Shit-Posts have flown their Arcs, meme'd the Threads of

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>>8865188

>>8865188
bb yes i want mor pls

This is stupid

A memeing tears across the board. It has happened before, but there are no mods to deal with it now. It is too late. The shitposting still proceeds, but it's all Redditors. There are no Wallaces in any threads. No Wallace anywhere. Above the header are other boards, old as the site itself, and an address bar far above that would take him to another website. But it's black. He's afraid the way the board will fall—soon—it will be a spectacle: the fall of a mighty forum. But coming down in total stupidity, without barking or the scent of pancakes, only great invisible CRASHING!

>>8865188
wow holy fuck. you should write a book or something and spot memeing. that was pretty good.

Memes died today.

I am seated in a thread, surrounded by redditors and shitposts.

>>8865491
There is not a single banana in this passage. How could you possibly do this with not one single banana?

Do it again.

The autism of an autumn troll thread coming through. You could feel it: something lulzy was going to happen. The filename high in the post, a minor slight, a spelling error. Post after post of memery. Anons restless, images stacking, the whole ephemeral anonymity of things coming to an end. No insight in the posts here. Word counts lengthened on strengthening butthurt. Shit posts and troll posts and dank meme posts rained scorn on OP with no mercy. Server circuits shuddered in the empty closet. And the drone and hiccup of a clothes dryer, the nasal contention of a leaf blower, the ripening of old fap syrup molding in a sweat sock, the smell of the gasoline with which Anonymous had cleaned the sweat from his morning workout on the flickering laptop.

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A wild LEARNÈD ENGLISH DOG appeared!

Spurdo, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Spur-do: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Spur. Do. Spär. De.. He was pedobear, plain pedobar, in the morning, molesting children and having briefcases of cheese pizza. He was Spurdo in finnish. He was Gondola at in webms. He was ylilautan on the dotted line. But in my mind he was always Spurdo. Did he have a precursor? He did, indeed he did. In point of fact, there might have been no Spurdo at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial meme. On a site in the early days. Oh when? About as many years before Spurdo was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a shitposter for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

All green boards resemble each other, every fucked up blue board is fucked up in its own unique way.

. . . a post, a pic an unfound webm; of a post, a pic, a gif. And of all the forgotten porn.

Naked and alone we came into 4chan. In her dark womb we did not know our janitor's face; from the prison of her catalogs have we come
into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this board.

Which of us has known his bumpers? Which of us has looked into his
OP's heart? Which of us has not remained forever prison-pent?
Which of us is not here forever a stranger and alone?

O waste of loss, in the hot threads, lost, among dank memes on this
most weary unbright cinder, lost! Remembering speechlessly we seek
the great forgotten screencap, the lost link into warosu, a
post, a pic, an unfound webm. Where? When?

O lost, and by the ban grieved, post, come back again.

>>8865491
Ok, I laughed