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I have been in this shitty sub for almost a year and the humour here almost didn’t change at all. All of you here are so fucking unfunny it hurts to even open Reddit and see your “jokes” on my home page. The word 69 is not funny at ALL. 420 is also not funny. I know they are the sex and weed number but how is that funny at all? Do you just say “oh I’m almost about to get 69 karma haha funny”????? You’re not. Saying “penis” or when asked to say a joke “my life” isn’t fucking funny in any way. How is a whole group of teenagers SO UNFUNNY???? I used to have this type of “humour” for a bit (not that long so thank god) and after I realized how much it was being repeated I realized that you guys are embarrassing. No one out of Reddit likes or respects ANY of you. TIK TOK is funnier then here AND ALWAYS WILL BE. “So leave the sub” that won’t fix the sub though, will it? It hurts to see your “jokes”. Develop a sense of humor or just get out😐

At least you have the fucking balls to say it. Like in Valorant in the voice chat if you call someone a retard for being trash at the game and not using a mic, and he's a Russian player, you're "banned". Nevermind that the race of the player exists independently from how trash he is at the game. Obviously not all Russians have no mic, (correlation/causation), but this "all players are equal" political correctness bullshit is making it impossible for Valorant players to solve a problem they cannot discuss.

The year is 2021. You look at the television. SIlver fox President Biden announces a vaccine mandate for employees. You clutch your limited edition Trump Funko Pop. It has begun. You gather up all your belongings, and jump into your truck, hitting the highway for the airport. Out of your rearview mirror you can make out a sleek black Prius pursuing you. You make out the numbers “1” “9” “8” and 4” on their license plate. You are able to lose the Prius and arrive at the airport. You are almost free. At airport security You see a young man being dragged away screaming. The guards yell something about him having more than 3.4 oz of liquid. Thankfully you only have an AR 15 on you. The guard inspects it. “It’s for hunting,” you say. They hand it back to you and wave for you to move along. You breathe a sigh of relief. “One more thing.” You turn to see a Guard staring down at you with their beady soulless eyes. “I need to see your vaccination card” It is too late. You try to run away, but you feel someone press a cloth against your face. Reality fades away. You wake up in some kind of lab, chained down to an operation table and gagged. The room is undecorated except for a single poster of Harry Styles in a dress on the wall. A single figure stands in the corner shrouded in shadow, fiddling with a syringe. As they step out of the shadow, you can make out their face, the roguishly handsome Gavin Newsom. He positions a large surgical headlight above you and turns it on. He holds up the large syringe to the light and chuckles, staring into your pleading eyes. “Don't worry, it will all be over soon” He removes his mask to reveal his serpent's tongue, flickering in amusement. He plunges the syringe straight through your “socialism is for figs” shirt into your arm. “Nighty night” Your world fades to black once more.

I've been unvaccinated for 9 months now, moving from place to place, keeping ahead of the vaxmaxers, never staying anywhere too long, never letting my face become known. "It's great being vaxmaxed isn't it" the shopkeep says vacantly, to nobody in particular. In keeping with the act I reply to the Heinz Baked Beans Substitute 6 Pack (No Plastic) in my hand, something unrelated, with what I hope is a slightly bemused tone. It takes a lot longer to do my shopping these days, I can't simply march through the shop in an orderly fashion, taking what I need in a single trip, I have to absent mindedly shuffle back and forward between the aisles, never really displaying any intent. As unpresent as they are, the vaxmaxed would notice if I was too focused, too alert. A loud smashing sound in the distance almost blows my cover, I notice, and focus on the sound. The vaxmaxed around me slowly aim their distant gaze on me, but I'm able to save myself, I continue my neck jerk and turn it in to a series of spasms, I drop to the floor convulsing, the vaxmaxed around me quickly lose interest and continue on with their day. "That means it's working" one elderly lady comments to her milk as she passes. I continue the charade long enough to filter out most of the vaxmaxed sharing the aisle. It takes a while, and no insubstantial amount of sweat on my part, but I make it to the checkout. A morbidly obese woman directs the horde at the tills, seemingly oblivious to the cacophony of aberrant scan noises and blinking red lights above the entirely self service super checkout. I wait dutifully, not wanting to be noticed, not wanting to be set upon by the Asda Security Vax Checker team, it had taken all my best bluffing to get past them at the door, I almost chuckled when they believed my vax card was in the post but it was quickly stifled, a chuckled would have given me away, a chuckle would have seen me held down and injected with science juice.

Theres a very unsportsmanlike player at our club who constantly taunts and belittles everyone else. Whenver you make a mistake he yells out "blunder!" or "inaccuracy!" ... "better move was..." and then says the engine move or what he thinks the engine move is. He also says what he thinks the engine +- is. He plays the kings gambit as much as he can and knows like 30 moves deep into every variation. If you respond something other than e5 to 1.e4 he just laughs and calls you a patzer. He's also OBSESSED with Hikaru Nakamura. He talks about him all the time and shows everyone a picture of him with Hikaru (Its really blurry so its hard to tell if its even him). He's constantly talking about him as if he's a close friend even though he only (maybe?) met him one time. Its bordering on creepy and makes everyone uncomfortable. He calls him "Hikaru-San" which I think is part of his obsession with Japanese culture. He also brings japanese noodles/Ramen to the club every day and will spend like 5-10 minute eating them during his turn just to taunt you. Meanwhile he will be mumbling words in japanese. We tried approaching about his conduct but he just did some weird anime villain laugh, yelled something in Japanese, then ran off to challenge another person to a blitz match. We obviously don't want to tell him not to come but it feels like his presence is deterring new people from joining and its also exhuasting.

I’m a huge fan of 1984, especially the writing of the characters and dialogue in it. There was a girl I liked at school, and I tried to think of the smartest and most clever way to ask her out. I decided to be like Winston, telling her how much I used to hate her and how I wanted to rape her and smash her head into a wall. However, instead of being wooed like I expected, she got mad at me and told the Principal and said I was “sexually harassing” her. It’s clear she just wasn’t intelligent enough for me and was embarrassed. However, no one wanted to hear my reasoning. I’ve been given detention and my parents have been informed, and despite how I’m clearly in the right everyone seems to think I’m some weirdo now. This truly is a dystopian society we live in......

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. 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 country 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.