Most people don’t know but back in 1912, Hellman’s mayonnaise was manufactured in England. In fact the Titanic was carrying 12,000 jars of this delicious condiment, scheduled for delivery in Vera Cruz, which was to be the port for the great ship after its stop in New York. This would have been the largest ever shipment on mayonnaise ever delivered to Mexico. But as we know the great ship did not make it to New York. This ship hit an iceberg and sank and the cargo was forever lost. The people of Mexico, who were crazy about the tantalising condiment, and were eagerly awaiting the delivery, were disconsolate at the loss. The anguish was so great that they declared a national day of warning which they sill observe to this day. The national day of mourning occurs every year on the 5th of May, you probably know it as Cinco de Mayo
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This player is fantastic
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This [insert CSGO team or player here] is fantastic. Just needs to work on communication, aim, map awareness, crosshair placement, economy management, pistol aim, awp flicks, grenade spots, smoke spots, pop flashes, positioning, bomb plant positions, retake ability, bunny hopping, spray control and getting a kill.
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Classic
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MY BAG OF COMMUNISTS
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☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭ SORRY I DROPPED MY BAG OF COMMUNISTS ☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭☭
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Forsen
Bear King Burry vs TSLA
Bear King Michael Burry in the ring, slappin TSLA with a metal chair. His glass eye open wide with rage as he batters TSLA relentlessly.
"The valuation..." crunch "makes...." crunch "NO.... " crunch "SENSE!" he roars with maniacal autistic glee.
TSLA struggles for the edge of the ring, but coughs blood as each hit lands, and eventually stops moving. Bear King Burry drops the chair.
Bear King Burry turns to the crowd
"Was this your champion!? Was TSLA supposed to be your chosen one!?"
A child in the crowd turns his face into his mother's side and cries.
On the side of the ring WSB can barely move. TSLA was supposed to tag them in, but couldn't make it to the side in time.
"Get up TSLA" WSB whimpers hopelessly, a single tear rolling down their cheek. "Get up..."
Bear King Burry turns to WSB
"Now it is your portfolio's turn. Get in here you little bitch."
"Excuse me." Someone replies from behind BKB. "I believe I can give you the fight you want."
A robed figure is administering smelling salts to TSLA. The figure puts TSLA on its shoulder and carries TSLA gently out of the ring.
"And just who the fuck do you think you are?" BKB rumbles ominously.
BKB's fingers squeeze so tightly on the chair that metal bends.
"Who am I?" the robed figure inquires.
The robed figure stands straight and stretches to their full height. They must be at least 7' tall.
The crowd stops crying and watches in stunned silence.
"Who am I?" The figure repeats menacingly.
The figure turns around to face BKB, ripping off his robe. A gleaming light fills the stadium. Before us stands a Golden deity, rippling with muscle. If there is an ounce of body fat it is currently in hiding, only to make way for seemingly endless coiled golden musculature.
The figure looks directly into Bear King Burry's eyes.
"I'm Goldman Sachs, and i'm here to kill you."
WallStreetBets
Year 2025, Riot takes over the world
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The year is 2025, Riot has finished acquiring Facebook and Google as well as the country of Germany, making it the first nation in terms of GDP. All games, electronic devices, appliances and vehicles are to be produced and purchased from Riot only, failure to do so may result in being set to League Reformation Camps.
