Forums / Fun! / Just For Fun

So, I was walking out of my local gym when I saw this white ass motherfucker talking about how blacks are big pussies and shit. I walk up to him and ask "Do you even lift?" He drooped his head and said "What does that have to do with anything?" I lifted his head with my finger and said "So you don't lift?" He replied "No" as he stared longingly into my eyes. I leaned in and kissed him. We made our way into the alley, taking each others clothes off one by one. I felt sorry for him, so I let him have at the rear first. His penis plunged deep into my anus, and it stung at first. Luckily I had Mexican before hand, so I was lubed up by the forth or fifth plunge. Pumping and pumping ever faster, my dick got hard, and began pulsating as he ejaculated into my ass, making a beautiful palette of brown and white. I stood up and turned around announcing "Now it's my turn". I did a football spin move and was behind him in no time. I grabbed his cock, and slid mine into his ass. It felt like he had eaten some kind of oriental meal. It was all sticky and slimy. As I plunged onward, stroking his hard cock, my body began to tingle. I shortly screamed "Prison rules bitch", and we both ejaculated at the same time. He fell to the ground panting. I picked him up, hugged him, and kissed him again. His dick began to get hard again, and I pushed him away. He stared at me confused. I looked back at him and screamed "Prison rules bitch!" I pounced on him and stabbed him with my shoe lace until his eyes glazed over. I proceeded to ride into the sunset on my stallion never to be seen again, at least until morning.

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your little miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you could have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.

CopyPasta thread? CopyPasta thread.

Also

@Philip J.
What the fuck did you just fucking say about Ken-sama, you little bitch? I’ll have you know he graduated top of his class in the dojo, and he was been involved in numerous secret ninja raids on Korea and China, and he had over 300 confirmed kills with his blade. He is trained in the bushido code and He was the the top swordsman in the entire JSDF. You are nothing to him but just another target for his blade. He would wipe you the fuck out with a precision blade the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, Jigoku, or Tengoku, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit about him over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting Ken-sama through the spirit realm and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, kisama. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your inochi. You’re fucking dead, kodomo. He can be anywhere, anytime, and he can kill you in over seven hundred martial arts, and that’s just with his bare hands. Not only is he extensively trained in unarmed combat, but he also has access to the entire arsenal of the cursed Muramasa blades and will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you kamidamn baka. Ken-sama will shit fury all over you kisama and you will drown in it like Ken-sama drowned saving Japan. You’re fucking dead, b-baka!

God damn you, KYM. I fucking hate you. I've been noticing how you've been fucking with my head, making me see memes everywhere, and now it cost me my job.
I used to work at a pizza joint called Papa Gino's, which is a chain here in New England. Today, two guys came in, and they were very obviously a couple. Never in my life have I seen people this blatantly gay. Now, I'll be the first to admit that I'm a bleeding heart liberal hippie treehugger commie bastard, and I'm even bisexual myself, but DAMN these two were gay. Everything was going fine, right up until I served them their food. Instead of the usual "enjoy your meal" bit that I usually say, KYM seized control of my brain.
"There you are, guys. Enjoy your AIDS." As soon as that A passed my lips, alarm bells went nuts in my head. But it was too late. I didn't realize what I had just done until I had finished speaking. The two guys just stared at me in shock for a momment, and I went pale. I knew that my days of free pizza and all the Mountain Dew I could drink were over in that one instant.
The two dudes go DIPSHIT. My manager comes over, and there's screaming about hate crimes, bigotry, lawsuits, and one of them even stood up and threatened to beat the shit out of me. We got into a fight, and my manager got scared, and said youre moving with your aunte and uncle in bel-air.
I whistled for a cab, and when it came near, the license plate said "fresh" and there were dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare, but I thought "naw forget it, yo home to bel-air!"
I pulled up to the house about seven or eight and I yelled to the cabbie "yo homes smell ya later!" Looked at my kingdom, I was finally there. To settle my throne as the prince of bel-air.

