Yeah I read that too. Are you gonna plagiarize the whole thing for us? Do you have any thoughts of your own on this matter? Is that your thing? You come into a thread, you copy some obscure passage and then paste it off as your own idea just to impress some of your "crew" and downvote my friend? See the sad thing about a guy like you is that in 50 years you're gonna start doing some thinking on your own and you're gonna come up with the fact that there are two certainties in life One, you are a talentless and unoriginal hack. And two, you wasted time trying to post other people's thoughts as your own while you could've been honing your skills to be actually creative instead of a thoughtless loser with a paste fetish.
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Harambe Rick Harrison
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Hi. I'm Harambe, and this is my Zoo. I live here with my old zookeeper and banana, Big Yellow. Everything in here has a heart and a mind. One thing I've learned after 17 years - you never know WHAT is gonna come over that enclosure.
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Rick Harrison
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Harambe
i think its hilarious u kids talking shit about reynad
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i think its hilarious u kids talking shit about reynad. u wouldnt say this shit to him at lan, hes jacked. not only that but he wears the freshest clothes, eats at the chillest restaurants and hangs out with the hottest dudes. yall are pathetic lol.
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Reynad
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Do British people even exist?
Do british people actually exist? I mean, they must be a meme, there is a not a single thing about them. And I mean it.
Let's go through the evidence: Where are they from? Not a single country in the world is named Britain. Some people say they come from England, and England is inside Britain, but if that was the case they would be British they would be Englanders. Also, heard some silly theories about them coming from whales. Guys, no, whale people do not exist. Whales live in the sea.
There is a consensus on British people coming from Europe, but then we are left with a whole continent of possible locations. That's as good as nothing. What do they eat? Every country has at least one main dish. Even the US has their burgers. But these British people, what do they eat? Heard some people associating them with tea, but everyone knows that's an Asian thing. Shouldn't they come from Europe? One of these two points must be wrong them. To me, it looks too sketchy.
What language do they speak? I challenge you, putting all my money and my ass on the line here, to find a supposed ""British"" person speaking their native language. Most of then just speak a broken ENGLISH. Yes, english. Really suspicious, huh? And I even tried to look deeper into it. Maybe british just SOUND like english, just like spanish could sound like portuguese for a non-speaker. So I looked up "british dictionary on google" and what I found was shocking: every word in there was AMERICAN. I kid you not. What this could mean is beyond my capabilities, but I can safely assure you that british people do not exist .
British People
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YA SPAM IT
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ヽ༼◥▶ل͜◀◤༽ﾉ THIS IS OUR CHAT MODS ヽ༼◥▶ل͜◀◤༽ﾉ (̿▀̿ ̿Ĺ̯▀̿ ̿)̄ YA SPAM IT (̿▀̿ ̿Ĺ̯▀̿ ̿)̄
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Kripp
I finally did it. I out-pizza'd the Hut
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. M-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 county 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.