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I finally did it. I out pizza'd the Hut. It was the greatest mistake of my life. After years of perfecting my recipe, I made my way down to the local hut, fresh-baked pizza pie in hand. "Try this," I told the kid working the counter. He did, and he had to agree that it was better than anything Pizza Hut had to offer. Soon, the entire store, customers included, was feasting on my delicious pie. The manager walked over, grabbed a slice, and took a bite. I look at him, anticipation rising. This was the boss, the local fief lord of the Hut. His approval meant more to me than all the rest combined. He took a bite and nodded. "I'll be damned," he said, "you really did it. You out- pizza'd the Hut. Shame." Shame? What did he mean by tha-- the manager pulled a gun out from behind his apron and shot the nearest customer in the head. "We have a Code Jalapeño," he said into his wrist as he executed the remaining customers. "I repeat, we have a Code Jalapeño." The ground was slick with blood. The kid working the counter choked out his dying breath as the manager turned to me. "You just had to do it motherfucker. You just had to out pizza the Hut." He shoved the gun in my face. I was too scared to fight, too scared to run. The manager pulled the trigger. A click. The gun was empty. I threw a chair at the manager and scrambled out of the Pizza Hut, not even bothering to see if my missile hit its mark. I was closely pursued by the manager, who had gotten his hands on a deadly sharp pizza cutter. I suspected in his hands it would cut more than pizza. Somehow, I was able to get into my car and speed off, the manager cursing my existence as I left him behind. I took a deep breath. The manager was clearly psychotic. Yes, that was it, just a crazy man with a gun. It had to be. My phone rang. Sister. I picked it. "They're dead, she sobbed. They're all dead. Mom, Dad, Chris, Bill. Dead. They killed them all." I could barely understand her, so great were her sobs. "What do you mean? Where are you?" I asked urgently. "How is this possi--" A single gunshot sounded through my phone's speakers. Silence. Then, I heard a man's voice. "No one out pizzas the Hut." He hung up. I drove down the empty country road, mind blank. I had nothing. They killed my family. I was alone. At that moment I knew what I had to do. They took everything from me. Well then, I would take everything from them. Pizza Hut was so terrified of being out pizza'd, they forgot there's one thing worse than a man with a recipe: A man with nothing to lose. I'll give them a limited time offer they won't be able to refuse: two bullets for the price of one. With a free side order of pain.

At least you have the fucking balls to say it. Like in Valorant in the voice chat if you call someone a retard for being trash at the game and not using a mic, and he's a Russian player, you're "banned". Nevermind that the race of the player exists independently from how trash he is at the game. Obviously not all Russians have no mic, (correlation/causation), but this "all players are equal" political correctness bullshit is making it impossible for Valorant players to solve a problem they cannot discuss.

Back when I (68M) was a young and dumb twenty-something, I spent a few carefree years in Southern California raping, torturing, and murdering hitchhikers. I don't want any judgement from SJWs about this, please, if you didn't live in Cali in the 1970s, you wouldn't understand. It was just what we did back in those days. Eventually I grew up, got married, had three beautiful kids, and was content to just get off to my trophies and polaroids, and maybe kill the occasional drifter on special occasions. The other day, my wife (37F) found the hidden panel in my basement wall where I keep all the old memories, and she went ballistic. I tried to calm her down, explained that, firstly, they were all dudes, so she shouldn't exactly be getting jealous. Second, they're all dead, so it's not like she's going to have to worry about me leaving her for any of them. Third, there were like three or four other guys doing the same thing around then, and they took the credit for most of my kills. I was very careful, covered my tracks, rarely finished inside them. I don't know why she's got her knickers in such a twist. Quite frankly, I'm feeling really hurt about the whole thing. We've been together for nearly thirty years, and she's thinking about leaving me over something like this? Maybe I should have been more honest, but I was raised to see this as men's business, not something you involve your old lady in. Am I the asshole?

