Oh, but look at Mr. Ad Block rollin' in here like he owns this place. Like he can just click all over our content and not look at one ad. Using up our menus. Searching in the advanced search. Think again, bitch! We got a timer. It's gonna count down. Then when it counts down it's gonna say, "Yo, there is STILL ad block enabled as all hell what the fuck, hombre?" and guess who is not reading our recipes. Guess who does not get to auto play a single GOD. DAMN. VIDEO.
That's right, it's motherfucking you.
You know how many Chinese scripts and crumbly ass cookies and sticky, wicky, weird motherfucking worms we got to put all over your computer? Look up at that little icon. You are missing out on like 68 of these motherfuckers a page. This shit was so god gold bar damned monetized and you come in here disruptin' the whole paradigm.
We gave you a chance to be nice about this, motherfucker. It's war now. We got annoying ass revenue to get allllll up in your shit. We can't be havin' you browsin' in our content, clickin' around our valuable ass articles and engaging our social media shit. If you don't wanna put our tracking scripts in that sweet ass, beautiful, silky motherfuckin' browser, then we got no choice but hit you with the atomic bomb of nag screens.
That's right. Here come. You saw some little warnings before. This one right here is about to blow your shit UP.
You think you can read some sports opinions or some celebrity gossip without exposing that browser to all sorts of malwares? Motherfucker, you had better think again. Nobody gets in here to look at all our slide shows of what is coming to Netflix without letting Russians see their passwords. You think you are too good for Pavel and Yurgi? Fuck you. They need to eat just as bad as our shit ass listicle writers. They got families too.
Journalism is dead and guess who killed it, motherfucker? You and your Chrome extension. Get the fuck out of here. You disgusting piece of shit.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
Grimy horror growler Rob Zombie's scariest music videos finally ranked to warn your children.
A sign proclaiming "BACTA: DA FUTURE" marks the town's medical clinic
1998: I upload dave.pcx, and change the course of history
Set goals for yourself, and fulfill them. Absurd! Only in video games!
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.