HOLY MOTHER FUCKNG SHT, ARE THOSE THE NUMBERS 6 AND 7?!?!?!😱😳😱😳😳😱⁉️😱⁉️‼️😱😳😱⁉️😱😳😱😳⁉️😱😳😱⁉️😱‼️😱😳😱6️⃣7️⃣6️⃣7️⃣6️⃣7️⃣6️⃣7️⃣ ATTENTION, 6️⃣7️⃣ SPOTTED, ATTENTION 67 SPOTTED, THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL DEPLOY 6️⃣7️⃣ PROTOCOL /INITIATING 67 MODE... %67data... &programs x67&... 6767676767676️⃣7️⃣6️⃣7️⃣6️⃣7️⃣... I WILL SING THE 6️⃣ 7️⃣ SONG AND YOU WILL SING ALONG, WE WILL SING THE 6️⃣ 7️⃣ SONG AND YOU WILL SING ALONG, YOU WILL SING THE 6️⃣ 7️⃣ SONG AND WE WILL SING ALONG 6️⃣🤚😁✋️7️⃣‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️
I literally cannot do this anymore. I am at my FUCKING limit. 67. Six. Seven. It started as a joke. Just a funny number. A funny fucking number that a kid did in that damn video. But it kept popping up in my fucking reels. What the fuck is going on? I ask myself. At first, I thought it was funny. But I kept seeing it. Not by the major but it was JUST SIX SEVEN AFTER SIX FUCKING SEVENS. I kept blocking those accounts. Nothing worked. I tried a new account alltogether. It still appeared. I even made a newer account with a VPN. NOTHING. FUCKING. WORKS.
"SIX SEVENN!" Haha. Funny. Right? WRONG. This number has systematically dismantled every single aspect of my already pathetic life.
I'm a father of two kids. They're the ones who's always stuck to their screens 26/7. I tried asking them of how to stop it or at the very least explain what it means. I didn't get a clear answer. Instead, they mimic that blonde fucker's hand movements and kept saying "SIX SEVEN" in the most obnoxious tone possible. I felt like crying.
I lost my six-figure job last week. I tried to ignore this whole six seven bullshit and just go to my job. We were in the middle of the most important meeting in the company's history. The CFO pulls up the quarterly projections. The presentation hits a page that showed a pie chart. I look at the screen. The percentage? 67% out of whatever the fucking topic was. I didn't place it there. I swear I didn't. I swear I remember deliberately putting it as 66% just to prevent this exact scenario.
I didn't mean to do it. It was a reflex. I swear. I slammed my hand on the mahogany table and screamed "SIX SEVENNN" at the top of my lungs. I started laughing hysterically, pointing at the screen yelling "SIX SEVEN! SIX SEVEN! SIX SEVEN" at the board of directors. Security escorted me out while I was still trying to explain the meme to those old wrinkly fuckers.
My career is utterly over. I can't even get hired at a cashier job because I'm fucking blacklisted from the local job market. I have ruined my reputation and I cannot fix it no matter how much I beg for forgiveness.
But it didn't stop there. My wife left me yesterday. We were driving to see her parents. I looked at the dashboard. The temperature outside? 67 degrees. I started sweating. I looked at the speedometer. 67 mph. I started hyperventilating. I couldn't help myself. I involuntarily moved my hands up and down while saying six seven. I pulled the car over on the highway and refused to drive until the temperature dropped to 66 or rose to 68. She told me I need professional help. She took the ring back. I lost the divorce. I lost the kids. I lost all of my money. I'm dirt poor.
I see it everywhere now. My phone battery? 67%. The change in my pocket? 67 cents. The page number in my book? 67. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I close my eyes and I just see the number floating in the void. It haunts me. It mocks me. I am a shell of a man, destroyed by a double-digit integer. Is this what god does to his strongest soldier? I can't fucking take it.
SIX SEVENNNN SIX. FUCKING. SEVEN. 67 67 67 67 67 GOD FUCKING DAMN IT SIX SEVEN SIX SEVEN SEX SEVEN SIX SEVEN SIX SEVENNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN SIX SEVENNNN
From r/Halflife, its the Todd Howard holding TES VI hostage story but changed to Gabe Newell holding Half Life 3 hostage unless players buy more CS2 lootboxes.