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League of Legends
Pulp Fiction
⠌⠊⠆⠕⠅⠕⠌⡆⣃⠪⠢⠣⡱⡑⢕⢅⢣⠱⡡⡣⡣⡣⡣⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⣀⣠⣀⢀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⡀⡀⡀⡀⡀⡀⢄⠢⢀⠄⡁⢀⠠⠄⠄⡀⠅⠈⡈⢸⢸⢪⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⣴⣿⣿⡿⣿⡟⣿⣻⣆⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠪⡐⡌⢆⢎⢢⠶⠿⠻⡟⠻⠾⠰⡕⡝⡜⣔⢕⢕⠄⡣⡣⡣⠄⠄⠄⠄⢰⣿⣿⡿⠯⠘⠄⠁⠄⠄⠉⢢⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⡊⢔⠜⡌⠎⢈⣬⣥⣤⣴⣶⠄⠄⠈⢪⡳⣕⡕⡧⡁⣇⢇⢇⠄⠄⠄⢀⣿⡏⠈⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡃⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⡨⠢⡑⡕⠄⢐⣿⣿⡿⠿⠟⢧⠄⠄⠘⣞⡞⡮⡳⡁⣇⢇⠧⠄⠄⠄⠄⢇⡂⠄⠄⠄⡄⠄⠄⠄⢠⢀⠄⠐⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠠⡑⢌⢺⡀⠰⣤⣖⣯⢶⣽⣟⠆⡄⠄⣗⡯⣯⣣⠃⣇⢇⢏⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠐⣠⡖⡦⣽⡿⢆⠄⠚⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⢐⠨⡐⣝⣇⠄⣝⣯⢭⢽⣻⡺⠅⠄⠄⣿⢽⣳⣳⠁⢱⢱⡑⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠃⠈⠢⢕⠝⠐⠄⡑⠄⣄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⣔⣅⣆⣗⢿⡀⢐⢡⢭⢼⠸⠈⠄⠄⠄⣻⣟⣷⢷⢅⡇⡇⡇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠅⠡⠄⠄⠄⠂⣊⣼⣿⠄⢠⣀⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⣿⡯⠏⠃⠋⠃⠘⣷⣄⡀⢀⣤⠆⡄⠄⠛⣛⢙⢋⠃⢗⡝⡌⠄⣠⣤⣶⣶⡲⡶⡲⡆⢒⣶⠂⣾⣿⣿⡟⠄⠄⠙⠻⡿⡶⣦⣤⡀
⠛⠈⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢻⣿⡯⢩⣿⣿⣥⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⠛⣿⣎⢇⢀⢼⠌⠪⠁⠄⢙⠽⠻⢸⠏⠐⣿⣿⣿⠇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠠⠁⠄⠠⠃
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣀⣤⣼⡿⠗⡚⢛⣯⢿⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⣯⣧⡶⠶⠇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⠄⠄⣿⣿⡿⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣝⠁⢐⣀⢁⠄⠆⠊⠚⠛⢢⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⢭⡛⠂⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡎⠄⢸⣿⣿⡇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⡧⢸⠄⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⣮⠃⠁⠈⠉⠉⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡇⠄⢸⣿⣿⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣸⣝⢈⡇⠄⠄⠬⠐⠄⠄⡼⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢰⠁⠄⢸⣿⡏⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣿⣿⡄⠁⢰⣶⣏⠄⠄⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠸⣟⠄⡁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⠄⠄⢸⣿⠃⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢰⣿⣿⠁⠄⠈⣷⣧⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣗⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⠭⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⣿⣿⠇⠄⠄⣿⡏⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡳⠄⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⡑⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⠕⡽⣿⠄⠄⠄⣿⡇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡀⠄⠄⣻⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⢠⢠⣬⣿⣻⡆⠄⠄⣿⡇⠄⠄⠄⠄⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⠄⠄⠄⢽⡂⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⠙⠛⠛⠻⠃⠄⠄⠿⠃⠄⠄⠄⠈⠁⠄⠄⠄⠈⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠪⡂⠄⠄⣸⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢠⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠘⡀⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢰⠞⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠠⢤⣀
⣷⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡶⠄⠄⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣿⣧⡜⣾⣿⣷⢶⡠⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⠄⠄⠄⢀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⢀
⣺⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⠙⠄⠘⠉⠉⠉⠈⠈⠈⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⠠⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠐⠄⠄⠄⠈
⢷⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡀⠈⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