The squish between your toes is I, The corn you had for brunch. You missed the bowl again last night Drunk off of two Smirnoffs. You can re-eat me, I'm only slightly acidic I still pack a crunch. The T.P. has run out again, But you can use your thumb.
The squish between your toes is I, The corn you had for brunch. You missed the bowl again last night Drunk off of two Smirnoffs. You can re-eat me, I'm only slightly acidic I still pack a crunch. The T.P. has run out again, But you can use your thumb.
Yes that's right, THINK ABOUT YOUR BREATHING. Why you might ask? Well it's simple!
Your brain usually takes care of breathing FOR you, but whenever you remember this, YOU MUST MANUALLY BREATH! If you don't you will DIE.
There are also MANY variations of this. For example, think about:
BLINKING!
SWALLOWING SALIVA!
HOW YOUR FEET FEEL IN YOUR SOCKS!
In conclusion, the THINK ABOUT YOUR BREATHING troll is simply unbeatable. These 4 words can be thrown randomly into article text trolls, into sigs, into anything, and once seen, WILL FORCE THE VICTIM TO TAKE CARE OF HIS BREATHING MANUALLY! This goes far beyond the simple annoying or insulting trolls of yesteryear.
In fact, by EVEN RESPONDING to this troll, you are proving that IT HAS CLAIMED ANOTHER VICTIM -- YOU!
You Sir, are a PEN 15 !!!!!111111111
on
Melting Europa
·
· Score: -1
Main Entry: hippie Variant(s): or hippy/'hi-pE/ Function: noun Inflected Form(s): plural hippies Etymology: 4hip + -ie : a usually young person who rejects the mores of established society (as by dressing unconventionally or favoring communal living) and advocates a nonviolent ethic; broadly : a long-haired unconventionally dressed young person - hippiedom/-pE-d&m/ noun - hippieness or hippiness/-pE-n&s/ noun
The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they liked them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I like monkeys.
Worst Post Ever Discovered By NASA Earlier Today
on
Implementing CIFS
·
· Score: -1
Scientists at NASA found today what many consider to be the worst post of all time. The sample was submitted anonymously to the editors of Slashdot, a homosexual digest for men, around 3 PM EST. Enthusiasts at the American space institution are eager to disect the discovery with hopes that they may be able to dig up clues pertaining to the history of shitty posts.
Yes that's right, THINK ABOUT YOUR BREATHING. Why you might ask? Well it's simple!
Your brain usually takes care of breathing FOR you, but whenever you remember this, YOU MUST MANUALLY BREATH! If you don't you will DIE.
There are also MANY variations of this. For example, think about:
BLINKING!
SWALLOWING SALIVA!
HOW YOUR FEET FEEL IN YOUR SOCKS!
In conclusion, the THINK ABOUT YOUR BREATHING troll is simply unbeatable. These 4 words can be thrown randomly into article text trolls, into sigs, into anything, and once seen, WILL FORCE THE VICTIM TO TAKE CARE OF HIS BREATHING MANUALLY! This goes far beyond the simple annoying or insulting trolls of yesteryear.
In fact, by EVEN RESPONDING to this troll, you are proving that IT HAS CLAIMED ANOTHER VICTIM -- YOU!
Slashdot Mirror
You heard it here first. Take cover!
I come home from work to watch the courtroom almost everyday, and I cannot believe the rags these people wear to seek justice!
Faecal Poetry
The squish between your toes is I,
The corn you had for brunch.
You missed the bowl again last night
Drunk off of two Smirnoffs.
You can re-eat me, I'm only slightly acidic
I still pack a crunch.
The T.P. has run out again,
But you can use your thumb.
The squish between your toes is I,
The corn you had for brunch.
You missed the bowl again last night
Drunk off of two Smirnoffs.
You can re-eat me, I'm only slightly acidic
I still pack a crunch.
The T.P. has run out again,
But you can use your thumb.
Hello, and THINK ABOUT YOUR BREATHING
Yes that's right, THINK ABOUT YOUR BREATHING. Why you might ask? Well it's simple!
Your brain usually takes care of breathing FOR you, but whenever you remember this, YOU MUST MANUALLY BREATH! If you don't you will DIE.
There are also MANY variations of this. For example, think about:
BLINKING!
SWALLOWING SALIVA!
HOW YOUR FEET FEEL IN YOUR SOCKS!
In conclusion, the THINK ABOUT YOUR BREATHING troll is simply unbeatable. These 4 words can be thrown randomly into article text trolls, into sigs, into anything, and once seen, WILL FORCE THE VICTIM TO TAKE CARE OF HIS BREATHING MANUALLY! This goes far beyond the simple annoying or insulting trolls of yesteryear.
In fact, by EVEN RESPONDING to this troll, you are proving that IT HAS CLAIMED ANOTHER VICTIM -- YOU!
This fp belongs to me. Eat poopies!
While you're at it, feed your brain.
Main Entry: hippie /'hi-pE/ /-pE-d&m/ noun /-pE-n&s/ noun
Variant(s): or hippy
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural hippies
Etymology: 4hip + -ie
: a usually young person who rejects the mores of established society (as by dressing unconventionally or favoring communal living) and advocates a nonviolent ethic; broadly : a long-haired unconventionally dressed young person
- hippiedom
- hippieness or hippiness
Fecal Troll Matter is dying.......stands up to wipe own ass...........eot
My President plans to eliminate you.
I don't see a crap flood. gnaa sucks.
The scarier thing is that you read it each time he posts AND you click the links. Yowza.
But I still can't log in.
-FTM
What the fucking shit?
-FTM
I like monkeys.
The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they liked them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I like monkeys.
Scientists at NASA found today what many consider to be the worst post of all time. The sample was submitted anonymously to the editors of Slashdot, a homosexual digest for men, around 3 PM EST. Enthusiasts at the American space institution are eager to disect the discovery with hopes that they may be able to dig up clues pertaining to the history of shitty posts.
8=D ~ ~~ ~ ~
Your comment looks too much like ascii art.
I heard Magic Johnson has recently been overthrown. Care to comment?
Hello, and THINK ABOUT YOUR BREATHING
Yes that's right, THINK ABOUT YOUR BREATHING. Why you might ask? Well it's simple!
Your brain usually takes care of breathing FOR you, but whenever you remember this, YOU MUST MANUALLY BREATH! If you don't you will DIE.
There are also MANY variations of this. For example, think about:
BLINKING!
SWALLOWING SALIVA!
HOW YOUR FEET FEEL IN YOUR SOCKS!
In conclusion, the THINK ABOUT YOUR BREATHING troll is simply unbeatable. These 4 words can be thrown randomly into article text trolls, into sigs, into anything, and once seen, WILL FORCE THE VICTIM TO TAKE CARE OF HIS BREATHING MANUALLY! This goes far beyond the simple annoying or insulting trolls of yesteryear.
In fact, by EVEN RESPONDING to this troll, you are proving that IT HAS CLAIMED ANOTHER VICTIM -- YOU!
You heard it here first!
Well, just stating the obvious.
cyborg monkey died last week and uhhh so did taco. k bye.
You yellow-bellied bastard.
This is moreso beaten to death than funny.
now that goatsexc is down i no longer have jackin' material. help!
-flaccid in fort lauderdale
You're industry standard and nobody aside from the cretins dwelling on Slashdot knows what The GIMP is!