This has been growing in me for a while, but the more I see what’s going on in africa and the middle east, and all the bullshit around the world in the name of religion, I’ve gotten to a point where I’m looking at all religious people as not even human. I don’t know if I quite see them as livestock or wild animals or whatever, but it’s pretty close to it. I still don’t understand why people say to respect other people’s religious beliefs. I certainly don’t. I actually think religious beliefs should be mocked, ripped apart, criticized relentlessly, and actually probably be made illegal. I hope to see a future where believers are looked at as mentally ill and mentally retarded, who need to be locked up and treated, or sent to jail. I’m just so disgusted by all of them.

Senator Kamala Harris started her life’s work young. She laughs from her gut, the way you would with family, as she remembers being wheeled through an Oakland, California, civil rights march in a stroller with no straps with her parents and her uncle. At some point, she fell from the stroller (few safety regulations existed for children's equipment back then), and the adults, caught up in the rapture of protest, just kept on marching. By the time they noticed little Kamala was gone and doubled back, she was understandably upset. "My mother tells the story about how I’m fussing," Harris told the magazine. "And she’s like, ‘Baby, what do you want? What do you need?’ And I just looked at her and I said, ‘Fweedom.’"

Short story-time for amusement reasons only: some days ago, I went to my bank (Austria). I am the owner of quite a number of GME shares and my broker app is actually just the bank-intern bond trading app, where I need to pay transactional feed everytime I buy (what is sell?) GME shares. I informed myself about the reasoning of those transactional fees beforehand and found out that by paying them, I have the right of consultation by my bank about the shares they‘re trading/I‘m buying. So, I went to the main national building of my bank, they were really friendly at the beginning, enthustiatically, I mentioned GME to them and that I wish for professional consultation about the financial details involved with that stock (I am not a financial guy, actually, I don‘t exactly know what‘s going on, it‘s all pretty crazy to me). Suddenly, their posture and mimick changed pretty suddenly. I was told, they are not allowed to consult about GME. To my question, why this was the case, they told me, because GME is „too irrelevant for the big stock market“. They are „aware of the past short squeeze, but one should no longer focus on GME“. They acted as if GME was some „childish financial playground“ that should be forgotten about. When I confronted them with the huge recent naked short attacks and if they could explain to me possible effects of them if they were not covered, they just repeated themselves how „GME is not relevant, please focus on stocks like Apple or Amazon to be safe“. I left the bank, buying more GME shares.

Fuck this is so embarrassing. I'm literally shaking so hard rn. So like the randy horny mf I am, I was jerking off and edging myself before one of my online classes. Then the class started so I joined. Our teacher's pretty strict and all and expects cameras on at all times. So I just sat there whilst everyone joined, still horny as hell. I had my dick pressed between my legs still. Teacher's going round asking us how the weekend went yada yada. So now it's my turn to speak. I unmute my mic to say my stuff and whilst I'm talking I squeeze my legs a little too hard and come hard as fuck causing to me to literally moan LIKE A FUCKING WHALE and make my horrid contorted orgasm face RIGHT ON FUCKING CAMERA WITH MY MIC UNMUTED WHILST THE ENTIRE CLASS OF 40 STUDENTS ARE WATCHING. LET'S NOT EVEN FORGET THAT MY FACE WAS FULL-SCREEN WHILST I WAS SPEAKING. In a total crazy panic, I leave the class. I'm dropping that class asap. No, scratch that. Dropping out of college altogether. No way can I go back there again. Might as well drop off this earth while I'm at it.

I have been in this shitty sub for almost a year and the humour here almost didn’t change at all. All of you here are so fucking unfunny it hurts to even open Reddit and see your “jokes” on my home page. The word 69 is not funny at ALL. 420 is also not funny. I know they are the sex and weed number but how is that funny at all? Do you just say “oh I’m almost about to get 69 karma haha funny”????? You’re not. Saying “penis” or when asked to say a joke “my life” isn’t fucking funny in any way. How is a whole group of teenagers SO UNFUNNY???? I used to have this type of “humour” for a bit (not that long so thank god) and after I realized how much it was being repeated I realized that you guys are embarrassing. No one out of Reddit likes or respects ANY of you. TIK TOK is funnier then here AND ALWAYS WILL BE. “So leave the sub” that won’t fix the sub though, will it? It hurts to see your “jokes”. Develop a sense of humor or just get out😐