perp montages in 2019 lul
- Thread starter Taylor
- Start date
- Thread starter
- #3
listen u fucking swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. I wager you couldn't empty a boot of excrement were the instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.
You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus.
And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have to us who think and reason? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh.
You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed , drooling meatslapper. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.
So there I was, putting on my rape slippers and practicing my sexual harassment pickup lines this morning. I had just got done cyberbullying my co-workers and neighbours as one does before coffee in the morning.
It was time to shave.
Walking up the stairs, I yelled at my wife to smile because she should do as she's told, before pinching her butt right after she told me she didn't consent to it. Putting on the shaving cream and thinking about how I can get my boys into a fight at the next neighbourhood BBQ, I replaced the worn Gillette brand Mach3 and began to chant "boys will be boys" as I started to shave.
Suddenly, my wife bursts into the bathroom holding her phone. I viciously grabbed her by the hair because, as my father taught me, every man is has the god given right to abuse females. I angrily began to mansplain to her why she isn't smart enough to know my shaving time is my time and she should get back to the kitchen.
With tears in her eyes, she showed me the new Gillette ad.
I realized how my every view and behaviour I've ever held dear was wrong. I'm calling in sick at the toxic masculinity factory today and registering as a submissive at the Fawcett Society. I may even dispose of my Otaku Hitler body pillow.
Thanks Gillette.
What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.
Prostitutes, slut, broken, this is not enough, say to me? I knew I graduated him at the top of his seal class and I was involved in a number of assaults I've seen. Quaedam a secret, I'm high, gunmen in the US More than 300 have confirmed I trained gorilraeul fighting. This is not another problem you can do for me. I rub my fucking words with enough precision to include an alternative label, and I looked at the ground. Did you say something on the internet or egeyi think you can get away? Think back, you bastard. In the United States, our IP Worm is your best secret spy web chat query, it is in the storm ready, now observed. Border Storm is a poor little thing that you call your life. Necrosis of the child. I can kill them no matter 7 more than one side, go with only your own hands. Not only that, but I'm playing, shit intensive training, I can visit the US Marine Corps full uniform to face the mainland ass day, used to remove as much as possible. If you are alone, maybe you can not determine the language, prostitution is, whether "clever" in your opinion what happened fine a little bad thing. But he did not, now for you, you will not be able to pay for fools. I shit your gas and you'll be drowned. Your fucking child is dead.
Deleted member 1235
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To be quite frank, one does need to have a rather significant amount of intellect to comprehend Richard & Mortimer. Why, just yesterday I attempted to show my cousin (who has just entered his seventh year) the episode where the titular character, Rick, turns himself into a pickled cucumber. He laughed at the mere thought of a man become fermented vegetable, but I sat there watching, lamenting the deeper message: the death of intellectual pursuit, the desensitization to societal filth, muck, and mire, and the shameless abandonment of psychological understanding.
At the end my cousin turned to me and proclaimed, "I am the scientist that was once named Rick, but I have now become a pickled cucumber. Look at me, I am pickled Rick!", and I could not help but smile, not that the line he had just recited was humorous, but at the realization that this, in front of my very eyes, was the sum of what the episode had just warned against.
I cannot blame my cousin just as much as a man cannot blame a dog for consuming its own bile. It merely does not know any better, and what could be said about a man who judges things he does not have merit to judge?
At the end my cousin turned to me and proclaimed, "I am the scientist that was once named Rick, but I have now become a pickled cucumber. Look at me, I am pickled Rick!", and I could not help but smile, not that the line he had just recited was humorous, but at the realization that this, in front of my very eyes, was the sum of what the episode had just warned against.
I cannot blame my cousin just as much as a man cannot blame a dog for consuming its own bile. It merely does not know any better, and what could be said about a man who judges things he does not have merit to judge?
