Its a response to the Loss meme that everyone keep bringing up every once in a while and an overdone meme.
Ah, Loss. The meme that refuses to die, like a zombie in a poorly pressed suit, wandering across a lawn looking for brains in the house across the street. There is a certain type of humor that ages like wine. Others, like Loss, age like milk left in the midday sun during the summer. And yet, there is an almost religious insistence on kicking this carcass of a meme to make it seem alive, as if it were some kind of transcendental joke, but that is not the reality, Loss is dead.
Let's face it — Loss was never funny. It never had comic timing, it never had an interesting construction, it never had a punchline. It is, at best, a visual curiosity. At worst (and more often), it is the perfect excuse for the pseudo-intellectual of the shitpost to feel part of an elite that “gets the joke”. But the cold hard truth is that it is not funny. It has no content. It does not have even a modicum of charm. There are four panels organized in a generic way, reproduced in a thousand lazy variations, and then someone appears with that air of wisdom from a 2009 forum and asks: “Is this Loss?” as if he had just asked a riddle from Plato.
No, my friend, this is not Loss. This is a lack of critical sense. It is the robotic repetition of an empty format, recycled to exhaustion by those who do not have a shred of creativity.
And the worst part is that the original Loss isn't even a meme. It's a sincere (and extremely misplaced) attempt to address a serious issue in a humorous webcomic. The creator wanted emotion, impact, maybe tears. What he got was an eternity of being remembered for a poorly positioned and unfunny strip, reinterpreted by people who thought that some risks could be the new Shakespeare. The result? A meme that became a joke not because of its content, but because of its inability to be meaningful in itself.
The cult of Loss is almost a sociological study on creative exhaustion. It's as if the internet, in a collective fit of forced nostalgia, decided to keep a dead joke alive out of sheer stubbornness. And each new appearance, each minimalist version, each visual adaptation using chairs, posts, bread or lines of code or even plants from a digital game is like a shovel of lime on the dignity of digital humor. The joke has already been made. It has already been understood. It has already been parodied. It has already been surpassed. And yet, there it is. Reborn in comments, in random images, in Reddit threads, with the subtlety of an elephant doing a tap dance.
You may like shitposts. I like them too. But real shitposts are subversion, they are absurd, they are surprise. Loss is the opposite of that: it is the meme of stagnation. It is the symbol of the joke that has become an obligation. And if you are still posting this in 2025 thinking you are being clever, ironic, or cult — I'm sorry to say, but you are just behind the times. And not in a vintage way. In a tiresome way.
So please, for the sake of humor, good taste and collective digital sanity: let Loss rest. Enough is enough. Bury him once and for all. Put a rose on his tombstone and move on. There's a new meme in town, a fresher laugh waiting to happen. And if you still feel the need to post Loss, maybe the real Loss is the time we waste pretending that it's still funny.