@Philip
Okay, so you expect me to believe that you were the very best that your generation of Navy SEALs had to offer? I highly doubt that. If you were as good as you say you were, i don't think for a second that you would be browsing KYM. This is mostly a place for jobless neckbeards that still live with their parents, and nerdy high school kids that don't have any friends. It really isn't the place for highly-trained assassins to be hanging out in their spare time. Even if it was, something far worse than a troll being mean to you probably would have set you off a long time ago. What about the slew of gore and child pornography that gets posted here on a regular basis? Isn't that something that deserves a person being hunted down and made to regret their actions? Yeah, you're just not the KYM type. Sure, there's a wide variety of people that browse here, but you're far from the core demograpic if you are who you say you are (which isn't the case). Even if it were true that you're an incredibly talented soldier, I think all the military dispiline would prevent you from getting mad enough to murder some random idiot on the internet. I also doubt that even the best SEALs have a "secret network of spies across the USA". Why would all of the most expanisive Big Brother network in the world be willing to help a troubled PTSD-sufferer hunt down some random kid on the internet? That doesn't even make sense. If you're gonna try to scare somebody, make it more believable than "IM A SUPER SOLDIER HURR DURR". You might frighten a thirteen year old who doesn't know any better, but to must of us you just look like a kid with an anger problem and a very active imagination. Hopefully things will be easier for you when your puberty's over. Best of luck with that… kiddo.

Hey Faggots,
My name is papaphill, 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.

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Hey KYM, 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 1/1,000 chance of appearing; 1/8192 to be exact.). 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 obscenity I know, and started flailing my arms around. I didn’t know she was behind me, and apparently 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 responsible for ruining my best relationship ever. Help me, KYM.

KYM ruined my marriage.

So, I have been with, well was now…, the love of my life. And just 6 months ago I proposed to her at a very fancy restaurant. She was stunned seeing as how we were then only together for 6 months. And to be quite honest, I was petrified that by me doing this so early, she might freak out and leave me. But, I manned up and decided to go through with it.

To my surprise, she said yes. Boy, lemme tell you, that night was one of the greatest, most passionate nights of my short life. So, we set our wedding date to be our 1 year anniversary. Which happens to be today. I let her pick everything out that she wanted. My only condition was that my dog be the ring-bearer. After a bit of a "discussion" I managed to get her to agree.

Fast forward to today. We were having a very private ceremony in her enormous backyard, right next to her beautiful, fully decked-out pool. After getting myself ready and everything at my house, I decided to go on KYM to pass the time. "Just a little while", I said. Mid-way through a new hilarious entry pops up. "Well, I'll just back out and look at this one entry". I backed out and read it. I ended up browsing for 3 hours straight.

Only problem was…. My wedding ceremony started 2 hours ago. I looked at my phone to see 50 missed calls and 100 missed text messages. "Oh bananas", I said to myself. I dropped the mouse, leaving my system and computer on, grabbed my keys and raced over to her house.

My beautiful fiancee was covered in tears and her own mascara. I arrived just in time to see her throw the bouquet on the floor and throw herself in the pool. All the guests in attendance stared me down with a passionate anger. After a few seconds, I realized my fiancee had not re-emerged from the water. Panicking, I raced over to the pool, full tuxedo and grabbed her. She flailed around in resistance but I was able to overpower her and throw her out of the water.

After emerging from the pool, myself, I was cascaded upon by various insults and derogatory terms. I tried my best to explain what had happened but to no avail. My fiance could just not forgive me for what had happened. She slapped me in the face, called me a d-bag and stormed off, yelling over her shoulder that we were through.

I now sit here, alone, eating chocolate muffins and drinking milk, writing this. I am contemplating burning my computer for ruining my wedding and my relationship. A curse upon KYM, Cheezburger, and the internet for developing such entertaining memes!

Hey friends,
My name is Solaire, and I love every single one of you. All of you are brave, friendly, heroes who spend every second of their day banishing eldritch terrors from our world. You are everything that causes hope in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever been vanquished? I mean, I guess it’s fun slaughtering the enemies of life and freedom, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even better than slaying dragons in Skyrim.
Don’t be a stranger. Just hit me with your best summon. I’m pretty useful, myself. I was captain of the Cooperation Team, and trained for years in the art of Praising the Sun. What training have you received, other than “kick the shit out of hopeless undead”? I also have high Faith, and have a gloriously incandescent sun (It just shined upon me; the event was very awe-inspiring). You are all heroes who should continue slaying dragons. Thanks for listening.
Pic Related: It’s me and my Sunny-D

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As we say in Texas, you couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions printed on the heel. You are a canker, an open wound. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. You took your last vacation in the Islets of Langerhans. You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, and a weasel. I take that back; you are a festering pustule on a weasel's rump. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

P.S.: You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, EDLINoid, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dyspeptic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, and Generally Not Good.

