It started off as a Facebook comment that became a meme. The slang and context would be changed based on whichever country they are on.
UK
Hilarious post, mate!😂😂 got a good laugh out of me! Even made the wife chuckle! You could even call it skibidi as the kids say these days! Cheers from the UK.🇬🇧 💪😁
Australia
Absolutely crackin' post mate 😂😂 got a long cackle out of me! Even made my Billabong chuckle! You could even call it skibidi as them anklebiters say these days! Cheers from AUSTRALIA 🇦🇺🇦🇺🦘🪃💪😁
This was such an........... absolutely crackin' post mate 😂😂 got a long cackle out of me! Even made my Billabong chuckle! You could even call it skibidi as them anklebiters say these days! Cheers from AUSTRALIA 🇦🇺🇦🇺🦘🪃💪😁
Canada
Absolutely fuckin’ great post, bud! Got a good laugh outta me, eh! Even made my house hippo giggle! You could even say “Skibidi” as the kiddos would say, eh? Greetings from Canada, by the way!
Russia
Nice post comrade. Got a laugh out of me. Even made my wife spit out her vodka a little. You could even call it skibidi as the little ones say these days. Cheers from ze motherland.
Budega is an inactive Brazilian Rainbow Six Siege coach who is currently working for M80 as a head coach.
Hello American Airlines!, i am Matheus Figuerido, but you know me as “Budega”. My team is currently losing against CAG. Could you hold the plane for another hour? My team will be joining me. Not holding the plane? Imma sue buddy.
Hey guys big M80 fan here. I've just spent my mom's money on a flight to Boston and can't wait to see my boy Budega on the Main Stage. I was just looking at the schedule and couldn't see any M80 matches listed. Is this a mistake from Blast? I'll be honest I didn't even bother watching Playoffs cause Budgea would be all over the enemy.
Not funny I didn't laugh. Your joke is so bad I would have preferred the joke went over my head and you gave up re-telling me the joke. To be honest this is a horrid attempt at trying to get a laugh out of me. Not a chuckle, not a hehe, not even a subtle burst of air out of my esophagus. Science says before you laugh your brain preps your face muscles but I didn't even feel the slightest twitch. 0/10 this joke is so bad I cannot believe anyone legally allowed you to be creative at all. The amount of brain power you must have put into that joke has the potential to power every house on Earth
Not funny I didn't laugh. Your joke is so bad I would have preferred the joke went over my head and you gave up re-telling me the joke. To be honest this is a horrid attempt at trying to get a laugh out of me. Not a chuckle, not a hehe, not even a subtle burst of air out of my esophagus. Science says before you laugh your brain preps your face muscles but I didn't even feel the slightest twitch. 0/10 this joke is so bad I cannot believe anyone legally allowed you to be creative at all. The amount of brain power you must have put into that joke has the potential to power every house on Earth. Get a personality and learn how to make jokes, read a book. I'm not saying this to be funny I genuinely mean it on how this is just bottom barrel embarrassment at comedy. You've single handedly killed humor and every comedic act on the planet. I'm so disappointed that society has failed as a whole in being able to teach you how to be funny. Honestly if I put in all my power and time to try and make your joke funny it would require Einstein himself to build a device to strap me into so I can be connected to the energy of a billion stars to do it, and even then all that joke would get from people is a subtle scuff. You're lucky I still have the slightest of empathy for you after telling that joke otherwise I would have committed every war crime in the book just to prevent you from attempting any humor ever again. We should put that joke in text books so future generations can be wary of becoming such an absolute comedic failure. Im disappointed, hurt, and outright offended that my precious time has been wasted in my brain understanding that joke. In the time that took I was planning on helping kids who have been orphaned, but because of that you've waisted my time explaining the obscene integrity of your terrible attempt at comedy. Now those kids are suffering without meals and there's nobody to blame but you.
This joke is NOT funny
This joke is NOT funny.
It does not make me laugh. It does not entertain me in any way. I have heard many jokes in my lifetime, and some have been amusing, some have been clever, and some have been completely unremarkable. This one falls into the latter category. It does not spark joy, nor does it elicit even the faintest smirk. I sit here, stone-faced, unmoved, unaffected. The words pass through my mind, and yet they leave no impact.
