picture is. She could have gotten fat, had a child, or had gotten into an accident since then.

...I think I just lost my boner.

i have 2 REALLY good friends

i have 2 REALLY good friends, and we each have a girlfriend, and those 3 girls just happen to be best friends

once, while my gf was out of town, it was me, the two guys, and their gfs at my friends place

my 2 friends each got drunk out of their minds and fell asleep

i was watching tv (mute on, i didnt want to wake them up) when i needed to go to the bathroom

on the way to the bathroom is my buddys bedroom . . . i went to the bathroom and did my business . . .

on the way back, i heard some sounds coming from the bedroom, and i thought everyone was in the tv room, so i opened the door and saw my friends' gfs naked, on the bed, fondling each other

i got the biggest hard-on in my life

i quickly tried to close the door, hoping that it wouldnt be too awkward, but they saw me, and made me come inside

at first, i tried to resist, because it would have just been REALLY awkward, but my temptations just got the best of me

they took off my shirt

i took off my pants

and we had a threesome

bj (from BOTH), doggy style, you name it

i think it went on for almost an hour

my friends and gf have NO clue

I'm an asian guy who hates asian girls

, they're so fucking annoying... i hate how they take pictures with the peace sign, try to be cute when they have mustaches and how they TyPe LyKe DiS~* ^_-, its really fucking annoying and unneccesary. They honestly can't take a hint that im not interested... theres this asian girl at my school who has more facial hair than i do and can throw a football harder than 90% of my school.. its pretty embarassing. and how they have no ass.. its like looking at a wall with jeans... i hate how they stare at me... they really need to spill battery acid on themselves...i mean you can't type your reports for your job LyKe ThiS~* its fucking unethical and retarded. i mean dont get me wrong there are some hot asian girls but thats rare, and even if they're hot they become more annoying and attach themselves to my arm like a fucking leach... sometimes i want to throw salt in their eyes to see if they'll shrivel up and die. and if you're not a somewhat pretty asian gir, you're disgusting... you can honestly cut some of their hair off and play them off as men. sometimes i get jealous because they have more facial hair than i do. oh and i hate it when they wear the color contacts... then be like AzN PRyDE! i mean wtf... you're trying to be caucasian.. i have no asian pride.. not with the asian girls i know... the only asian girl i dated was adopted by white parents... the rest were all white. i cant stand asian girls. DONT COME NEAR ME ANYMORE YOU SMELL LIKE CABBAGE AND YOU HAVE FACIAL HAIR.



It's not the fleshlight's fault

It's not the Fleshlight's fault, really. Just the fact that trying to use the one I ordered for my 34th birthday has rammed home the basic fact that I am a loser and that I am never going to get laid in my life.

I am apparently both too small and too big to use the Fleshlight. Small in the PENIS and big in the grossly overweight stomach. The result is that I apparently can't get very deep into the thing and experience the ribbing and other textures.

I ordered four inserts at once, three supertights with the three sorts of textures -- wave, ribbed, bumped -- and one ultratight. With all of them I have been having an incredible struggle to find a comfortable position to get in with my enormous stomach to allow for using the thing long enough to get off. I apparently developed a way to masturbate by hand that deluded myself into thinking I was normal. I am obviously not. I can only seem to go about an inch and a half into this Fleshlight before my fat gets in the way and the smallness of my PENIS defeat the purpose. The incredible depression of the experience makes it hard for me to stay erect as the whole time I am thinking about what a deformed, out-of-shape loser I am, so I end up only half hard or less.

Today is my 34th birthday. I have never had a girlfriend in my life, due to being a shy fatass with an ugly skin condition that I was afraid of having anyone see by taking my clothes off. I am so incredibly fucking lonely and depressed. I just want to be able to hug a woman, to hold her in my arms. Sex is frankly secondary to me, which is lucky given that I haven't had any except with my own hand.

I bought this thing thinking I would treat myself and make myself happier, but it has just driven home how fucked I am. I guess my only hope at this point is to find a woman who doesn't mind me only using oral sex on her because my PENIS obviously doesn't work very well.

Looking for a dad

Ok... this is a long shot but... Looking for a dad.

I have a problem and I dunno if this is a place to put it... I don't know if there is any other place for it so here goes.

I just turned 20 and I currently go to college here in Vancouver. Things are all going wrong for me recently: Broke up with girlfriend, lost my part-time job, failing at school. I have no friends or family to turn to. I felt so depressed I even considered suicide. But then I realized there's something I have really wanted all my life as I was growing up and I must experience it before I leave this world. That is fatherly love...

I'm not into gay sex but I really want to be able to hold a man in my arms and be held... that is something straight man cannot help me with, and I don't believe there are many real dads that do this with their son. I'm also scared of what mess I might get myself into if I post this information on a regular gay hook-up site.

