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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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know this sounds bad, but hear me out. Earlier this month, I was walking home from the store as usual. I began smelling a feint burning smell and I heard muffled shouting ahead. I picked up the pace to discover the commotion. A building was on fire and a small child was standing by the second story window shrieking for help as flames rose behind him. Luckily, I had been doing parkour ever since I was a teen so I climbed up to his window and reached out to grab the child. He reached out for me as well and I hoisted him down on my back. When we reached the ground the child ran to his parents and they thanked me while hugging him. Later today I was visiting a friend in prison who happens to be serving a sentence for attempted murder of many children. He said I was an asshole and I shouldn’t have saved the kid from the burning building. Ever since, I can’t help but feel like kind of an asshole so I would appreciate to hear a third persons perspective on this. So reddit, AITA?

I hole-hardedly agree, but allow me to play doubles advocate here for a moment. For all intensive purposes I think you are wrong. In an age where false morals are a diamond dozen, true virtues are a blessing in the skies. We often put our false morality on a petal stool like a bunch of pre-Madonnas, but you all seem to be taking something very valuable for granite. So I ask of you to mustard up all the strength you can because it is a doggy dog world out there. Although there is some merit to what you are saying it seems like you have a huge ship on your shoulder. In your argument you seem to throw everything in but the kids Nsync, and even though you are having a feel day with this I am here to bring you back into reality. I have a sick sense when it comes to these types of things. It is almost spooky, because I cannot turn a blonde eye to these glaring flaws in your rhetoric. I have zero taller ants when it comes to people spouting out hate in the name of moral righteousness. You just need to remember what comes around is all around, and when supply and command fails you will be the first to go. Make my words, when you get down to brass stacks it doesn't take rocket appliances to get two birds stoned at once. It's clear who makes the pants in this relationship, and sometimes you just have to swallow your prize and accept the facts. You might have to come to this conclusion through denial and error but I swear on my mother's mating name that when you put the petal to the medal you will pass with flying carpets like it’s a peach of cake.

Its the final hand of the Mortdog High Stakes Poker Tourney. Kiyoon can be heard screaming "its a third??” after losing the last hand. Only Raydiz and K3soju are left. Mort deals their cards. Soju smirks and says “alright, bet”. Ray, feeling confident, slides all his chips into the middle of the table “fuck it, we’re all in this round”. Soju confidently throws down his cards “3 aces, KEWK”. Ray laughs and reveals his winning hand “I have a straight flush, diamond 1 to diamond 5”

You watch her as she brushes her hair. She’s humming a song you can’t quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you. She turns. “What do you want for Christmas?” You want to scream Save your money!, but you only shrug. “Nothing, really.” “Nothing?” She crawls into bed and touches your leg. “Are you sure?” Again, you wonder why this person chose you. As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. They’ll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, “What’s wrong?” Stonks only go up. But you don’t.

Ok. Listen up bud. You’re a kid, and you’re getting cocky. You snuck in a few good quick scopes and got a few points ahead of me, but you have no chance. I am a Call of Duty god. I would be killing terrorists in Iraq if it weren’t for the fact that I would punch the drill sergeant in the face if he even looked at me funny. So don’t get cocky, bud. Or just like my kill/death ratio, you’re going down, kid. As soon as I finish the campaign I’m tracking your IP, hunting you down and beating the crap out of you. You’ve been warned.