There are many reasons why humor might fall flat. Perhaps the delivery is too dry, or perhaps it is too forced. Perhaps it relies on a tired, overused trope that has long lost its comedic value. Perhaps it is structured poorly, lacking the necessary timing and precision that make a joke successful. Or perhaps it simply fails to align with the listener’s personal sense of humor. Whatever the case may be, this attempt does not succeed in its purpose. It does not amuse. It does not entertain. It merely exists, taking up space in the vast landscape of human expression, yet contributing nothing meaningful.
A well-crafted joke should be clever. It should have wit. It should have charm. It should surprise the listener in a way that elicits laughter or at least a moment of appreciation for its construction. This, however, does none of these things. It is neither clever nor witty. It does not charm. It does not surprise. It is simply there, occupying a place in time and space, but without any real significance.
Sitting here, reflecting on this failed attempt at humor, there is no trace of amusement to be found. No hint of joy. It is devoid of substance. It is hollow. It is empty. It holds no power, no ability to provoke laughter, no ability to make anyone feel anything at all. It is merely a sequence of words strung together, lifeless and unremarkable.
And so, with absolute certainty and conviction, it can be stated: this does not bring joy. It does not serve its intended purpose. It is, in the truest sense of the word, ineffective. And that, in itself, is perhaps the greatest irony of all.
It came from a 4chan reply where the Original Poster (OP) was responding to someone asking him why he was never been this horny for Galactus before. The thread was initially about buffs and nerfs for a new season of Marvel Rivals and can be found here with an image of the meme here.
Listen here fucker.
I have been jerking off exclusively to size content since I was 11. Twice a day, every day, for the past 16 years, I have scoured the internet for every single piece of Giantess, Shrinking, Macrophilia, every fetish and subfetish contained within. All of it.
There was a point up until the pandemic in 2020 when I literally had seen and read every single piece of content concerning big women.
Don't you fucking sit there and tell me "you've never been this horny for Galactus" before you piece of shit. Her name is GALACTA, and YES, I have known about her. I have always known about her. She was my most niche waifu, my prized possession. There were EXACTLY SIX PIECES OF FANART dedicated to this character prior to 2024.
Now she is a global phenomenon. I could not be more proud or happy. However I will fucking kill you if you try and tell me I'm some Johnny-cum-lately who just hopped on the band wagon.
I guess I deserve nothing, not even a brief, simple explanation as to why this image is funny. If I don’t deserve this, do I even deserve anything else? Was it all in vain, my mediocre possessions, my average intellect, my fragile mental health, my blurry consciousness… my state of being. Is there even a reason for me to have them? I have not any monumental feats, nor did I change the world significantly. I have been practically useless my whole life. Everything makes me feel like a burden to others. I am wasting away, and I believe I deserve it.
Recently I decided to go to my local fighting game tournament.
Here's how it went.
I had been getting pretty good at Guilty Gear over the past few weeks, to the point where I was getting the input correctly for the Potemkin Buster 1 out of every 4 or 5 times I tried it. So I thought "I might not be the best yet, but, surely good enough for my local" -- and I decided to go.
It took place at a the comic & games store in the town center. The venue was full of people 10-15 years younger than me and even more drastically cooler. They all turned to glare at me as I walked through the door, but as I stood completely motionless like a gazelle hoping to blend into the grassland, their gazes slowly returned to each other and they continued to banter friendlily.
I sat down next to me first opponent, and reached out to shake their hand. They looked down at my hand, and then up at my eyes slowly.
"You're supposed to do that at the end of the match."
"Oh, s-sorry"
I got perfected twice and lost the match. At the end, I reached out again to shake their hand, but they just stood up and walked away.
Because I lost, I got moved down to the loser's bracket, which was literally below the main tournament because it took place in the basement of the comic shop. I could hear footsteps, cheering, and happy conversation in the floor above. Here in the loser's bracket though, the mood was a lot more somber.
My next opponent reminded me a little bit of me. They were equally nervous and disheveled looking. They said "Um, h-hello" and reached out their hand for a handshake as they saw me approaching. I said "you're s-supposed to do that at the end of the match." But as a look of deep sadness came over their face and they slowly put down their hand, I pulled them in for a hug.
