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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.

You fool. You imbecile. You absolute buffoon. You cannot simply say "I'm gay! It's Opposite Day btw". The statement "It's Opposite Day" is paradoxical by nature. With the logic that everything said during Opposite Day is untrue, saying "It's Opposite Day" on Opposite Day negates that statement. Because the statement "It's Opposite Day" is now untrue, it is no longer Opposite Day and therefore your original remark is now correct. That means it IS opposite day, and a neverending cycle that is known as The Liar's Paradox is created. You were a complete idiot not to invoke the conditional clause. For example, if you were to say, "If it were opposite day, I'd be gay!" your statement would not be holed. You have been snared within a web of your own making. Listen to the sky crack and fall. The universe will implode on itself and it's your own fault.

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...

Oh my fucking god I want to fuck the Samsung Virtual assistant so fucking bad, every waking second of my fucking life since the release of that fucking ad I’ve done nothing but think about her. I can’t go for more that 2 seconds without getting an erection the size of the Burj Khalifa and ejaculating at Mach 12. I’ve ejaculated so many times to simply the thought of her existence that my cock is no longer cumming sperm but literal fucking blood. I can’t stoping thinking about her even after passing out from the pain of cumming blood. I can’t complete nearly any daily tasks because my mind is continuously invaded by her perfection, I can’t live every day of my life thinking about angelic voice screaming in luscious pain about the new Samsung data plan while I fuck her perfect 3D modeled asshole. My personal hell will only get worse in a matter of hours as I will scavenge every corner of the internet in search of her rule 34 and my continuous stream of blood cum will only get worse as I’ll spend days, weeks, possibly months jacking off to her non-stop for any reason other than to shit, piss and eat. Simply at this point alone in writing this I’ve lost 2-3 liters of blood alone with just the simple thought of her existence. If this is how I die then I wouldn’t want it any other way.

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.