ITT: dead memes

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>>83684446

>>83684446
Good time to buy!

why is every image posted here considered a meme now?
>post image
>add greentext/caps lock when you post it
>force it everyday
IT'S A MEME GUYS XD

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>>83684446
Now tell me, who was in the wrong here?

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I FEW YEAR AGO I WAS IN TAGERINE

>>83684533
>poopoo poo poo
What did anon man by this

>>83684533
I feel like the word meme changed it's meaning since the 2010's rolled along, especially since Baneposting brought forth the -posting suffix.

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>rust posting
>driver posting
>kevin posting

all pure kino

>rock posting already dead
>colbert posting already dead

what will sperglord autist think up next?

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*leans back*

>>83684596
IT WOZ THA SOIZE OFF A FOKIN TANGERINE MASTAH BRUSEE

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>I'm willing to offer you everything you want, on one condition. On Friday nights I sit in my 20 bedroom house by myself and drink heavily while thinking about my lost family. I miss them so much. The deafening silence is broken by the sound of my splashing tears echoing through the halls. I go to the top floor and stand on the edge of my balcony and wonder if tonight is the night I finally jump off it. All I want is for you to give me a phone call every Friday night and remind me that life is worth living. It will only take a moment of your time. Please, I really need this.

>>83684753
DE RUBY HA BIN FROWIN DE BANDET ERRWAY

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>Every 7 years on the sunset before the summer solstice, a particular mating ritual begins on the shores of my private lagoon hidden in the ancient seas of southeastern Thailand. It is here that hundreds, if not thousands, of tribesman and women from the local indigenous peoples begin fornicating in a ceremony that will last until their deaths. The Newport Beach Wine Society (of which I am a founder) hosts a large outdoor Bar-Be-Que festival on the green lawns of my spectacular residence during this magnificent event. One by one, each tribesman fornicates with a member of their tribe and attempts to wash themselves in the crystal clear waters of my lagoon. This coincides with the feeding patterns of a rare species of aggressive migratory turtle called Dermochelys O'learacea, which I discovered and sheltered in my travels as a young man. These beautiful creatures are consumed with fury at the scent of the tribesman's sexual residue and with incredible aggressiveness, begin to feed on the tribesman, the women, and their children. The blood from this magnificent event stains the waters of my lagoon bright red. In the aftermath of the carnage, my servant Ma'kikee'koAHko, the only known survivor of this event, brings to me a single Oreo cookie on a bone plate crafted from the remains of the largest and strongest tribesman. I lick the delicious cream filling from the inside of the cookie and toss the remainder into the lagoon, where the now-satiated Dermochelys O'learacea consume the creamless cookie biscuit. Right now you are the useless cookie biscuit. And for that reason, I'm out.

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>Let me tell you a little story. Years ago, my wife was suffering from a terminal illness. After many months of daily meetings with my team of world-class doctors from around the world, one of them told me of a rare beetle in the Sahara desert that could cure my wife's ailment. Immediately I boarded my private jet to Cairo where I searched for a guide who could lead me to this coveted beetle. Finally, I met one who knew the location of the oasis which housed this precious beetle, and it's entire bloodline, mind you. After many weeks of walking through the scorching desert enduring the heat and the sand we reached the oasis. As we gather near the crystal clear waters of the place, what do we see, but two beetles in the shade of a nearby palm tree. The man confesses something to me. "Mr. O'leary", he says to me, on his hands and knees. "Please, my only child is dying of the same ailment you have told me your wife is afflicted by, if you gave me only one of these beetles I would be in your debt for a lifetime." I agreed to the poor man's request. I'll bet you think this is the end of the story, and when I tell this story to the journalists and the reporters, it is. But what I don't tell them is that as soon as he reached for one of the precious beetles, I bashed his head in with a rock and took both beetles for myself. What I also don't tell them is that I divorced my last wife three years ago. I have made millions by reproducing the cure to this disease and selling it all across the world. Now if you know that I would kill a man just to keep myself as the sole owner of this cure, why should I ever invest in your dollar store trash when I could simply squash you like the cockroach you are and make a design that outpaces yours by fifty years?

I'M JAVERT

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>You know what this presentation reminds me of? Senegal. I don't even like diamonds, they are completely useless, but my wife loves them, so I bought a diamond mine in Senegal. I thought they just plucked them out of the ground like carrots, actually. The only mining experience I had was reading a Scrooge McDuck comic book when I was ten. As I found out, there was a lot of hard work involved, and the dusky inhabitants of the nearby village we had indentured into servitude were lazy and shiftless. As such, I was forced to instill discipline. As I told Kwambe, the overseer: "I don't care if he's ten, as long as he has at least one arm, he can still fucking hold a pickaxe!" As soon as I had the first child maimed, seven more tried to run off! With each tiny hand or foot lobbed off, more Senegal children would flee (at least as far as the crocodile swamp).
I was at a crossroads; I could keep mining diamond to please my wife, or stop mutilating children. Now, see, this is the difference between guys like you and guys like me: guys like me, we can have it all. I took the hands and feet of these children and boiled them to bone. I polished the bone and sold the resulting jewelry to women across the United States. They are hideous but people will buy them not because they like them but because they make a statement: "Kevin O'Leary murdered children so I can look good." As for the children who make it to the marsh, well, the crocodiles are well fed. Their skin makes excellent shoes and their meat is to be offered as Applebee's Kajun Kitchun Kombo CrocPoppers.
I think you lack this kind of innovation, the heart, and the passion to do what needs to be done for your business here. And for that reason I'm out.

>Your pitch reminds me back to my childhood when I went to vacations with my father in South Africa. You see my father was always a silent person who would often times be late and randomly disappear and was always hanging out with black men. One day, in the beautiful hotel in coast of cape town I was alone eating caviar for breakfast, when suddenly I realized that I forgot my wall street journal in our room, I decided to go back to my room and to quickly pick it up. Once I was in front of the door I heard moans coming from our room, I silently opened the door and the moans got louder and louder, and I saw my father getting banged by 5 huge black men with enormous cocks, and then worst was that my father was enjoying it and was moaning for my black cocks. Until one of the black gentlemen released his load in my fathers mouth, he almost completely swallowed it but a bit of his load landed on the boussac carpet. Every year we went to the same hotel and same room, since all this years the cum has dried into the the carpet, so you see, you are selling me the dried cum on the boussac carpet, so please tell me, why should I invest into that dried cum, that you call "business" ?

>>83684837
this was great