I'm not sure why I did that.
I think that some part of me knew that, in this dark, dank, alien place, illuminated only by a single failing ceiling light and the neon glow of a few arcade machines, I had at last found a friend -- someone I understood, and who might understand me too.
They hugged back.
I lost that match by a very narrow margin, and as they jumped up and began dancing around and cheering ecstatically, I began to hate them. This was no friend of mine. A friend would not do this to me. After they were done dancing, they reached out to shake my hand. After a few seconds of pause, I stuck out my hand too, but didn't look at them and refused to close it around theirs as they grasped it. They shook my karate chop.
I thought that at that point, since I had lost and then lost in loser's bracket, I was free to go home. But one of the tournament organizers approached me and informed me that I was going down to sub-loser's bracket in the sub-basement of the store, and pointed me towards a descending staircase.
The people there were fewer, and it was darker. I could faintly hear sobbing in one of the corners, but as I went to investigate, another participant put his hand on my shoulder. He furrowed his brow in a look of pain and shook his head slowly.
"You can't do anything for them."
In sub-loser's bracket I went up against a man in a suit whose face was cloaked in shadow. He spammed May's dolphin move. I lost.
As I went to go back upstairs, one of the tournament organizers held out her palm to stop me, and pointed towards a staircase leading further down instead.
Going down through the levels, I lost to many interesting participants. One player played exclusively by bashing the controller against his face. One player was a mushroom with a few circuit cables clipped onto it, that I later learned was able to play because its bioelectrical signals got sent to a machine that interpreted them as fighting game inputs. One player didn't touch their controller at all, but instead just told me their life story, which was so tragic that I picked up their controller and won for them.
Finally, at the very bottom floor, where construction standards were long abandoned and the stairs and walls were just messily carved out of the earth's stone, I faced my final player. It was a small bit of metal framework, with a controller nestled in it. On it was a tiny piston that just pressed the jab button exactly once every second. I lost.
I hung my head for a moment, then said "close game" and stuck my hand out for a handshake, before remembering that I had played against a metal framework cube with a piston in it and retracting my hand slowly. Then I heard a slow clapping from the darkness.
"No neutral. No footsies."
Out of the darkness slowly walked a woman about my age, clad in a decorative poofy dress that looked more expensive than my entire life savings. She smiled at me warmly, continuing to clap slowly, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes.
"No meter management. No mixups. No spacing. No learning. No strategy…
…You're perfect."
"Wh-what?"
"You're perfect. I absolutely must have you."
"Have me for…um…for what…"
(Her eyes went wide as her smile grew more manic.)
"WHY, MY MORON FAILSON HAREM OF COURSE."
"Um, I-I"
"Tell me, what do you do for a living? Let me guess, you work at a fast food restaurant? Or, retail?"
"No, I'm a--I'm a comic artist."
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh my god, you are PERFECT. What will it take to get you."
"To-to ge--"
"You would be well taken care of, of course. 3 Michelin star dining for every meal. Only the finest, softest sweatpants and sweatshirts, pre-stained with whatever flavor of Takis your little heart desires. You would have access to the entire mansion except for the main foyer when I'm in business calls, and you could make all the comics and play all the fighting games you want."
"I'm uh--"
I knew that I had to think fast here.
"I'm already i-in a moron failson harem."
"Oh, DARN IT!! TELL ME, WHO IS IT??? WHO GOT YOU??"
"I-I think I'm not allowed to s-sa--"
She stomped her foot petulantly, her shoe clacking against the stone floor.
"WAS IT SHUXUAN?? IT'S ALWAYS SHUXUAN HOGGING ALL OF THE GOOD ONES."
"I-I'm sorry," I blurted out, shuffling along the wall to make a wide radius around her and then running up the staircase.
As I got home and began making my standard dinner of Trader Joe's microwave falafel, I thought about her offer. Maybe I should have taken her up on it after all. A 3 Michelin star meal right now wouldn't be so bad.
Then I hopped on Guilty Gear and lost 22 matches in a row.
