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I’m a huge fan of 1984, especially the writing of the characters and dialogue in it. There was a girl I liked at school, and I tried to think of the smartest and most clever way to ask her out. I decided to be like Winston, telling her how much I used to hate her and how I wanted to rape her and smash her head into a wall. However, instead of being wooed like I expected, she got mad at me and told the Principal and said I was “sexually harassing” her. It’s clear she just wasn’t intelligent enough for me and was embarrassed. However, no one wanted to hear my reasoning. I’ve been given detention and my parents have been informed, and despite how I’m clearly in the right everyone seems to think I’m some weirdo now. This truly is a dystopian society we live in......

i swear, if I hear one more time that you cant counter Viper postplant. 1) push her (duh) 2) smoke her lineup position so she cant setup the lineup 3) molly her lineup position, as above 4) bodyblock the Snakebite (this one is hilarious) 5) Sage wall to bounce, as above

If two virgins fuck and take each other's virginity, shouldn't they still have one each? Because, think about it... The definition of take is to capture and receive something, like, if little Bob got 10 dollars and I rudely took it from him, he'd most likely cry, but I'd also gain 10 dollars since I took 10 dollars from him, no? Shouldn't it be the same with virginity, but hopefully, just without the crying? You take a virginty and lose one in the process, so it should be plus-minus zero, I should still have one virginty left? So if I only fuck virgins, will I be a virgin forever? And can I have multiple virginities if I take from other virgins?

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.

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.’"

It’s 4:01pm. Bears solemnly log out of their devastated brokerage account, get up from their makeshift desk made up of a stack of empty Michelina’s frozen lasagna dinners, head up the stairs of their father’s basement, grab the keys to their tan ‘97 Chevy Cavalier and a cloth mask embroidered with the word “VOTE,” and drive down the street to the local gay bar for a holiday themed burlesque show.

Howdy, my name is Rawhide Kobayashi. I'm a 27 year old Japanese Japamerican (western culture fan for you foreigners). I brand and wrangle cattle on my ranch, and spend my days perfecting the craft and enjoying superior American passtimes. (Barbeque, Rodeo, Fireworks) I train with my branding iron every day, this superior weapon can permanently leave my ranch embled on a cattle's hide because it is white-hot, and is vastly superior to any other method of livestock marking. I earned my branding license two years ago, and I have been getting better every day. I speak English fluently, both Texas and Oklahoma dialect, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about American history and their cowboy code, which I follow 100% When I get my American visa, I am moving to Dallas to work in an oil field to learn more about their magnificent culture. I hope I can become a cattle wrangler for the Double Cross Ranch or an oil rig operator for Exxon-Mobil! I own several cowboy hats, which I wear around town. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to America, so I can fit in easier. I rebel against my elders and seniors and speak English as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond. Wish me luck in America!

I've been unvaccinated for 9 months now, moving from place to place, keeping ahead of the vaxmaxers, never staying anywhere too long, never letting my face become known. "It's great being vaxmaxed isn't it" the shopkeep says vacantly, to nobody in particular. In keeping with the act I reply to the Heinz Baked Beans Substitute 6 Pack (No Plastic) in my hand, something unrelated, with what I hope is a slightly bemused tone. It takes a lot longer to do my shopping these days, I can't simply march through the shop in an orderly fashion, taking what I need in a single trip, I have to absent mindedly shuffle back and forward between the aisles, never really displaying any intent. As unpresent as they are, the vaxmaxed would notice if I was too focused, too alert. A loud smashing sound in the distance almost blows my cover, I notice, and focus on the sound. The vaxmaxed around me slowly aim their distant gaze on me, but I'm able to save myself, I continue my neck jerk and turn it in to a series of spasms, I drop to the floor convulsing, the vaxmaxed around me quickly lose interest and continue on with their day. "That means it's working" one elderly lady comments to her milk as she passes. I continue the charade long enough to filter out most of the vaxmaxed sharing the aisle. It takes a while, and no insubstantial amount of sweat on my part, but I make it to the checkout. A morbidly obese woman directs the horde at the tills, seemingly oblivious to the cacophony of aberrant scan noises and blinking red lights above the entirely self service super checkout. I wait dutifully, not wanting to be noticed, not wanting to be set upon by the Asda Security Vax Checker team, it had taken all my best bluffing to get past them at the door, I almost chuckled when they believed my vax card was in the post but it was quickly stifled, a chuckled would have given me away, a chuckle would have seen me held down and injected with science juice.

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?

Holy shit! You identify as an attack helicopter? I’ve never heard that joke before, but it’s so genius! You sir, or madame, or helicopter, are the absolute most hilarious and original person I have ever seen in my entire life. Move over, Jerry Seinfeld. Get lost, Brian Regan. Out of the way, Family Guy Funny Moments Compilation #53. There’s a new funniest man in town. Holy shit, I just can’t get over this joke. I’m giggling and guffawing harder than ever before. You should win an Oscar and an Emmy and a Grammy and a Nickelodeon Kid’s Choice Award. Attack helicopter gender! Wow! So funny! Take that, liberals! Haha. Every night since I was born I have looked up to the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling and wondered, “I hope one day I can be as funny as the attack helicopter gender guy.” I will tell my children, and my children’s children, all about the absolute hilarity that went down just now. You just broke the Guinness World Record for funniest and most original jokester on the planet. I’m fucking simultaneously shitting and cumming because this joke is just so funny. Holy shit. That was an amazing joke, my guy. I’m gonna make a subreddit dedicated entirely to this one joke. It’s gonna get thousands of members! History books will forever remember the time you said, “I identify as an attack helicopter.” It’ll go right there in the important quote book, right between Patrick Henry and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I just can’t believe I was here to witness such grandeur. I was here! I think I’m going to make a whole religion based on worshipping you, my glorious and hilarious attack helicopter God. This is just so funny I can’t believe it! Hahahahahahahahahaha! I think I’m going to go to the hospital and fucking die from laughing to hard, but that’s okay! This is even funnier than that guy who said he identified as a toaster! Can you believe it? I never thought that very different joke could be topped, but here we are! Did I mention how funny and original that joke was? Ah, well done, sir, or madame, or helicopter. This is an experience I won’t forget any time soon. Ha. Haha. Ha. Lol. Lmao. Haha. Jajaja. Lmfao. Rofl, rotfl, ha.

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.