What's everyone's favourite copypastas

[bigtrebuchet]

for me it's gotta be

To be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand Rick and Morty. The humor is extremely subtle, and without a solid grasp of theoretical physics most of the jokes will go over a typical viewer's head. There's also Rick's nihilistic outlook, which is deftly woven into his characterisation - his personal philosophy draws heavily fromNarodnaya Volya literature, for instance. The fans understand this stuff; they have the intellectual capacity to truly appreciate the depths of these jokes, to realize that they're not just funny- they say something deep about LIFE. As a consequence people who dislike Rick and Morty truly ARE idiots- of course they wouldn't appreciate, for instance, the humour in Rick's existencial catchphrase "Wubba Lubba Dub Dub," which itself is a cryptic reference to Turgenev's Russian epic Fathers and Sons I'm smirking right now just imagining one of those addlepated simpletons scratching their heads in confusion as Dan Harmon's genius unfolds itself on their television screens. What fools... how I pity them. 😂 And yes by the way, I DO have a Rick and Morty tattoo. And no, you cannot see it. It's for the ladies' eyes only- And even they have to demonstrate that they're within 5 IQ points of my own (preferably lower) beforehand.

[ṼṏẌṏḭḊ]

Originalmente postado por l1z4rdbr34th:

Originalmente postado por ṼṏẌṏḭḊ:

Strange pointless necro

Are you saying there are "good" necros?

Nah, just that it was strange as well as being pointless. If it had been something new to add to the old dead thread, it would have just been a necro.

[bigtrebuchet]

why necro this 2 year old thread it wasnt even good

[HarleyIsntReal]

Originalmente postado por boot:

why necro this 2 year old thread it wasnt even good

the world may never know.

[Coast]

The classic "*Insult* 1vs1 in rust"

[36564176]

i thought copypastas were illegal, i replied to a dumb post with the yoshikage kira copypasta, and i think i got a short ban

[Hayter]

It was 2:37 am, I was laying in my bed in the dark, looking at communism memes, crying, and thinking about how much of a lonely piece of ♥♥♥♥ I am when there was a knock at my bedroom door. Before I could even answer it, a tall man with a big ass beard barged in. I didn't know who he was, but his presence alone seemed to comfort me, like he was just an old friend who came to visit. The bearded man got in bed with me, and wrapped his tentacle-like arms around my body, caressing me and wiping away my tears. "I'm here for you, comrade", he whispered in my ear as he stroked my hair.

The man began to gently whisper the Communist Manifesto in my ear, sending a tingling sensation throughout my body. I yawned, nearly asleep, and the bearded man kissed my forehead.

All of a sudden, my father kicks the door open and turns on the light, revealing it was Karl Marx in my bed all along. "By trespassing on my private property, you have violated the NAP," my capitalist pig father pointed his gun at Marx and shot him. Karl slumped off my bed, head first onto the carpeted floor.

"NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face once again. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS DAD?!?!?!?!"

My father didn't answer and left the room, leaving me to weep, like the selfish capitalist pig he is.

[tmwfte]

Spaghettini. It's like spaghetti, but thinner.

[no one cares]

Infinite poop. You sit on the toilet to poop, but the poop never stops coming out of your butt. You have to start flushing the toilet every two minutes to keep up. You try to pinch your butt closed but that makes your insides hurt. The poop accelerates. You call 911. The paramedics call for doctors. The doctors call for specialists. The story trends on Twitter. You turn down talk show appearances. Your septic tank fails. People form a cult. Your toilet is finished. Volunteers arrive with buckets and shovels. You are completely used to the smell. The poop accelerates. You are moved to a stepladder with a hole in the top step. The poop accelerates. The shovelers abandon the buckets and shovel directly out the window. The poop accelerates. A candlelight vigil forms around your house. One of the workers falls over and can't free himself. The poop accelerates. A priest knocks over the stepladder and tackles you out the window. You land in the pile. The poop accelerates. The force now propels you forward and upward. Vigil goers grab at your legs. The poop ignites from their candles. The Facebook live event hits 1 million viewers. The poop accelerates. You are 30 feet in the air. The fire engulfs the vigil and your house. 60 feet. The poop accelerates. The torrent underneath you is deafening. 5 million Facebook live viewers. You try to close up shop but your butthole disintegrated long ago. 120 feet up. Your house explodes. The poop accelerates. 1000 feet. You are now tracked on radar. You try to change your angle of ascent but you should have thought of that way earlier. The poop accelerates. 4,000 feet. NORAD upgrades to DEFCON 3. Concentric circles of fire engulf your city. The poop accelerates. You have broken the sound barrier. 30,000 feet. You no longer take in enough oxygen to sustain consciousness. 60,000 feet. CNN is reporting on all the world records you've broken. 200,000 feet. You are no longer alive. The poop accelerates. Your body disintegrates but your poop contrail remains. NASA can no longer track you. You break the light-speed barrier and we can no longer bear witness. The poop accelerates. Forever.

[AWAWA Liz]

Eh. What about creepypastas? Any short good ones?

[Hayter]

For context, this story takes place recently on September 28th 1918. So, I’m a normal soldier in the British army, (M27) and I’m fighting in the French village of Marcoing against the German army. I serve in the 5th Duke of Wellington’s Regiment by the way.

Anyways, in my line of fire is a man with a very weird kinda small mustache, and he seems wounded. He didn’t even bother to shoot me. He seemed like he was gonna die in a matter of minutes anyway so I was like you know what? Why not let him go. Anyways, he nodded thanks and walked off.

However about 21 years later I’m watching my television as I just repaired it, and I see some army of people with a weird wavy symbol they wear on their arms or something. And then I realize their leader has the same mustache and face as the guy I spared! That’s so WACKY!

Anyways there’s some kind of second Great War coming up because the mustache man I spared is invading something I don’t know it’s probably nothing.

Just came on this subreddit to ask AITA?

[bigtrebuchet]

Originalmente postado por Lord Haw-Haw:

For context, this story takes place recently on September 28th 1918. So, I’m a normal soldier in the British army, (M27) and I’m fighting in the French village of Marcoing against the German army. I serve in the 5th Duke of Wellington’s Regiment by the way.

Anyways, in my line of fire is a man with a very weird kinda small mustache, and he seems wounded. He didn’t even bother to shoot me. He seemed like he was gonna die in a matter of minutes anyway so I was like you know what? Why not let him go. Anyways, he nodded thanks and walked off.

However about 21 years later I’m watching my television as I just repaired it, and I see some army of people with a weird wavy symbol they wear on their arms or something. And then I realize their leader has the same mustache and face as the guy I spared! That’s so WACKY!

Anyways there’s some kind of second Great War coming up because the mustache man I spared is invading something I don’t know it’s probably nothing.

Just came on this subreddit to ask AITA?

this mightve actually happened though which is kinda insane