Sluts, sluts, I fuck sluts. Sluts get fucked when I fuck sluts. No "if"s, "and"s and/or but's. I fuck sluts. I fuck sluts. Nice girls are nice but no good for nut-sucking, You'll need a serene night to green-light a butt fucking, But that'll be easy with sleazy old slut fucking. Boo to the nice girls. Praise be to slut fucking! I have a list. A list? Yes, a list of all the sluts I've missed. I've never fucked or sucked these sluts and thus my nuts are fucking pissed. So when I fuck the lucky slut my nut removes her from the list. Another dumb cum-bucket struck from my nut-sucking, Suck it slut, slut fucking bucket list. Sluts can be white, black, brown, pink, or almond. They can be skinny with big tits or be skinny with small ones. Sluts can be perky, preppy or posh with their brains and their clothes all shrunk from the wash. But other sluts are pretty and funny and smart. These sluts can lift all your thoughts from your dick to your heart. They can talk about science, music, or art. They can put you together or they can pull you apart. But don't trust these sluts, don't, don't you dare. They'll force you to trust them and love them and care. And then they'll be gone and then you'll be aware
Of that hole in your heart that that dumb slut left there.
Of that hole in your heart that that dumb slut left there.
Deleted member 5920
Guest
I saw Ayjay at a Tesco in Hull yesterday. I told him how cool it was to meet him in person, but I didn’t want to be a douche and bother him and ask him for photos or anything.
He said, “Oh, like you’re doing now?”
I was taken aback, and all I could say was “Huh?” but he kept cutting me off and going “huh? huh? huh?” and closing his hand shut in front of my face. I walked away and continued with my shopping, and I heard him chuckle as I walked off. When I came to pay for my stuff up front I saw him trying to walk out the doors with a Dummy's Guide to LUA in his hands without paying.
The girl at the counter was very nice about it and professional, and was like “Sir, you need to save PERPHeads.” At first he kept pretending to be tired and not hear her, but eventually turned back around and blamed Bolli.
When she took one of the bars and started scanning it multiple times, he stopped her and told her to scan them each individually “to prevent any electrical infetterence,” and then turned around and winked at me. I don’t even think that’s a word. After she scanned each bar and put them in a bag and started to say the price, he kept interrupting her by being inactive really loudly.
He said, “Oh, like you’re doing now?”
I was taken aback, and all I could say was “Huh?” but he kept cutting me off and going “huh? huh? huh?” and closing his hand shut in front of my face. I walked away and continued with my shopping, and I heard him chuckle as I walked off. When I came to pay for my stuff up front I saw him trying to walk out the doors with a Dummy's Guide to LUA in his hands without paying.
The girl at the counter was very nice about it and professional, and was like “Sir, you need to save PERPHeads.” At first he kept pretending to be tired and not hear her, but eventually turned back around and blamed Bolli.
When she took one of the bars and started scanning it multiple times, he stopped her and told her to scan them each individually “to prevent any electrical infetterence,” and then turned around and winked at me. I don’t even think that’s a word. After she scanned each bar and put them in a bag and started to say the price, he kept interrupting her by being inactive really loudly.
Deleted member 1235
Guest
I was born into a family of non-yeeters. Every morning before I went to school my father would say, "if I ever find out that you've hit that yeet, I'll thump ya."
"Yes, pa," I would always reply. It was a regular occurrence for him to burst into my room unannounced while I was relaxing or doing homework.
"Y'all hitting that yeet?" he would seeth.
"No, pa," I would answer.
"Good." He would then walk out the room and shout, "If I ever catch ya, it's a thumpin'."
It was a difficult upbringing. I had seen my friends hittin' that yeet at school, and many of them encouraged me to partake.
I would swallow my pride. "No thanks. I don't wanna catch a thumpin' from pa." As a result, I was an outcast. A loner. I became depressed, knowing that I would never be like my peers, I would never fit in - I would never hit that yeet.
One day, when I was still but a wee lad, I became curious. I was in my room, watching Instagram videos of fellas my age hittin' that yeet all over town without a care in the world. My intentions got the better of me. I stood up, my knees trembling. Carefully, I leaned onto my right foot and raised my hand in the air.