Flying from DC to LA and Gabe was flying the same flight. I got to sit near him and told him I was a huge fan of his, especially of Half-Life. That's when he did something I would have never believed.
He pulled out his laptop and showed me the official trailer for Half-Life 3. He then asked me how many CS2 crate keys I have purchased, and I told him "Only 20, Gabe. Only 20.". That's when he did it. Gabe Newell deleted the trailer for HL3 and emptied the trash. "This was the only copy, the one I was to present at the Game Awards", he said. "Next time, do better."
He then informed me that if the new TF2 Smissmass crate doesn't sell a million keys within 48 hours they will be deleting assets to HL3, further delaying the project purposefully. They are taking it hostage and demanding a ransom.
Todd Howard was on my flight to LA
By u/xCosmicChaosx, its a shitpost story on how Todd Howard is holding TES VI hostage unless players buy more versions of Skyrim released by Bethesda.
Flying from DC to LA and Todd was flying the same flight. I got to sit near him and told him I was a huge fan of his, especially of TES. That's when he did something I would have never believed.
He pulled out his laptop and showed me the official trailer for TES: VI. He then asked me how many copies of Skyrim I have purchased, and I told him "Only 3, Todd. Only 3.". That's when he did it. Todd Howard deleted the trailer for TES VI and emptied the trash. "This was the only copy, the one I was to present at the Game Awards", he said. "Next time, do better."
He then informed me that if the new Switch 2 port of Skyrim doesn't sell a million copies within 48 hours they will be deleting assets to TES VI, further delaying the project purposefully. They are taking it hostage and demanding a ransom.
You don’t understand. No, really, you don’t. You think I like Agnes Tachyon because she’s “funny” or “quirky”? Pathetic. You think I enjoy her because she’s an eccentric scientist horse girl who talks to herself about data points and experiments? Laughable. Agnes Tachyon isn’t a character; she’s a metaphysical event. She is the unrestrained manifestation of scientific mania, the divine spark of human curiosity wearing a lab coat that’s probably been stained with twenty-seven unclassified substances. Every time she shouts “EXPERIMENT SUCCESS!” my neurons light up like a supernova on a caffeine IV drip.
She’s not just smart ;she’s insanity weaponized into progress. She’s the embodiment of the phrase “What if the collective will to progress was a scientist and also a complete lunatic?” The way she runs, no, charges across the turf like she’s chasing the Higgs boson itself; it’s not racing. It’s a collision of intellect and instinct, a thesis defended at terminal velocity. The other UmaMusume are running for glory; Tachyon is running for truth.
And the voice. My God, the voice. Every line she delivers sounds like she’s on the verge of discovering time travel through sheer force of will. It’s manic, it’s ecstatic, it’s like she’s constantly on the edge of a scientific breakthrough or a total mental collapse; and the beauty is, she doesn’t care which. Her laugh isn’t just laughter. It’s the sound of the universe briefly losing track of its constants because Tachyon decided to disprove one.
Her interactions? Don’t even get me started. Watching her torment poor Manhattan Cafe with “experimental coffee blends” that may or may not cause temporary enlightenment is like witnessing alchemy between entropy and elegance. Tachyon is chaos incarnate, and Cafe is the quiet void that somehow keeps her grounded. Together, they’re the yin and yang of existential academia; the scientist and her haunting muse. Every time Tachyon invades Cafe’s peaceful bubble with a new “hypothesis,” I can feel the cosmos tremble.
I tried to live a normal life once. I really did. But every time I hear the word “experiment,” I flinch. My YouTube recommendations are just scientific documentaries, espresso machine tutorials, and Tachyon race replays in 0.25x speed so I can analyze every micro-expression. I can’t even boil water anymore without screaming “CONTROL THE VARIABLES!” My room looks like a fusion of a mad scientist’s den and a racing memorabilia shrine — test tubes filled with coffee, sticky notes with illegible equations, and at least three framed screenshots of Tachyon grinning like she’s about to break causality.