All this copypasta makes one reminisce.

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.

Why is everyone so obseesed with porn? is everyone that desperate to have their sick fantasies fulfilled that you need to drool over KYM 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.
KYM 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 KYM, show me what i believed in.
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This thread can suck a fat fucking dick and this thread sucks and come to think of it you suck fucking anal dick beans. I bet while you were making this thread your dick started having a dick attack and you had to cut it off just so you could save your penisy ass nipple balls that look like Jim Carey while hes high on methamphetamine. Also I bet 600 bucks that you took the mutilated ass dick and began to eat it believing it could give you super magic anus blasting poptart shits that are cherry flavored.

Hello Users.

Look at your thread.

Now back to mine.

Now back at your thread.

Now back to mine.

Sadly, yours isn’t mine.

But if your OP stopped being a such faggot and became more like me, his threads could be like mine.

Look down.

Back up.

Where are you?

You’re on a forum.

With the thread your thread could be like!

What’s in your hand?

Back at me.

I have it. It’s the bacon lube, that you’ll use to jack off to my thread.

Look again.

Bacon Lube is now a confirmed entry!

Anything is possible when your OP is not a faggot.

I’m on a pony.

So ur wid yo honi and ur makin out wen the phone ringz. U ansr it n da voice sayz "wut r u doin wit ma daughter?"

u tel ur girl n she say "ma dad is ded."

THEN WHO WAS PHONE?

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.

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.

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.

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.

Yes, I am a Pony. So? I dont see any problem. I embraced my equine soul long ago and I am happy together with my boyfriend (who is a cute pink mare). 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 CLOP with my boyfriend.

I'll straight up eat the back half of a goat while the front half still breathing motherfucker. You skinny faggots wanna talk food? Lets fucking talk food you pussy bitches. 

Got my teeth cut the fuck out and replaced with teflon coated titanium bitch. I got a 13 million dollar artficial intellegence bionic swallow muscle designed by N.A.S.A that can straight push an unplucked turkey down my fucking throat. Fucking feet and all you fucking busters.

Sometimes I like to order 3-4 double quarter pounders and walk out into the parking lot and just start cold whippin em at passing police cars. I don't give a shit nigga, the cops know I eat taser electrcity like a German nigger eat mistard. That shit is parsley to me. The sun don't set bitch, I just get hungry at dusk.

It has been two months since I have found out about Twin's MSN username. 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 KYM but you cannot fool Twins, 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 KYM, but I won't disclose their identities. I wouldn't want to make myself unwelcome here. I want to stay close to Twins-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 Twins-chan and that is all that matters to me. And when she holds me by the waist and furiously thrusts that big black dragon one into my bowels, I simply cannot ask for anything more on earth.

(I think this can be considered as copy pasta as well):
Is your memes being reviewed?
Have you not make confirmed memes for years?
Has the Mods came to your home or place of business?
The mods will relentless pursue you for your deadpooled memes.
I am Ric Tesla, founder of meme masters.
The former mods and meme professionals, will solve your meme problems.
We will get between you and the mods.
We make sure they treat you fairly and treat you with respect.
Don't wait weeks for a appointment, contact us today.
Call 1-GIV-MEE-MONY
Meme masters, we solve your meme problems.

(This is a parody, not a advertisement, even though it may seems otherwise)

I don't know what this thread is about

☻/ hello im bob! copy and paste me plz!
/▌ help me take over youtube/Knowyourmeme/Facebook/twitter/4chan.
/ \

This is a thread for copypastas, delicious and nutritious.

Hey Maggots,

My name is Soldier, and I hate every single one of you, you sorry sacks of scum. All of you are fat, retarded, no-lifes who spend every second of their day trading stupid ass hats. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten any control point? I mean, I guess it's fun dishonorly discharging people because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than jerking off to pictures of your teammate's mother.

Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of an one man army, and I did a nazi killing spree. What sports do you play, other than "jack off to concentration camp pictures"? I also get several medals, and have a top tier team (We just blew up the place in Payload Race; Shit was SO cash). You are all maggots who should just fall to a clumsy, painful death. Thanks for listening.