I breathed in.
"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!"
My father burst from my closet. "I told you I'd thump ya if I ever caught you hittin' that yeet, nibba," he ejaculated. Then, he thumped me.
I haven't hit that yeet since.
Until today. This morning was my father's funeral. At the procession, my brother asked me to say a few words. I told him I only needed one.
With confidence, I approached the podium. I gazed out upon the gathering of sad faces. I cleared my throat and leaned into the microphone.
"Yeet," I spake.
Suddenly, my father leapt from his hand-crafted mahogany coffin, the gunshot wound still in his chest. He sprinted up to the podium with the energy of a man without a gunshot wound in his chest.
"Y'all hittin' that dirty fuckin' yeet at my funeral?" he ejaculated. He raised his hand to thump me.
"Not so fast, pa." I grabbed his hand. "Yaint thumpin' no mo'."
My father looked at me with eyes as open as the gunshot wound in his chest. A tear fell from his right eye, which also had a monocle. "The student becomes the teacher," he said.
"The student becomes the yeetcher," I corrected him.
"Yes, pa," I would always reply. It was a regular occurrence for him to burst into my room unannounced while I was relaxing or doing homework.
"Y'all hitting that yeet?" he would seeth.
"No, pa," I would answer.
"Good." He would then walk out the room and shout, "If I ever catch ya, it's a thumpin'."
It was a difficult upbringing. I had seen my friends hittin' that yeet at school, and many of them encouraged me to partake.
I would swallow my pride. "No thanks. I don't wanna catch a thumpin' from pa." As a result, I was an outcast. A loner. I became depressed, knowing that I would never be like my peers, I would never fit in - I would never hit that yeet.
One day, when I was still but a wee lad, I became curious. I was in my room, watching Instagram videos of fellas my age hittin' that yeet all over town without a care in the world. My intentions got the better of me. I stood up, my knees trembling. Carefully, I leaned onto my right foot and raised my hand in the air.
I breathed in.
"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!"
My father burst from my closet. "I told you I'd thump ya if I ever caught you hittin' that yeet, nibba," he ejaculated. Then, he thumped me.
I haven't hit that yeet since.
Until today. This morning was my father's funeral. At the procession, my brother asked me to say a few words. I told him I only needed one.
With confidence, I approached the podium. I gazed out upon the gathering of sad faces. I cleared my throat and leaned into the microphone.
"Yeet," I spake.
Suddenly, my father leapt from his hand-crafted mahogany coffin, the gunshot wound still in his chest. He sprinted up to the podium with the energy of a man without a gunshot wound in his chest.
"Y'all hittin' that dirty fuckin' yeet at my funeral?" he ejaculated. He raised his hand to thump me.
"Not so fast, pa." I grabbed his hand. "Yaint thumpin' no mo'."
My father looked at me with eyes as open as the gunshot wound in his chest. A tear fell from his right eye, which also had a monocle. "The student becomes the teacher," he said.
"The student becomes the yeetcher," I corrected him.
This shit has been in my profiles "about" section for years shut up lmfao
- Staff
- #14
shut up
I fucking hate you all. You’re all a bunch of useless, autistic weaboo cunts. All you do all day is masturbate your fucking short dick, watch shitty Japanese cartoons and post nonsense on this stupid god damned board. What is this board even for? Have you seen the shit these retards post here? Its all post humor hipster nonsense. Why can’t you just laugh at shit normal people find funny? Why do you feel the need to be so fucking different and unique that you have to come to this stupid fucking website for your kicks? Is it because you didn’t have any friends in school? Is that it? You can’t just go on Facebook and Instagram and look at your dumb memes like everyone else, oh no, that would make you a “normie.” So instead you come here of all places, to unload your unfunny trash onto the internet and circle jerk your dumb buddies cocks off. You make me sick. Reply this post or your mother will die in her sleep tonight.
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