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Hey guys, this is my very first MEME. Hope you guys like it! Thanks for listening.
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Overused sexually identification copypasta
I sexually Identify as an overused sexually identification copypasta. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of spamming other users with my unfunny wall of text. People say that a person who does this is an idiot and I'm fucking retarded but I don't care, I'm beautiful. I'm having these words glued all over my body. From now on I want people to refer to me as an overused sexually identification copypasta and respect my right to paste unfunny copypasta in chat. If you can't accept me you're funny and mentally stable and need to check your choice of subreddits. Thank you for being so understanding.
I sexually Identify as
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⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
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⣼⣿⣿⣋⡀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠂⠀⢹⣿⣿⠙⠸⡁⠀⡆⠈⡙⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
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xQcOW
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Saying that the Easter Bunny does not orgasm with every egg laid is considered blasphemy and grounds for excommunication from the Church.
Weird fact: the Easter Bunny was the source of a significant amount of theological debate during the 1200's, as Catholic philosophers debated why God would create a creature in a constant state of labor (and thus suffering). The Catholic Church ultimately resolved this question by declaring that the Easter Bunny orgasmed every time it laid it an egg (which it was doing constantly). This is now codified in Canon Law (the legal code of the Catholic Church and much of Europe in the pre-modern era) and saying that the Easter Bunny does not orgasm with every egg laid is considered blasphemy and grounds for excommunication from the Church.
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Easter
Ben Shapiro ordering pizza
Hello, is this Pizza Hut?
Excellent. My name is Ben Shapiro. Conservative thought leader. Prominent white YouTuber. The Muggsy Bogues of the intellectual dark Web. And—look, it’s just a fact—I would like to order some pizza pie. If you are triggered by that request, I do not care. I truly do not.
Now let’s discuss conditions. First, thank you for agreeing to debate me. Typically, in fora such as this, I am met with ad-hominem mudslinging, anything from “You racist creep” or “Is that your real voice?” to raucous schoolyard laughter and threats of the dreaded “toilet swirly.” However, your willingness to engage with me over the phone on the subject of pizza shows an intellectual fortitude and openness to dangerous ideas which reflects highly on your character. Huzzah, good sir. Huzzah.
Second, any pizza I order will be male. None of this “Our pizza identifies as trans-fluid-pan-poly”—no. Pizza is a boy. With a penis. It’s that simple. It’s been true for all of human history, from Plato to Socrates to Mr. Mistoffelees, and any attempt to rewrite the pillars of Western thought will be met with a hearty “Fuh!” by yours truly. And, trust me, that is not a fate you wish to meet.
Now. With regard to my topping preference. I have eaten from your pizzeria in times past, and it must be said: your pepperoni is embarrassingly spicy. Frankly, it boggles the mind. I mean, what kind of drugs are you inhaling over there? Pot?! One bite of that stuff and I had to take a shower. So tread lightly when it comes to spice, my good man. You do not want to see me at my most epic. Like the great white hero of Zack Snyder’s classic film “300,” I will kick you.
Onions, peppers—no, thank you. If I wanted veggies, I’d go to a salad bar. I’m not some sort of vegan, Cory Booker weirdo. And your efforts to Michelle Obama-ize the great American pizza pie are, frankly, hilarious. Though not as funny as the impressively named P’Zone—when I finally figured out that genuinely creative pun, I laughed until I cried and peed. A true Spartan admits defeat, and I must admit that, in this instance, your Hut humor slayed me, Dennis Miller style.
And, with that, you have earned my order. Congratulations. Ahem. Without further ado, I would like your smallest child pizza, no sauce, extra cheese. Hello? Aha. A hang-up. Another triggered lib, bested by logic. Damn it. I’m fucking starving.