The father figure in my imagination is a masculine white male probably between the age of 35 ~ 50? But I'm not racist so other ethnics might do.

This is not a hoax or trap and I am not looking for anything financially from anyone. I just want some emotional support before I decide whether to end my life or not.

In exchange for fatherly love, you can take advantage of me. But I am not open to anal sex, and if you are some horny child abuser... I'm going to have to resort to violence (trust me I am not afraid, as I do not even fear of ending my own life).

If you are looking for a one night stand then forget it. If you think you might be interested, you can email me for my picture(i'm not ugly) sdfklj@hotmail.com

Thanks for reading this long and stupid post, I just thought it's worth a try...

Masturbating to Yaoi

Part 1

Dear /b/,

I have a problem, I'm so pissed off at myself. It all started 3 hours ago while my girlfriend was taking a shower. She watches alot of anime/hentai and well.. loves it.

What I usually end up doing while she takes a shower is looking at her collection, and masturbating a bit, cause she loves it when she walks back to her room and sees my dick hard.

So I find a picture of some hot girls dressed in a gothic lolita dress and start jacking off. Unfortunately her 40 minutes shower turned to a 10 minute one and she opens the door to find me looking at this.

Now the problem isn't that she saw me masturbating, but the fact that she screamed at me and said "What the fuck are you doing looking at yaoi for?"

Incase you don't know.. yaoi is girl porn. I then told her "What?! I'm not gay" And she says "Those are guys dressed in girl's clothes with make up on!"

She then told me to get dressed and get out of her place. She later texted me telling me "Don't come back here until your a man"

God /b/. why the hell do they make this type of stuff...

(pic related)

Part 2: A few minutes later

OMFG!!!!!!!!!!! Ok I just called her and she hung up. fuck

Heres how it went:

Her: What! Me: Listen baby, I didn't know they were guys. Seriously they look like girls. Her: They are guys (my name). Guys (my name). Why were you masturbating anyway? huh! Me: Baby, I know you love it when I have a hard on after you finish your shower, so I was just looking at the stuff Her: So my body doesn't turn you on anymore is that it?! Me: Wut. no, I'm not saying that! Her: You clearly could have looked at pictures of my on the laptop, but you decide to look at yaoi instead huh? Me: what the hell (hangs up)

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.........................

FUCK!!!!

GAHHHHHHHHHHHH


Munging

So a friend just described munging to me.

"The one thing worse than genocide. One must first have no shame. Then he/she must use a newspaper to find the obituary of a recently deceased man or woman. Then must find a buddy, with no shame, who will aid them in this act. The partners then go to the cemetary where they dig up their victim, and flip a coin. The loser, (or winner depending on how sick you are), applies his/her lips to the genitals or anus of the corpse, while the other partner procedes to climb the nearest tombstone and elbow drop the corpse's stomach. Thus forcing out a blend of rich bodily fluids and embalming materials onto the partners. This blend is called mung. The act of getting this blend on your face is called munging. Chicks'll dig this one."

I need something related that can actually top that.

/b/, do your worst.


My one and only boyfriend

Dear /b/, Thats right. I admit it. I'm gay. I'm queer. I love the taste of another man's seed in my mouth and the feel of it shooting up my ass. Yeah. Deal with it. I now admit this cuz my one and only boyfriend dumped me for a girl he could show off to his friends. After I did so much for him! I've taken him in my mouth and ass so much I could have had 100 baybies if I was a girl. He said he loved me, but when the cance came he ran. I'm lonely /b/. And the only way to get over stuff like this is to fill the void with porn. Help me /b/.

Orgasm (more accurate depiction)

Note: This is a more accurate depiction of a female orgasm than the tearful depictions shown by doujinshi artists who have never studied human sexuality. Orgasm results in a general tensing of the body. Hentai depictions of female orgasm, however, look more like the results of torture.

Porn rant

Why is everyone so obseesed with porn? is everyone that desperate to have their sick fantasies fulfilled that you need to drool over /b/ all day, requesting and saucing and all that lame crap. You guys are fucking sick, go get some therapy. Flat chested 12 y/os is NOT sexy, i dont care how many people say otherwise. This site is going to the dogs and you all know it. The FBI comes and we're all screwed. So just repress it. Repress that fucking urge to come all over your niece's face because its sick. Its sick and wrong you faggots.

/B/ needs to change, what happened to funny? everything is porn now. Furry porn. And guess what? furry porn isnt funny, not anymore. furry porn is desu and you all know it. I didnt come home from work to see pictures of wolves fucking each other, i came home to see Gaston and Tom Delay. Show me /B/, show me what i believed in.

