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So I was playing chess with my BLACK friend the other day and something rather curious happened. As we were about to start playing he asked, “Could I play as white this time?” Why is my BLACK friend being so racist????? Clearly your color doesn’t matter and as privileged white man myself I could not bear listening to these words!!!!!! Black? White? It’s all the same guys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What the *** did you just *** say about me, you little ***? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Pole Dancers, and I’ve been involved in numerous strips, and I have over 300 confirmed handstands. I am trained in pole warfare and I’m the top Ashley in the entire US strip forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the *** out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my *** hearthstone chat. You think you can get away with saying that *** to me over the Internet? Think again, fuckers.

I discovered recently if I am on a date and I’m not that interested in a second, all I need to do is start talking about my stocks. They won’t ask for another one then, I won’t have to politely decline.

Look, having nuclear—my uncle was a great professor and scientist and engineer, Dr. John Trump at MIT; good genes, very good genes, OK, very smart, the Wharton School of Finance, very good, very smart —you know, if you’re a conservative Republican, if I were a liberal, if, like, OK, if I ran as a liberal Democrat, they would say I’m one of the smartest people anywhere in the world—it’s true!—but when you’re a conservative Republican they try—oh, do they do a number—that’s why I always start off: Went to Wharton, was a good student, went there, went there, did this, built a fortune—you know I have to give my like credentials all the time, because we’re a little disadvantaged—but you look at the nuclear deal, the thing that really bothers me—it would have been so easy, and it’s not as important as these lives are (nuclear is powerful; my uncle explained that to me many, many years ago, the power and that was 35 years ago; he would explain the power of what’s going to happen and he was right—who would have thought?), but when you look at what’s going on with the four prisoners—now it used to be three, now it’s four—but when it was three and even now, I would have said it’s all in the messenger; fellas, and it is fellas because, you know, they don’t, they haven’t figured that the women are smarter right now than the men, so, you know, it’s gonna take them about another 150 years—but the Persians are great negotiators, the Iranians are great negotiators, so, and they, they just killed, they just killed us.

The year is 2037. Ligma is now the name of a real disease. You're a doctor you just got the test results of the patient it's just as you feared it's fatal, your patient has ligma you're crying but you can't stop laughing you know you have to tell your patient that he has ligma but you can't keep a straight face you have to go out therr and tell your patient that he has only three days left to live and that there's no cure no hope not even enough time for him to finish his bucket list or find love or get the life he's always wanted he started making progress, he was doing well, his future had high hopes but he has a fatal case of ligma and you can't keep a straight face you walk out to your patient, "s-sir," you say through snickers "yes doctor? what are my test results?" your patient replies "I-I'm very sorry to say but," you respond as your sentence gets interrupted by a loud snort. "it's f-f-atal." you can't hold your laughs and you let out a bit of laughter "Is this some kind of joke? are you some sadistic creep? why the fuck are you laughing" the patient shouts out you "you h-have a fatal case of l-l-ligma," you can't hold it in anymore, you burst out laughing, you're rolling on the floor, tears in your eyes, you pee yourself a little "what the fuck is wrong with you? you're horrible! fuck you! go to hell!" your patient replies, with a face of horror, disgust, anger and sadness. he starts to cry. he's shaking you scream at the top of your lungs, "LIGMA BALLS! LIGMA BALLS! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! LIGMA BALLS!" you can't stop laughing and shouting, over and over again you repeat "LIGMA BALLS! LIGMA BALLS! LIGMA BALLS!" your patient flees, he runs as fast as he can soon the police come, they handcuff you and put you in the back of a police car. you don't know what's going to happen to you now, but you know it won't be good

slow claps steps out of the shadows Heh... not bad, kid. Not bad at all. Your meme, I mean. It's not bad. A good first attempt. It's plenty dank... I can tell it's got some thought behind it... lots of quotable material... But memeing isn't all sunshine and rainbows, kid. You're skilled... that much I can tell. But do you have what it takes to be a Memester? To join those esteemed meme ranks? To call yourself a member of the Ruseman's Corps? Memeing takes talent, that much is true. But more than that it takes heart. The world-class Memesters - I mean the big guys, like Johnny Hammersticks and Billy Kuahana - they're out there day and night, burning the midnight meme-oil, working tirelessly to craft that next big meme. And you know what, kid? 99 times out of a hundred, that new meme fails. Someone dismisses it as bait, or says it's "tryhard," or ignores it as they copy/paste the latest shitpost copypasta dreamt up by those sorry excuses for cut-rate memers over at reddit. The Meme Game is rough, kid, and I don't just mean the one you just lost :). It's a rough business, and for every artisan meme you craft in your meme bakery, some cocksucker at 9gag has a picture of a duck or some shit that a million different Johnny No-Names will attach a milion different captions to. Chin up, kid. Don't get all mopey on me. You've got skill. You've got talent. You just need to show your drive. See you on the boards...