Pic Related: It's me and Spy's bitch

Not copypasta. I just didn't really have an appropriate image. I had to come and tell you guys this. Well, after the fapping.

Right, so, my brother is about eight years younger than me. Tonight he graduated from elementary school. I ended going along, partly because my brother's an okay guy and partly because my parents dragged me. So I got there, and the first thing I saw was that there were all these lolis. And the thing about elementary school grad lolis is that they like to think they're grown up. So, of course, they were all dressed really slutty. That was probably the third reason I stayed. Awesome smooth backs and delicious flat chests.

So the entire night was like slutty lolis on parade. But then, near the end of the ceremony, this one loli, who was trying not to look slutty and so was wearing a dress that went down to her feet (but strapless, so she still failed at the not slutty look) goes up. She walked across the stage and got her diploma, and then she headed for the stairs down. Then, right as she got there, she stepped on the bottom of her skirt. I could tell right away it was going to go. She slipped forward and tried to grab it, but by then it was over her delicious flat chest and about to go the whole way. To top it off, she was stumbling toward the stairs. She was about to fall and my mom got scared, she said "You're movin' 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, Yo home to Bel Air." I pulled up to the house about seven or eight, and I yelled to the cabby "Yo holmes, smell ya later." Looked at my kingdom, I was finally there, To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel Air.

Oooooooh I'm so scared, you think you're tough pussy? I'm behind 7 proxies and use ZoneAlarm, Sygate and Comodo Internetnet Securtiy which I all keep up-to-date. THAT'S THREE FIREWALLS AT THE SAME TIME motherfucker. You can't hack me you little piece of shit. You're peeshooter and kung fu won't make a difference when my friend woh's a B-51 pilot in the Air Force can turn your entire house and backyard into a fuckhuge bomb crater. You are pathetic, while you're sitting there writing insults like the sad little nerd you are i'm having sex with my hot girlfriends. Yeah you read that right, i have not one but FIVE girlfriends. Top that motherfucker, I dont think you've ever even held hands with a girl

Come at me you bitch. I am the fucking pinnacle of man, both body and mind. I attend an Ivy league university, completely payed off by scholarships, with the leftover money used to buy myself a luxury vehicle. My grade point average is perfect point O. After I finish my dual bachelors I will be accepted straight away into the doctorate program. I will have two doctorate degree's by age twenty-five, owe zero debts, and make more money a year than you will in a lifetime. The funny thing is, this is the average JFF browser. There are many who far surpass me.

I woke up at exactly 6:00. I need no alarm clock. Two women woke me by sucking my cock, which by the way is 17 and a half inches. I didn’t need to shower, because my body self cleanses and my pores emit the manliest cologne possible. I got in my 2034 Lamborghini Murcielago and another one of my bitches was waiting in the passenger seat. She was in the car all night, because she couldn’t sleep without me having penetrated her.
She hopped on me and started riding my dick while I squeezed her tits and drove with my knees. In three seconds, I arrived at the gym, which was fifty miles away. I threw the bitch off me, and she quickly returned to the passenger seat, where she would sit until I got back.
When I got out the car, I flexed. My bulging, huge, muscles ripped my shirt off, and six women lined up. We had an orgy, which didn’t last too long.
Each woman climaxed when my cock came within five inches of her pussy, and went into an eternal state of euphoria after I put it in.
I came, and three hundred gallons of semen shot out. It landed in Ghana, and ended the drought. I hovered into the gym, because the ground was too scared of my calf muscles to touch my feet. After benching seven thousand tons, I squatted four million kilograms.
I started doing my four hundred laps around Melbourne, but I got a phone call. It was a conference call with nineteen supermodels. They orgasmed after hearing my voice.
My bitch in the car was getting lonely, so I went back and did a triple backflip into my Maserati. She sucked me off as I took the three second drive back home. I left her in the car and went inside, to type this to you lowlifes. Be honored.

Gomenasai Faggots,

hi every1 im new!!!!!!! holds up my bitch What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little top sniper in the entire US armed forces? My name is katy but u can call me t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m!!!!!!!!, 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 gorilla warfare ? 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, as u can see im very random!!!!

Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best spork. I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of the football team, and starter on my basketball team, I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed love and waffles. What sports do you play, other than "jack off to magnificent spork"? Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, I also get straight A's, i like 2 watch invader zim, and have a banging hot secret network of spies (You're fucking dead, kid; Shit was SO cash). You are all faggots who should justs prepare for the storm, maggot. (im bi if u dont like it deal w/it). Thanks for listening, neways i hope 2 make alot of freinds here so give me lots of commentses!!!! You're fucking dead, kiddo.

Pic Related: It's me and my United States Marine Corp
I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. <--- me bein random again _ hehe…toodles!!!!!

Mom was phone

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!

Just stop. If you ever post here again, I will fuckin' choke slam you into a coffee table, with any luck it will be one of those old school antique coffee tables that was made out of the really good wood from deep in the fucking forest and not that Ikea bitch that explodes like a fucking stunt table. I will put you right through it, and pull you up by your god damn larynx and then right through the dry wall, my hand would be disappearing into the wall like I just fisted a fucking horse. Then I'd pull you out, you'd have plaster all over your fucking hair, you'd be deprived of 3 quarters of your oxygen, and you'd start to cry. Then I'd just whisper into your ear, really calmly, like one of those bad guys in one of those great 80's movies with Mel Gibson, or fucking Stallone or whatever, where once the goons would get him tied up and the head bad guy that's running bitch would come in all relaxed with his dress shoes and suit and would just come up and put his face like parallel to the other dude's face and just come in and whisper in the guy's ear nice and calmly. That's what I'd do to you, as you're struggling to breath, I'd put my head right next to your ear and just be like "If you ever post in this section again, I will fucking kill you. You understand me? The only reason you're not dead right now is because I haven't figured out how to get away with it yet. If you even come in this section again, I swear to god, I will grab you by your fucking baby fat and the top of your fucking head and I will throw you upside down through a bay window" As you sit out there in the rain, picking the glass and the wood shards out of your body, I'm gonna take a tray of hot macaroni and throw it right on your fucking face. That's what I'll do if you ever post here again.

I'm a cat person. I absolutely love them. But do you know what I enjoy most about cats? Killing them. It's soooo fun. Nothing gives me more pleasure then buying a newborn kitten from the animal shelter, taking it home, putting it in a blender with the top off, pressing the button and watching its guts fly around the room! Just to hear that one little "MEW" before its lungs are shredded by the blades.
Another fun thing to do with cats is to tie a cat to a clothesline by its tail. Of course, you'll have to nail its tail to itself after snapping it to make a harness, but after that, its nothing but cat-writhing fun. Something I like to do is to hit the cat with elongated blunt objects like a tetherball. Nothing quite makes me as happy as when its screams are temporarily muffled when you hit it the chest. PROTIP: Aim for the head. If you do it well enough, its brains and blood will shower upon its skull being crushed.

my "situation story" begins like this. ponyfag here. not the kind who posts in threads, just a viewer of the show. nothing more.

One day, I wake up in the fields of Equestria, south of the royal city of Canterlot. One of Princess Celestia's royal guards reportedly found me motionless and unconscious on the ground, and had no idea what i was. I arrived at the Princess's castle, where i confronted her, still unconcscious. Using her magic on me, i woke up. Princess Celestia then greeted me, and i greeted her, as she dismissed everybody from the room. We then started to talk, who i was, how i got there, when Celestia started talking about "other" things. She then used her magic and gently took my pants off, and started to give me head. It was pleasurable, and i soon began to enjoy the "royal treatment". Soon after, Celestia took her mouth of of my cock, and turned her rear towards me. Throbbing juices were dripping from her wet, soft, pink pussy. Celestia rammed her ass in my face, forcing me into bliss and the tastes of only the finest of whines. Her ass and pussy in my face soon turned to sex, and i soon came. Wiping my massive cock and it's juices all over Celestia's face was more than i could ask for in a sudden warp to Equestria, and That was all i could think of….until Celestia's "lesser" sister, Luna, barged in. Luna and I got in one little fight, and my mom came in and said"You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air".

….

@Philip J.
If fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must fight! Sun Tzu said that, and I'd say he knows a little bit more about fighting than you do, pal, because he invented it, and then he perfected it so that no living man could best him in the ring of honor. Then he used his fight money to buy TWO of every single animal on Earth, and then he herded them onto a boat and then he beat the crap out of every single one! And from that day forward any time a bunch of animals are together in one place it's called a "zoo"!