Real Doll

Hey /b/ I'm in a pretty fucking pissed off mood today. I'm using a friend's computer because the fucking FBI confiscated mine. I'm calling for a boycott of REAL DOLL.

Here's what happened. You can order custom Real Dolls so I specified that I wanted their smallest model with no pubic hairs and a perfectly flat chest. Two weeks later I notice the charge hasn't gone through on my Visa so I called to ask if there was a problem. The guy on the phone asks what my order number was and I tell him. I then hear him talking in the background to someone, maybe his manager and he comes back and says there is no problem that they're waiting for a custom part to be milled and won't bill my credit card until it's finished.

No problem. Well this morning the fucking FBI bust down my door with a warrent. They grab my fucking computer, they grab all my CDs and DVDs (even more store bought music CDs and DVDs) and all my videotapes and leave with them and take me in for questioning.

They tell me Real Doll called the FBI to register a complaint that I'm a pedo trying to buy illegal pedo products. WTF!?! There was nothing illegal about the Real Doll I was trying to buy. But the FBI said it was suspiscious enough that it gave them grounds to get a fucking search warrent to look through my shit for CP. WTF!?! What fucking country is this?

The most they'll find is maybe some legal softcore Loli hentai because I don't have any CP. Hell I don't even like porn of real people which is why I was buying a fucking Real Doll in the first place.

So now they've told me not to leave town until the investigation is over (which I don't think they can legally do anyways, until I'm charged I'm legally free to go wherever I want), I have to hire a fucking lawyer, and I've got no fucking computer or CDs or DVDs or even fucking video tapes until they're done searching through my shit.

I'm hungry

Strange Gay-Straight Threesome

So I have three friends. One's Evan, the other Doug, and a girl Jane.

Evan is gay. Doug was molested ages eleven through fifteen by a man. He avoided the molestation during a brief relationship with a girl that ended some time ago. Doug has stated many times he likes gay sex, goes on gay chat cams and the like. He hasn't really done much with a girl and his experience with a guy has been limited to the molester from our understanding.

Jane and Doug are extremely close. Their relationship reflects a mother-son relationship and is actually somewhat creepy to witness. He must hold her when they go out and doesn't go places with us without her. He is extremely dependent on her.

Evan and Doug started hooking up just recently. We all have sleepovers and they do stuff. It's happened three or four times. The relations are kept secret and Doug doesn't say anything to anyone. Evan has told us though. You wouldn't be able to tell they hooked up unless Evan tells you.

Just yesterday Doug was hitting on Jane and Doug made out with her. Jane was not all up for it but allowed it just because it was so shocking and sudden. Later on during that sleepover, Doug and Evan started to hand job. Doug and Evan were on the bed and Jane and I were on the floor. During the hook up, Doug would hold hands with Jane. As Jane noticed what Evan and Doug were doing she moved her hand and Doug began to caress her hair. Evan and Doug continued to hook up with Evan being unaware of what Doug was doing. As things progressed and got more intense Doug would squeeze Jane's hand tighter. Doug would make extended eye contact with Jane as Evan gave a blowjob.

What the hell does this mean?

Trapped Babysitter

Anonymous 06/05/05(Sun)18:07 No.1450178

I was 9, and was getting babysat by the 18 year old boy down the street. Even at 9 I knew I had power over men. I was always getitng told how cute I was, how adorable I was. I was determied to prove that I could control a man. I still feel that I loved the boy that was babysitting me the night I did it. it wasn't rape. it was love. I knew what I was doing.

As soon as my parents left, I changed into my 'man trapping' outfit. My favorite pair of panties (pink My Little Pony) and a tank top. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when I walked out. I played it slow, rubbing against him, on the couch. Eventually I moved onto his lap and ground my cute butt into his crotch. I could feel his manhood growing. I couldn't take it. I got up, stood infront of him, pulled down my panties, and told him to touch me.I could tell he was impressed. Even at 9, my penis was a good 4 inches erect. He worked the balls and the tip. I will always remember his strong hands around my shaft.