It all started when I was dating my wife. I met her four years ago and we have been dating all 4 years. She has had the rabbit since before I met her. The little bastard is old and saggy and partially blind. Some parts of his body is missing patches of fur because he pulls it out to make a nest for himself and my wife. When we met the rabbit was not a major issue. It would scratch and bite at me but my wife assured me he was just nervous to have another person in her apartment as my wife and the rabbit lived alone since my wife was 18. We have been married one year now and the rabbit is wreaking havoc on our marriage but my wife refuses to do anything because to her the rabbit is her baby and she loves it more than anything. When I first moved in the rabbit did not do much to me or us other than the previously mentioned bites and scratches but he shows my wife too much affection for just a owner. We will be doing anything and she will have the rabbit with her on top of her chest on her breasts licking them and her face. She will not put it down at all whenever she is home with it. We eat dinner, he is there, she goes to the bathroom, he comes with, she is showering? He waits outside for her, watching her nude in the shower. Wife does not even let me in the bathroom with her. It has gone to the point where whenever I show my wife affection the rabbit seeks revenge on me. Sometimes not immediately but at times he does attack me on the spot when I kiss my wife. Sometimes I find little tiny brown balls, his shit in my closet. Another thing is that she lets the little shit roam free all day but nighttime and when we are making love. This was not previously the case but after an accident during lovemaking and much long conversations I convinced my wife to put the rabbit in its cage when we are making love. But now whenever I am making love to my wife, like clockwork, the little shit knows what we are doing and screams at the top of its lungs until my wife abandons what she is doing, even nude and comes to the smug little shits rescue. He is doing this out of pure spite. I am aware that rabbits only scream when very stressed or in danger but he is in his huge cage because my wife spoils him only during night and when we make love, I swear he is doing this to ruin our marriage. He thinks my wife is his mate and wants to get rid of me. I have scars all over my body from bites and scratches and my life refuses to do anything about the rabbit or how much time she spends with it. We are in couples therapy and our marriage is very rocky. What do I do?

Well you see, if you didn't care you wouldn't have said "Literally no one gives a shit" in the first place. If you truly did not care, you would of completely ignored the conversation from the very start. The fact that you said that just shows the childishness inside of you. All that saying "no one gives a shit" does is make you out to be an entitled, lower person who craves attention by trying to seem cool. Even if you do not care about this statement, the mere fact that you are saying "no one gives a shit" says a lot about you. And shows that you are in fact an unlikable individual. Regardless of if you care of not, these are goddamn facts, and facts do not care about your little peabrained fucking pissbaby feelings. No amount of not caring will change your unlikableness. Nobody will forget this moment and it'll be embedded into our minds for months, even years. Grow up a little before even thinking about responding to another innocent person with "No one gives a shit".

That's right. I am the IMPOSTER. I just killed my boss. I now had to convince everyone that I wasn't the imposter. "Chad is the imposter!" I randomly yelled out. Another coworker said "Well, I did see him running towards the stairs/elevator. "Wait, think about this!" Chad stated. "How do you know I'm the murderer? It could be him!" "Hmm.." My coworker, John, said. "Why do you think it's him, Darrius?" "Well," I started, "The same reason as you. I saw him running towards the elevator when the killing happened. "Wait, wait, wait!" Angelica proclaimed. "How do we know it happened on the top floor?" Another coworker, Adam, pointed out the window towards the paramedics wrapping up my boss' mangled corpse in a body bag." Oh!" Angelica said." That's a bit sussy," I said. "I think it must have been Angelica, she's pretending she doesn't know anything?" "Hmm, you might be right." My coworker Dave spoke up. "But I think that it might be you, Darrius." "Wait woah woah, why is it me?" I defended myself. He said "I saw you enter the elevator right before the murderer hit!" He said. Shit. he's onto me." Woah, you could be lying! I was in my cubicle doing my office work!" I yelled back." Oh really, what were you doing?" Dave said." I was uh.. scanning for viruses on my computer!" "Hmm.. okay." "I think that we should get rid of Liam." Angelica proclaimed. "Woah woah woah, pretty lady! Why do you think that?" He quickly hopped to his defense. "I haven't been a part of this discussion at all!" "Well, you're pale, and you work on the closest floor to the boss." Angelica replies. "Yeah, that's sus, Liam." I said. "We should get rid of him." "I agree." Chad said." Me too!" Adam said." Me three!" John said. And so we decided to throw him out the window.

Kermit the frog caused 9/11. In the 2002 TV film "It's a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie", there's a part where an angel shows Kermit an alternate reality where he was never born. For whatever reason, the editors didn't really think about it, and continued to use footage with the twin towers still standing for this scene, however they aren't there in his original universe. Therefore, something that Kermit did in his life, did in fact cause 9/11 in Muppet lore.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck mann fick fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck My parents were fighting and I thought they were rap battling so I came in and started beatboxing. Fuck fuck fuck why am I such an idiot fuck fuck fuck

Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth JPOW The Wise? I thought not. It’s not a story the Motley Fool would tell you. It’s a 🏳️‍🌈🐻 legend. Darth JPOW was a Dark Lord of the FED, so gay and such a bear he could use his money printer to influence the economy to create inflation… He had such a knowledge of the economy that he could even keep stonk prices from falling. The dark side of the economy is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be… transitory. He became so powerful… the only thing he was afraid of was losing his tendies, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught Nancy Pelosi everything he knew, then she sold at the top. Ironic. He could save others from market corrections, but not himself.

what the fuck is the point in correcting me. You think I don't know how to spell "your"? I shortened it to "ur" because I was eating chips and typing one handed and didn't want to bother with those 2 extra letters just to please a fucking lifeless fat neckbeard like you. Stop thinking you're smart just because you can correct somebody's spelling, you seem like a total fucking idiot jackass and I'm ashamed and disappointed that on the internet where there are millions of comments and commentors, I was still stuck with a response written by somebody like you. You obviously knew what I meant, it's not like I spelt "your" as "s;ldkfjs;dlfkj". Take your fucking dildo keyboard out your crusty ass and realize that maybe you have no friends and plans tonight because you're an unlikeable cumstain who repels everybody away like opposite poles on a magnet. The next time you comment like a fucking moron, ask yourself "would I rather write this useless comment or would I rather clean my fucking act up and stop being a little shitter". My New Years resolution is to never have the misfortune of you coming across any more of my comments and throwing up your shitty insight at me.