GWBBQ posted:

Remember when whoever the new coder was at the time posted about how lovely everything was and revealed that this was what the server logs look like?

Fleta Mcgurn posted:

lmao what the gently caress this is excellent

I want this to be our new logo somehow.

Son of Rodney posted:

I keep thinking of HAMPRINCE it's so funny

Zil posted:

Was that someones username at one point or just a random variable in the code?

Tree Bucket posted:

I'm sure I remember a user called constant hamprince.

Tree Bucket posted:

I'm sure I remember a user called constant hamprince.

Hodgepodge posted:

faora-ul: for every human you save, we will kill a million more!

John Wick of Dogs posted:

Kal El: By that logic, for every human I kill, you will save 1 million humans!
Faora: That's not how this-
(Superman starts indiscriminately killing people)
Faora: ...
Zod: What's happening down there?
Faora: God drat it! We have to save... 15 billion humans now, if this Smallville population sign was accurate

Hodgepodge posted:

e: i remember several phases of Hamprince, including offhand, Constant Hamprince and Fallen Hamprince.

frankenfreak posted:

You forgot the most important: "gently caress off Hamprince"

Maximum Sexy Pigeon posted:

Turns out "Get Brexit Done" has some eerily befitting anagrams:


- Bodgier Extent
- Bigot Extender
- Exigent Debtor
- Being Extorted

Hodgepodge posted:

wasn't that the "Constant" part?

flavor.flv posted:

I will not praise any language that uses gendered nouns. That bridge is a girl, the direction north is a boy, gently caress off

Hihohe posted:

https://i.imgur.com/G9FnSKU.mp4

minato posted:

oh god I hope that's not flour. It turns to hard sludge with moisture, how the hell would you clean that out of your eyes.

Brawnfire posted:

I've gotten flour in my eyes. I roux that day

Buttchocks posted:

Kamen Riders of Pern

Buttchocks posted:

Susan G. Komen Rider

Heath posted:

constant HAMPRINCE is user name material

Outrail posted:

I know absolutely nothing about code and even to me, that seems odd.

PHIZ KALIFA posted:

BYOB thread "unimpressive kamen riders."

Biplane posted:

I am concerned that i find "the time is x and you are gay" as funny as I do.

Jose posted:

https://twitter.com/thedailybeast/status/1444044502700859394?s=20

500excf type r posted:

160th is the unit that flew pave lows 20ft off the desert floor under Saddam's radar in the gulf war for hours on end

They're tremendously talented rotary wing pilots, not hand to hand fighters

The Voice of Labor posted:

looks like they studied the wrong blade

shame on an IGA posted:

Earthling posted:

Enough already, it has become one of the most annoying and extremely pathetic 'memes' to ever hit these forums. Everybody loving does it, all the loving time. I can't stand it.

Here are a few examples, just to back up my point and to show you that this is NOT some kind of vague, general complaint spawned by one or two incidents. Also, the google searches are provided so you can see for yourself (because there are just too many for me to format).

I will link to the thread for context, and the offending post, so that nobody can say I'm calling out people who were just making examples.

September:
1.Thread | Post

2. Thread | Post

3. Thread | Post

4. Thread | Post



August:
1. Thread | Post

2. Thread | Post

3. Thread | Post

Threads that I could not access:
http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=2549422&userid=75932


RickRoll videocodes (links to a google):
oHg5SJYRHA0
eBGIQ7ZuuiU

It should just be made bannable, because I see that loving video way too many times. I hate the song, and I hate the few milliseconds of pop I hear everytime I'm too slow to close the link.

No more RickRoll. Ever. Not even ironically.

Earthling posted:

Sigh, I just don't understand why it's accepted. You have no idea how angry it makes me when I click a link and get RickRoll'd. Especially when it's something really believable and interesting. I click the link and then--BAM! A loving RickRoll.

I thought we hated 4chan and their poo poo. Sometimes I get so angry when they prank me, I just want to punch something and I tremble with rage. Then I close the link and sigh, but I feel so empty. My eyes are watering (not about to cry, it's just how I am), and my hands are shaking with sorrow and disappointment as I type this.

Look, I know you guys like to say "So what? It's the internet!" But you have to understand that real people sit behind computers with real feelings. Trolling isn't a game.

(USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST)

EorayMel posted:

I don't have any funny military posts outside of the GIP goldmined idiots thread, but what I DO have is a gassed thread from 2007 about someone complaining in QCS that rickrolling should be bannable.

Who then got banned shortly thereafter, obviously.

Kitfox88 posted:

reminds me of the f35 posts about one disintegrating over canada and the other about a marine responding for air support, anyone have those?

Kavak posted:

I'll give it a shot:

"Delta One, be advised we're sending in three f-35s for close air support. ETA, twelve minutes."

The knot in Warrant Officer Brown's stomach tightened. The Ford Pinto of the skies was coming to their rescue. They were dead men.

Delta Platoon had formed a perimeter in the town square, winning the hearts and minds of half the Taliban in the province. A routine smash-and-grab for Al-Qaeda's No.2 in Afghanistan du jour had gone wrong when their Black Hawks were shot out from under them. The insurgents had Block 2 Stinger missiles, courtesy of Uncle Sam and the Syrians. The Allies were sending what reinforcements it could, but were held up by IEDs and roadside ambushes. Attempts to send in helicopters were met with the shriek of MANPADS. It was clear Delta wasn't going anywhere unless those Stingers were taken out.

Brown's men had sighted the Taliban with their MANPADS on the roof of a nearby house. "This is Red One, Bombs Away!" crackled Brown's radio. He could hear Danger Zone in the background. He peeked out of cover and scanned the horizon amidst the whizzing bullets and explosions. Where the hell was Red One? An interminable minute passed as the Taliban with their missiles fled into a nearby shop. Moments later an explosion demolished the now-empty building.

"Delta One, this is Red One, executing turn manoeuvre, back in five minutes."

"Red squadron, this is Delta One! Priority targets have moved southeast into a shop."

"Delta One, Red Two here, please give a description of the shop."

"Red Two, It's a brown square building... green sign... it's a bakery!"

"Delta One, how the gently caress am I supposed to find a bakery at thirty thousand feet?!"

Close air support, my rear end, thought Brown. "Look, just bomb the drat intersection, will you?"

A minute later another dull thud and a puff of smoke erupted near the shop.

"Delta One, please confirm target hit."

"Negative, you bombed a school. Full of Canadians."

"YEEE-HAH! Secondary objectives achieved! Returning to base for re-arming, re-fuelling and 2 weeks of maintenance."

A mortar round landed nearby and sent several of his men reeling. Warrant Officer Brown had enough. He screamed into his mike.

"Red Three, listen the gently caress up, you worthless shitheel! You're our last hope here! We are taking CASUALTIES! You NEED to get in closer and KILL these fuckers!"

"OOHRAH OOHRAH OOHRAH 10-4 SEMPER FI THESE COLORS DON'T RUN!"

Oh God. Oh God! I just assumed they were--! I didn't know!

"Negative, negative! Stand down, Marine! Disengage! Remember your training, padawan!" The panic in his voice set his men even farther on edge.

"OOHRAH OOHRAH LEMME SEE YOUR WAR FACE REMEMBER GUADALCANAL gently caress YOU YOU HADJI MOTHERFUCKERS!!"

His commanders tried to talk him down, but it was too late. He was now the few and the proud, fighting the fire golems in his mind. His programming activated, Red Three started down towards the biggest battle he could find - the square Delta Platoon was defending. The Taliban with the missiles held back; this wasn't the first Marine pilot they'd encountered.

"EVERYBODY DOWN! INCOMING MARINE!" shouted Brown. The men that weren't frozen in place dived for the ground with whispered prayers on their lips. They looked up frightfully to see the grim spectre of death bearing down on them, the red veins in his eyes, the KA-BAR in his teeth, the rifle firing wildly from the plane's gunport.

"THIS IS FOR SOAP OOHRAH OOHRAH YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH WE ARE STILL IN THE DESERT" The F-35B slowed and activated its vertical flight system. The wash from the turbine and engine was an encompassing, scorching maelstrom that swept away all the crumbling buildings and unlucky people in its path. It was the finger of God, if God was a psychopathic fuckwit.