She is ambition unchained. She is intellect without fear. She is Agnes Tachyon; the scientist who didn’t just chase knowledge, she became it. And I? I’m just her willing test subject. Inject the data. Brew the hypothesis. Collapse the waveform. If she told me to drink liquid entropy for “research purposes,” I’d already have the glass halfway to my lips.
So next time someone calls her “just another energetic Uma,” I want you to remember this: Agnes Tachyon doesn’t run races. She runs the laws of physics. Every victory is an experiment completed, every loss a necessary variable. She is chaos, caffeine, and cognition distilled into one trembling, divine form. And I am hopelessly, irrevocably, and scientifically in love with her. I am her eternal Guinea Pig.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to test a hypothesis about how many Agnes Tachyon acrylic stands a single human desk can structurally support before collapsing into a singularity. For science, and my undying love.
i duo queue with my ex every couple months
we don't talk about it. it just happens.
2am. both online. she sends the invite. or i do. neither of us acknowledges who sent it first.
the discord call is 90% silence. no "how have you been." no "seeing anyone?" just pings and callouts.
"flash down."
"jungler bot."
"nice."
that's the whole conversation.
here's the thing though.
our 2v2 is still nasty.
she knows when i'm going in before i ping it.
i know her cooldowns better than the last 6 supports i've played with.
we don't communicate because we don't need to.
400 games of muscle memory doesn't give a fuck about relationship status.
we'll go 7-2 together. maybe 8-1 on a good night.
then it's "gg" and we're offline for another 2 months.
no follow up. no "we should do this more often." nothing.
because we both know what this is.
it's not friendship.
it's not rekindling.
it's not even nostalgia.
it's that neither of us has found better synergy.
and that's the uncomfortable truth about duo queue.
you can break up with someone and still be stuck with them competitively.
you can hate someone's guts and still combo perfectly in a teamfight.
you can move on emotionally and still be hardstuck trying to replace what you had in game.
some people have exes they still fuck.
i have an ex i still duo with.
honestly not sure which is worse.
study the saskio way
He's so fat, man like he's just so fucking obese. Like everything he does just gives strong obesity vibes. Just obesity radiation surrounding him. Super strength strong unmatched overweight aura. like just posting about Ak is enough to just weigh my phone down. his fat globby belly achieves levels of masculine overweight aura humanity has never seen before. strong glutton filled radiation around this fat fucking demon. how does any shirt ever manage to fit him is a mystery i will not decipher given a googol number of years. so fucking fat. that fat fucking stomach is enough to give me a workout while holding this phone. my armpits get all sweaty n shit when i try to hold my phone with a mere image of him. thats how fat he is man. hes a magician and that fat fucking stomach of his has to be a magic trick. piece of work. that fat fucking creature. so fucking obese.
From a comment in a post on r/mapporncirclejerk that responded countries banning Heinz Baked Beans.
heinz baked beans are literally the best thing ever and i will die on this hill. the sauce is perfect, the beans are soft but not mushy, and it just works with EVERYTHING. toast, eggs, sausages, chips, whatever you throw at it, it fits. it’s cheap, it’s filling, it’s reliable. and the idea that some country would BAN them????? insane. absolutely insane!!!! like how do you even justify that??? it’s BEANS. it’s not dangerous, it’s not offensive, it’s not some weird thing, it’s beans in tomato sauce. people live off this stuff, students, workers, families, everyone. you take that away and you’re basically saying “we don’t care about normal people.” don’t care if you think i’m exaggerating, i’m not. you don’t realize how much they matter until someone says “oh they’re banned here” and then suddenly it feels like a crime. they’re part of daily life, they’re survival food. banning them is dumb, pointless, and honestly feels like an attack on the people. i’ll say it again because it needs to be said. HEINZ BEANS ARE LIFE!!!! they’re not fancy, they’re not trying to be anything else, they’re just beans in sauce and somehow it’s perfect. banning them is like banning bread or banning water, it makes no sense.and yeah i’m repeating myself but that’s the point. because it’s that important. beans on toast at 2am when you’re broke, beans with breakfast when you’re tired, beans when you just need something quick. it’s always there. always the same. always good. banning heinz baked beans is dumb and evil
