Backstory: I live round the corner from my gran and visit her often so thanks to me she has a vague grasp of what memes are and how they work. The other day when I was round at hers and she asked what memes were popular at the moment so I told her about the "OK boomer" meme. She knew what boomers were already so she was able to get the concept of this meme fairly easily.
Fast forward to today, I'm over at my gran's again, and she's on the phone to my aunt. They got into a disagreement over a slightly racist comment my aunt made the other day (my gran is very much against racism) and my gran eventually just said "OK boomer" and hung up.
I've never been so proud.
UPDATE: So I told my gran about this post and the reaction it got - she said she's glad that so many of you enjoyed her little joke and that it proves she's still young at heart. I agree with that 100%.
(▀̿Ĺ̯├┬┴┬┴ Psst... kid, you wanna disable adblock?
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Hello my friend, this is a moderator of PornHub
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Hello my friend, this is a moderator of PornHub™. We have noticed you haven't logged in for 4 weeks, we're just checking to see that everything is okay with our biggest fan. Since you visited us last time we've updated the Gay section with many videos we know you will enjoy. See you soon
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Classic
KappaPride
This is Papa Donger
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༼ᴥل͟ᴥ ༽ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴩᴀᴩᴀ ᴅᴏɴɢᴇʀ. ʜᴇ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴛᴇʀʀɪʙʟᴇ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛ 5 ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀɢᴏ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪs, ᴛʜᴇʏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇs ᴀFᴛᴇʀ ᴅʏɪɴɢ. ʜᴇ ｉｓ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪF ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴄᴏᴩʏᴩᴀsᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪs 5 ᴛɪᴍᴇs ʜᴇ ｗｉｌｌ sᴛᴇᴀʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀɢ ᴏF ᴅᴏɴɢᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ. ༼ᴥل͟ᴥ ༽
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Kripp
Bees fly anyway bUrself
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According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don’t care what humans think is impossible.
According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don’t care what humans think is impossible.
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Minecraft good. Fortnite bad.
Steps up to mic, straightens tie, clears throat, taps mic.
"This thing on?"
Murmurs of assent.
Clears throat again.
"Minecraft good."
The crowd excitedly begins to talk amongst themselves, many holding bated breath.
"Fortnite..."
A hush falls over the crowd, rapt attention held.
"Bad."
Suddenly, the crowd goes wild, screaming their praise, demanding awards, running over each other to hug a loved one. Whistles of elation are heard and many are seen sobbing. World peace is enacted in acknowledgement to this monumental speech that knit the world together.
Fortnite
Minecraft
Amogus 700 years in the future
Imagine, 700 years in the future, through some last vestige of the internet kept in an underground server, a notification miraculously appears on your device (which has been preserved in nuclear dust from the 5th world war). One night, an alien working a late shift at the museum of archeology notices the cracked screen suddenly light up, and upon it, one word arises from the battered code: Amogus. They do not know what this word means. They ponder it deeply. They scour the ancient tomes, desperate to understand its mystifying origin. It drives them mad. Is it a primeval cipher? The motto of a bygone civilization? A message from God? Night after night they study it by candlelight. They flip through pages in books so old, the slightest cough would turn the paper to a fine off-white powder. The answer is nowhere to be found. And then they are struck by a revelation: I was not meant to know this word. Its esoteric nature escapes my grasp for a reason. What if its meaning is too enlightening to bear? With this revelation comes anger. Spite. Despair. Why shouldn't I understand it?! What cosmic forces are there at play to keep me from such knowledge?! In a fit of desperate rage, they shatter your device against a wall and exclaim, arms raised to the heavens: "This is literally 1984!" Silence... Their pleas are unanswered. Sadly, in the end, their inability to unlock the word's meaning drives them to suicide. Its secrets are never known. So I ask you this: is it better to die having never understood the true mind-bending nature of Amogus, or to be driven mad by the little spaceman in his blood-red suit? If you knew enlightenment would render you incapable of living on this mortal earth without making daily references to a game of space mafia, would you accept it? With knowledge comes power, but also endless suffering. Choose wisely, and be wary when standing at the edge of that great abyss we call "the Truth," lest you fall too deep.