What if I'm already fucking myself? Behind this simple insult hides a universal paradox that may put your sexuality in question. Let's do a simple thought experiment: imagine us two standing in front of each other. I, of course, am wearing a pair of jeans, that are covering my genitals and my butt. You then command me to "go fuck myself". I may be fucking myself already. I may as well not be fucking myself already. Until my dick and its position relative to my ass is observed, it is simultaneously in my ass, but also outside of it - thus, it stays in superposition. The moment you lay eyes on my penis, both states collide with each other and become either one. You may have already guessed what the problem here is. As soon as a single photon reflected by my dick enters either one of your eyes, you become gay. The only way to avoid this is to not observe my penis. But if you don't look at it, then you will never know if your insult had any effect, thus rendering it meaningless. Since you have already made the insult, you are now, too, in superposition - you're either wrong, or gay. It's unfortunate, really - you dug a hole for yourself without even knowing it. All you can do now is accept it, and learn from your mistakes.
I used to be a real ad
More Classic Copypastas
American website, American computers, American game
Oh my gourd, I am financially ruined (agricultural futures)
I have lost everything, and I'm not sure how to continue. This summer I invested $17,500 (six months salary and my entire life savings) into ornamental gourd futures, hoping to capitalize on this lucrative emerging industry. After watching a video about Vincent Kosuga and his monopoly on onions, I decided I'd try to do something similar with another vegetable. I did some research and found out many agricultural forecasters expected this year's gourd yield would be far smaller than the past, due to deteriorating soil conditions in central Mexico and a warmer-than-average spring. At first, demand soared around Halloween and prices skyrocketed, but the gourd bubble burst on November 12th. Unfortunately, the coronavirus caused a massive drop-off in demand due to fewer families decorating their tables for thanksgiving, and prices plummeted. I had invested early enough that I thought I would still be fine, but then on the morning of December 2nd, a new email in my inbox caused my stomach to turn into a pretzel. The massive gourd shipment from Argentina, scheduled for early March, had arrived. I was planning on selling off my futures right before this, in February, but this ruined everything. To top it off, the gourds in this shipment were absolutely gargantuan, some topping 4 pounds each, causing the price-per-pound to drop like an anchor into the range of 6 cents per pound. I am ruined.
Classic
WallStreetBets
Just taking Reynad for a walk
twitchquotes:
╭( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)╯╲_____ 
Oh, don't mind me, just taking Reynad for a walk.
Oh, don't mind me, just taking Reynad for a walk.
twitch chat
Reynad
Classic
salty
"touch grass" is not an insult towards gamers
"touch grass" is not an insult towards gamers, rather it is advice for them. When participating in intense periods of gaming, the human hand has a tendency to get sweaty. The sweat causes the hand to become slick, and it b becomes more difficult to retain a grip on the gamers gaming mouse, thus making it more difficult to perform well in intense gaming moments. By touching grass with the gamers hand, the grass will impart a layer of particulate onto the gamers hand, the particulate can be made of a variety of dusts, dirts and other natural matter. This particulate will then act in a similar form to climbers chalk, absorbing the sweat and drying out the gamers hand. With dry hands, the gamer can now perform to their maximum when gaming. This is why when an enemy or teammate tells you to touch grass, they are simply trying to assist you in performing better.
Classic
Why is six afraid of seven? Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam
Why is six afraid of seven?
Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. He can seldom close his eyes without opening them again at fear of Charlies lurking in the jungle trees. Not that you could ever see the bastards, mind you. They were swift, and they knew their way around the jungle like nothing else. He remembers the looks on the boys' faces as he walked into that village and... oh, Jesus. The memories seldom left him, either. Sometimes he'd reminisce - even hear - Tex's southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes like nothing else. He always kept a pack of Lucky's with him. The boys are gone, now. He knows that; it's just that he forgets, sometimes. And, every now and then, the way that seven looks at him with avid concern in his eyes... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. Makes him feel like he's back there... in the jungle.