Unless it's a farm!

Okay, so, I lost this thing. It’s kind of important, but not a big deal if it’s lost, but really, I want to find it.

So it’s like, roundish, sort of, but it has edges. It’s like a triangle but it has more sides than that, but it’s also kind of curved and stuff.

This thingy does stuff if it touches other stuff. Sometimes it doesn’t, but it does. This thing does things to other things and makes stuff happen to other stuff.

So it’s like, if we find it, nothing will happen, but some stuff sort of will, but if we don’t find it, stuff kind of happens but also sort of doesn’t.

You know what I mean?

Okay, so, this thing is sort of blue-ish, but it’s also kind of white and has a lot of color, but it’s also pretty bland. There’s some black in there too.

It kind of has a handle, but it really doesn’t, but you can hold this one part like it is a handle, even though it’s not. If you hold it too long stuff happens to other things that are touching things that do stuff.

So it’s like, guys, we really gotta find this, or stuff will happen, but it’s not too big of a deal if we don’t.

---

original pasta DO NOT STEAL

Bean Bag Buccaneers is a two player children's game, the object of which is to pick up your treasure chest on the central island and sail back safely. 

Each player has a giant sailing ship as their main game piece. Each ship has a removable sail, two trigger-action side panels, and a huge spring-driven cannon. Players take turns moving forward along a prescribed track and shooting bean bags at their opponent's ship. A hit on one of the side panels will force it to pop off and give the player a free shot at the other side; a hit forcing the sail off becalms the ship for a turn. 

To add to the pirate flavor, each player also has an eye patch. Wearing these will slightly affect depth perception and add a marginal bit of sport to the shooting. 

This game retailed for the somewhat impressive sum of $16 back in 1962. With its huge plastic ships (close to a foot long), giant vinyl play mat, and the eye patches, it may well stand as one of the more overproduced games of the early 1960s. Bean Bag Buccaneers?

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.
“Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought--frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.
And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction--Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament.”--it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No--Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.
My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan, and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the wholesale hardware business that my father carries on to-day.
I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him--with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe--so I decided to go East and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business, so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why--ye--es,” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year, and after various delays I came East, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two.
The practical thing was to find rooms in the city, but it was a warm season, and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog--at least I had him for a few days until he ran away--and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.
It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.
“How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly.
I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighborhood.
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
There was so much to read, for one thing, and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities, and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college--one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the “Yale News.”--and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the “well-rounded man.” This isn’t just an epigram--life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.

It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York--and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. they are not perfect ovals--like the egg in the Columbus story, they are both crushed flat at the contact end--but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. to the wingless a more arresting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.
I lived at West Egg, the--well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. my house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. the one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard--it was a factual imitation of some Hotel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool, and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. it was Gatsby’s mansion. Or, rather, as I didn’t know Mr. Gatsby, it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eyesore, but it was a small eyesore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbor’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires--all for eighty dollars a month.
Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed, and I’d known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago.
Her husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven--a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savors of anti-climax. His family were enormously wealthy--even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach--but now he’d left Chicago and come East in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance, he’d brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest. it was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was wealthy enough to do that.
Why they came East I don’t know. They had spent a year in France for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn’t believe it--I had no sight into Daisy’s heart, but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game.
And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than I expected, a cheerful red-and-white Georgian Colonial mansion, overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens--finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch.
He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body--he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage--a cruel body.
His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked--and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts.
“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” We were in the same senior society, and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.
We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.
“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly.
Turning me around by one arm, he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep, pungent roses, and a snub-nosed motor-boat that bumped the tide offshore.
“It belonged to Demaine, the oil man.” He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. “We’ll go inside.”
We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding-cake of the ceiling, and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.
The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white, and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room, and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor.