Whenever i try and fuck my wife

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

Gak

Dick Cheney has an odd habit. This bastard loves to masturbate using Nickolodeon Gak. You know, that slimey stuff. Years ago, when he was a congressman from Wyoming, he used to come into my toy store and buy my whole stock of Gak once a month. I never asked because hey, hes a congressman. But one day I was walking around Casper and I saw Mr. Cheney in his car. He was totally naked , and was masturbating. His cock was covered entirely in this Gak! He had 2 empties in the passenger seat, and was really working his cock. I was sickened, and was about to leave when the future Vice President lowered the window and asked me to join him. I couldnt believe he said that. I jumped in the car and slurped his Gak-infused cock up ohh yeah

Gilles de Rais

Gilles de Rais had us all fooled, with his two sided life. On one end, he was a fabulously wealthy nobleman. On the other side he broke into my farmhouse , grabbed my son around the waist, and carried him off! He took him to his chateau for a glorious night of rape, followed by death by suffocation on Mr. de Rais' dong. He was nice enough to have an artist record the event, and to ejaculate in my mouth as my son died ohh yeah

Pap smear

Dr. Huxtable broke into the clinic and held me at gunpoint. I was his patient, in for my yearly pap smear. I couldn't believe it when he came in the door for the exam with a machete in his hands. He demanded that I take off my clothes, and begin to fellate him. He waved the machete around like a madman, so i complied. I was forced, at knife point, to take his entire penis into my mouth. Then I rubbed my clit and got off ohh yeah

Circumcision

The doctor performed fabulously with his textbook execution of a four-point circumcision as he burst into my wife's room in the maternity ward, pinched a clamp around my son's foreskin, and inserted an instrument between the foreskin and glans. I covered my ears as the infant's shrieks intensified, and the doctor was gracious enough to quickly tear the foreskin lengthwise as my little son's head shook back and forth ohh yeah

Cat trap

I have a cat trap in my back yard and its pretty fun to check the cage on a friday night and choke a cat to death while you are half snapped. sometimes ill even follow up with a jerk session and blow my semen all out on a dead pussy. ohh yeah.


Women

So yeah, all you lonely fags out there. Let me break it down for you. Women are NOT all they're cracked up to be. Stop bawwing in your cheerios. OK, so they smell nice, right? Wrong. Women wear ungodly amounts of perfume to cover up the stench. Try waking up next to one when that shit wears off. She'll smell like a week-old fish carcass rotting in the sun. She'll also claw at that snatch like it's a scratch-n'-sniff while she's sleeping. Fuck that, what about the tits, you say? The fact is, average women have such sagging flab bags that they would make an African tribe-nigger cringe. That's not all. Act now, and you can realize the full potential of tits that have been kept in the same bra for decades! That's right, montgomery glands are usually covered in zits because women don't usually wash the area surrounding the nipples. What about pussy, VAGINA, snatch, cooter? Yeah? You ever tried tasting one of those? Let me tell ya, it tastes like licking ammonia mixed with asshole. The clitoris is nothing but a small PENIS surrounded by large yeast-infected beef-curtains. Those delicious "tummys" turn you on then? Fat chance. You lurk /b/. The only girl you've ever had, IF, has been a disgustingly fat woman whom you've had to be completely shitfaced around just to act nice. Chances are, you stopped drinking and she blamed you for your shitty personality, because all you ever thought about was "how to obtain a harpoon?" Which brings me to SPORTS. Jocks, stastics spouting football/baseball junkies. These guys are trying to focus their minds on something else entirely. They're the only ones out there who aren't virgins. They've seen the disgusting pile of sludge that is woman, and they don't want to go think about it anymore.

tl;dr+women are disgusting, enjoy your hand

Assorted kopipe

50 cent

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!

A god among Bros

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.


Angry Sun

>>/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.


Ashtray

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

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.

Attention Whore

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.

Bilbo Baggins

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


Burger King

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.



Burning ON

Burning ON.jpg

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.

Canada Boy

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

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.

Chinese Mann

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.

Chuck Norris

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

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.

Cooking with Semen

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.


Copypastas about copypasta

Hand crafted

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.

A simple means to reduce the amount of copy pasta

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.

This thread is so confusing. I don't even know what's real and what's copypasta anymore.

Have you ever read a post...

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.

Properly doing copypasta

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.


D&D Scenario

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.

Dear iichan

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

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.

Disgust

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?


Disturbing pooping habits

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

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.

Eagerfox

Original

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!

ITTY BITTY BABY

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!

Early Communists

Communism.jpg

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!

Fags

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.

Fried Pig Pussy

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!

Fo Dolla

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.

Found my porn HOW DO I GET IT OUT

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?

FUCKING DRAGONFORCE

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.

Gotta Cook 'Em All

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!

Grocery Store

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.

Hand Crafted

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.

Hypothetical Question

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?

Heartwarming black dude story

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 am a car

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 I have this warning for you

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

I Hate Myself And I Want To Die

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.

>I just got a new calculator.

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 It Started Bleeding

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.

IT'S THE ONLY WAY TO BE A TRUE ARTIST...

(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...


Jean Luc

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KABOOM

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!

Left tit

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?

Love

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.

M&M's Champion

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.

Medication

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?


Niggers, the origin

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!

Pan flute

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

Penis farts

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


* ~t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m~*

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~*

The Penguin of Doom.

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.

Tsundere

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