Before this grunt-nado there was no escape. The fruits of corporate decadence, military blood-lust and imperial hubris were about to be given to Delta Platoon in their full measure. "Thanks, Obama" muttered Warrant Officer Brown. His world filled with fire and debris, and then he knew no more.

Malachite_Dragon posted:

While we're on that one, have another one about the F-35, and another of my favorites-

Major Laurier had picked the wrong day to change meth dealers.

The sharp pounding in his head had started just as the scramble alert came on. A Russian Tupolev Tu-95 bomber had blatantly violated Canada's northern sovereignity and was headed for the strategic city of Yellowknife. It was up to his squadron, No. 420 Harper's Harriers to show those Slav bastards what-for with their state-of-the-art C-35 war machines... and peacefully escort them out of Canada's airspace.

Now, he was alone. Captain Fraiser's C-35 had flown through a cloud and the moisture had torn its skin from its fuselage. The rookie, Lieutenant Dorian, had attempted a gentle banked turn and the strain on his engine was too great. His plane exploded in a hail of fire, cheap steel and packing peanuts. He didn't even have time to scream. loving hotshot, thought the Major.

The Tupolev was zooming southeast at a blistering Mach 0.3 but he was slowly closing in on his prey. He had already dropped his external fuel tanks, all four of his bullets and his missile to stay airborne, and the airframe was shuddering like his Chevy Cavalier on the Trans-Canada Highway. The radar app had crashed an hour ago and OnStar was useless. No, I don't want to find a loving gas station, I'm trying to intercept a warplane! Nonetheless, he had followed the contrails left by the bomber in the northern sky. He knew he was close. And then there! On the edge of his horizon, a vast twenty miles away, were the Russians. He clenched his jaw and punched up the afterburners. The plane kicked and lurched like a mechanical bull with half the gears broken. He set course to ram his plane into the hulking turboprop. I knew I wasn't coming back from this mission, he thought. I'm a C-35 pilot. We don't come back. But at least I'll take these assholes with me. His squadron's motto, gently caress EVERYONE AND PISS ON THEIR ASHES, rang in his ears as his HUD flashed a 404 error.

Meanwhile, on the Russian plane...

The Major was five miles from the bomber when he heard a new and unfamiliar bang. He tried in vain to look behind him, but from the corner of his eye, he could see a great crack forming on his left wing. He knew at once what it meant. The epoxy that kept the plane together was never meant for such extreme temperatures. His plane was literally coming apart at the seams. How he wished he was in an Avro Arrow now. With a sickening CRRRACK the wing tore itself free from the plane and the C-35 went into a death spin. The Tupolev continued on, oblivious.

Amidst the alarms, klaxons and spontaneous fire, Frasier bit his lip and thought of Maverick. Then suddenly he remembered his training. One of the Powerpoint slides had mentioned that the ejection seat was NOT made by Lockheed, but by a British company! Hope sprung in his breast; perhaps he might survive this ordeal, and achieve his dream of becoming a cyberathelete! In desperation he lunged at the ejector handle. The seat roared upward into the void and while the canopy didn't deploy, it didn't matter; the cheap glass was shattered easily by his hundred thousand dollar helmet.

The Major breathed a sigh of relief as the chute deployed and slowed his descent. He took one last glance at his plane, which plummeted like a meteor into the ground and exploded. It was a bittersweet sight. At the very least, he thought, he had saved half a billion dollars from the clutches of the poor, the needy, the nonwhite and Quebec. The thought made him smile.

The ejector seat landed with a soft thud on a river bank, narrowly missing some pine trees. He looked around at the bright sky, the green grass and river teeming with fish. This unfamiliar hellscape sent chills of fear down his spine. If I liked the outdoors, he thought, I would've joined in the army.

Thus began Major Laurier's desperate bid for survival in the harsh subarctic summer, where temperatures could drop to nearly below freezing. In the distance, a beaver roared.

Paladinus posted:

You forgot to link this gem.

Blue Footed Booby posted:

I don't think I've seen a video before with a billion views. I'm not sure what it says about humanity but I'm pretty sure it says something.

Scarodactyl posted:

He released a new single while I was in high school and it was pretty good but didn't get much attention. Sad. He's probably even done something since then.