rolllll
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You are currently reading a thread in /o/ - Auto
You are currently reading a thread in /o/ - Auto
rolllll
>>14756402
There he is. There he goes again. Look, everyone! He posted it once again! Isn’t he just the funniest guy around?! Oh my God.
I can almost see your pathetic overweight frame glowing in the dark, lit by your computer screen which is the only source of light in your room, giggling like a like girl as you once again type your little Banana thread up and fill in the captcha. Or maybe you don’t even fill in the captcha. Maybe you’re such a disgusting NEET that you actually paid for a 4chan pass, so you just choose the picture. Oh, and we all know the picture. The “epic” Banana guy, isn’t it? I imagine you little shit laughing so hard as you click it that you drop your Doritos on the floor, but it’s ok, your mother will clean it up in the morning. Oh, that’s right. Did I fail to mention? You live with your mother. You are a fat fucking fuckup, she’s probably so sick of you already. So sick of having to do everything for you all goddamn day, every day, for a grown man who spends all his time on 4chan posting about a fucking banana. Just imagine this. She had you, and then she thought you were gonna be a scientist or an astronaut or something grand, and then you became a NEET. A pathetic Bananafag NEET. She probably cries herself to sleep everyday thinking about how bad it is and how she wishes she could just disappear. She can’t even try to talk with you because all you say is “I REALLY REALLY LIKE THIS PICTURE.” You’ve become a parody of your own self. And that’s all you are. A sad little man laughing in the dark by himself as he prepares to indulge in the same old dance that he’s done a million times now. And that’s all you’ll ever be.
>>14756434
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.
Shitboxes are loved by /o/. We like to say they have character. We beat them to hell, and they somehow still go another 50k miles. When brand new with 4 miles on the odometer, we smugly donned these vehicles "econoboxes". But they matured, such as a fine wine does. They surived to 300k miles with minimal repairs. Just like a soldier earns the Purple Heart, our "econoboxes" earned their reputation as the "shitbox". There are a few cars that will always be known as great little shitboxes: the Toyota Corolla, our beloved Twingo, and America's frontrunner, The Geo Metro.
The Geo Metro was conceived much the same way I was: during a 4am cocaine fueled grope session in the back seat of an AMC Gremlin.
The year was 1987. A few Detroit executives who were down on their luck decided that we need a car designed for real human beans. A car that would love its 8th owner more than its original buyer. A car that had seen 3 oil changes its first 100k miles, but now is pampered by synthetic blend every 2,999 miles. Sunroof? Fuck that! 4 cylinders? Nope! We want 4 wheels, 3 cylinders, 2 doors, and one goddamn good car.
Thus the 1989 Geo Metro was born. It reigned supreme for decades, much like a dictator in Asia. Jay Leno owns 7 Geo Metros in case you forgot. The Geo Metro is the only car to win at Monza, Laguna Seca, Silverstone, and Talladega. Ford and Chrysler appealed to the US government in 1990, saying that production of the Geo Metro created an unfair advantage for GM. Unfortunately for Ford and Chrysler, 98% of the members of Congress drove Geo Metros and loved them to death. The Geo Metro placed 4th in the 1992 Presidential election behind Ross Perot.
Some say the Chevrolet Aveo was the successor to the Geo Metro, but I refuse to believe. Nothing can ever succed over the Geo Metro when it comes to its main purpose: being a spectacular shitbox.
>>14756442
I don’t give a fuck who you are or where you live. You can count on me to be there to bring your fucking life to a hellish end. I’ll put you in so much fucking pain that it’ll make Jesus being nailed to a cross in the desert look like a fucking back massage on a tropical island. I don’t give a fuck how many reps you have or how tough you are IRL, how well you can fight, or how many fucking guns you own to protect yourself. I’ll fucking show up at your house when you aren’t home. I’ll turn all the lights on in your house, leave all the water running, open your fridge door and not close it, and turn your gas stove burners on and let them waste gas. You’re going to start stressing the fuck out, your blood pressure will triple, and you’ll have a fucking heart attack. You’ll go to the hospital for a heart operation, and the last thing you’ll see when you’re being put under in the operating room is me hovering above you, dressed like a doctor. When you wake up after being operated on, wondering what ticking time bomb is in your chest waiting to go off. You’ll recover fully from your heart surgery. And when you walk out the front door of the hospital to go home I’ll run you over with my fucking car out of no where and kill you. I just want you to know how easily I could fucking destroy your pathetic excuse of a life, but how I’d rather go to a great fuckng length to make sure your last remaining days are spent in a living, breathing fucking hell. It’s too late to save yourself, but don’t bother committing suicide either… I’ll fucking resuscitate you and kill you again myself you bitch-faced phaggot. Welcome to hell, population: you
I have never actually won a single one of these threads. Everytime I see that comically anthropomorphized banana holding his peel in a suggestive manner, likening the peel to clothes and his peel-less nature to human nudity, I bust up laughing. This happens every time, no matter where I am, be it the house or the bus or in class. Sometimes I laugh just thinking about it. This is a dark memory but a few months back I had just gotten done with a fit of laughter caused by one of these hilarious threads. Suddenly my mom walks in and she’s crying. I attempted to suppress the growing urge to laugh but it was getting more difficult. Face red, tears running down her aging face, mom grabs my shoulders and says “Your father’s dead.”
It was at that moment that I couldn’t hold back anymore. I burst into a banana-induced fit of laughter, but the horrible news drew tears to my eyes. I laughed while I cried, tears streaming down my wide open grin, memories of daddy resurfacing and being melded and combined with the naked banana.
I lost two things that night..
>>14756489
Subaru Leone
Like many a bastard lovechild of the early 70s, many were skeptical of the Subaru Leone at first, but this lion would go on to do incredible things. It was a mutt that was born of the lesbian ski instructor mother, Subaru, and the skilled tradesman, Nissan, that brought us Z cars and mini trucks.
Our little Leone was birthed in Japan of the finest Nippon steels. While only in its infancy, it won 4 gold medals, 2 silver medals, and a bronze in numerous skiing events at the 1972 Winter Olympics in Sapporo. Everybody knew this cub would go on to do great things. After the olympics, the Leone spent it's early years touring the western world, attempting to reverse the predjudices still held by many since the Second World War.
Early in its life, the Leone took after its father, Nissan, in many ways. Especially aesthetically. But by the early 1980s, a decade of maternal influences had begun to show, and the Leone was resembling a true Subaru. In the spring of 1981, the Leone summited the Matterhorn, sporting a 4-door wagon trim. Later that year, the turbocharged version took a trip to the US and conquered every 14er in the Rockies.
Popular folklore claims that sometime between 1982 and 1984, a vehicle called the Subaru Brat reached the peak of Mt. Everest and K2 in the same day. The Brat had only planned to traverse Everest that morning, but after hearing of a stranded group of climbers on the K2, it put that boxer engine and Subaru 4wd to use. After finding the 2 lost climbers, ensuring they were comfortable, the Brat continued the last few kilometers to the summit before returning safely to base camp.
By the Late 80s, the Leone began to relax and reflect. It went on a speaking tour of major European cities and universities in support of its autobiography, only taking small breaks to compete (win) in rally events, just to prove to everybody that it is far from anything that could be considered a "Mall-Crawler".
WHAT THE FUCK GET OFF THE BOARD
>>14756592
Where is your copy pasta?
>>14756402
ROLLIN
>>14756434
Woah there Tommy, its okay man, just cool it bud.
Cancer