I woke up to the tune of 7 Norwegian supermodels rubbing their breasts on my face whilst simultaneously making out with each other. For breakfast, I ate an edible gold leaf omelette with shredded silver and meat from the giant enemy crab which the supermodels made, like every day. No biggie. Then I went to work riding a gryphon, but I had to change to the pegasus halfway because the gryphon died due to the immense size of my penis. I was at work longer than most days, maybe an entire 4 minutes. It took me so long to pick up all the money I made that day, about 67 trillion dollars. It was no big deal, really, because Jesus let me borrow his Holy Forklift to carry it to the bottomless trunk of my solid gold Hummer limousine that never runs out of gas that I power using my mind. Later I took a swim in my pool that’s filled with one part Tibetan melted snow and two parts angel semen. After swimming 20,000 laps around it, I dried off using the Virgin Mary’s hair dryer. For dinner, I ate elk that was killed by the god Thor using his holy hammer Mjolnir. It was delicious. I had sex with all the supermodels at the same time and afterwards went to bed in my quadruple king-sized mattress made of bald eagle feathers and 5,000 year old silk from the Ting dynasty. Today was pretty meh all-in-all.

man door hand hook car door

Uhmmmm…. boobs?

Sorry, I can’t find a link(I looked for one) but I just saw this on TV today and wanted to get your opinions. So I was watching the news today and in West Philadelphia, there was a notable instance or gang violence, or maybe something else.

A black teenager had just got out of school and decided to go to the local Basketball court to relax and/or play some basketball with his friends, as was his usual routine. While playing basketball with his friends, a group of hooligans(speculated to be gang members) approached this teenager and challenged him to a fight.

After the fight, the teenager reportedly went home to relay the events to his mother. Scared by this event, the teen’s mom relayed this event to his uncle and aunt, who live in a district of the Platinum Triangle of Los Angeles.

Apparently he’s already packed his luggage and taken the cab outta there. But here’s the question I have: was this an instance of gang violence, or more-so an instance of over-protective parenting? Either way, the teenager’s life has been flipped-turned-upside-down.

WHERT DA FERCK DERD U JERST FERCKIN SER ERBERT MAH, U LERTL BERTCH? ERL HERV U KNER I GRERDERTERD TERP ERF MAH CLERS ERN DA NERVER SERLS, ERND ERV BERN ERNVERLVERD ERN NERMAHRERS SERCRERT RERDS ERN ERLQERD, ERND I HERV ERVER 30 CERNFERMAHD KERLS. I ERM TRERNERD ERN GERERL WERFER ERND ERM DA TERP SNERPER ERN DA ERNTER ERS ERMAHD FERCERS. U ER NERTHIN TER MAH BERT JERST ERNERTHER TERGERT. I WERL WERP U DA FERCK ERT WERTH PRERCERSERN DA LERKERS ERF WHERCH HERS NERVER BERN SERN BERFER ERN THERS ERTH, MAHRK MAH FERCKIN WERDS. U THERNK U CERN GERT ERWER WERTH SIN THERT SHERT TER MAH ERVER DA ERNTERNERT? THERNK ERGERN, FERCKER. ERS WER SPERK I ERM CERNTERCTIN MAH SERCRERT NERTWERK ERF SPERS ERCRERS DA ERS ERND YER ERP ERS BIN TRERCERD RERGHT NER SER U BERTER PRERPER FER DA STERM, MAHGERT. DA STERM THERT WERPERS ERT DA PERTHERTERC LERTL THIN U CERL YER LERF. YER FERCKIN DERD, KERD. I CERN BER ERNERWHER, ERNERTERM, ERND I CERN KERL U ERN ERVER SERVERN HERNDRERD WERS, ERND THERTS JERST WERTH MAH BER HERNDS. NERT ERNLER ERM I ERXTERNSERVERLER TRERNERD ERN ERNERMAHD CERMBERT, BERT I HERV ERCERS TER DA ERNTER ERSERNERL ERF DA ERNERTERD STERTERS MAHRERN CERPS ERND I WERL ERS ERT TER ERTS FERL ERXTERNT TER WERP YER MAHSERERBL ERS ERF DA FERC ERF DA CERNTERNERNT, U LERTL SHERT. ERF ERNLER U CERLD HERV KNERN WHERT ERNHERLER RERTRERBERTERN YER LERTL "CLERVER" CERMAHNT WERS ERBERT TER BRIN DERN ERPERN U, MAHB U WERLD HERV HERLD YER FERCKIN TINER. BERT U CERLDNT, U DERDNT, ERND NER YER PIN DA PRERC, U GERDERMN ERDERT. I WERL SHERT FERER ERL ERVER U ERND U WERL DRERN ERN ERT. YER FERCKIN DERD, KERD

V