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.
(▀̿Ĺ̯├┬┴┬┴ Psst... kid, you wanna disable adblock?
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Holding Galactic Virgins
Virgin Galactic Holdings changes name to Holding Galactic Virgins, and announces it’s changing its business model to extraterrestrial prostitution.
Edit: SpaceX, not to be outdone, changes to SpaceSex
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Tyler1 breaks the rules
twitchquotes:
Tyler1 isn't so great? Are you kidding me? When was the last time you saw a player with such an ability and movement with Draven? Tyler puts the game in another level, and we will be blessed if we ever see a player with his skill and passion for the game again. Faker breaks records. Bjergsen breaks records. Tyler fking 1 breaks the rules. You can keep your statistics. I prefer to be ALPHA. 
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League of Legends
We can ayy if we want to
Hello, Kripparrian, this is your ass, Assarrian
twitchquotes:
Hello, Kripparrian, this is your ass, Assarrian, with a humble request to stop talking out of me. I know it's fun to pretend like you have any idea what you're talking about, and to pull random statistics out of me to support whatever point you're awkwardly trying to make, but come on! I have a hard enough time dealing with the vegan garbage in your digestive tract! Do us both a favor and use your brain once in a while! Thanks! - Assarrian.
twitch chat
Kripp
Classic
It's not gay with socks on
When I was 13 years old a buddy of mine tried to convince me to fool around. I wasn't into it, and he told me it's not gay if you're wearing socks. I didn't believe him, went home, and asked my dad.
That's 'gentleman's gay', hardly gay at all. Don't see it much these days.
The 50s were a different time. What were we to do? We were typical boarding school boys, rich with vigor, skin slick with drying sweat and gritty earth from a game of pigskin.
At night our young, virile bodies filled the dorm with sweet-musky vapors, like game-meat stewed with apple and peppercorn. You'd awake in darkness to the hushed, melodic rhythm of two pairs of white tube socks, barely visible in moonlight, bouncing on the hardwood floor.
The deep bond of male friendship played like a thousand different human instruments. The wet claps of skin on skin, the gentle thud of heads on backboards, frenzied cries in the throes of climax. Wilbur, so fat and soft like tapioca pudding. His breasts were so like the real thing, what we fantasized of our future wives. Unwilling, defenseless Wilbur, so slow and uncoordinated in the dark. 10 of us would glaze his bare, pink flesh like a giant raspberry danish. He once had the audacity to tell Headmaster Redford. But Redford was a Deerfield boy once, he understood. So he joined us on our midnight hog hunts.
Through college and years after we'd find time here and there, away from the wives at a family lake house. But it's been decades now - the times have certainly changed. If you wanted to do something private with another man, in your socks, it wasn’t ‘gay’. It was just two men, celebrating each other's strength.