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memeception

WE’VE HIT TERMINAL MEME

@caesarianconfection

I’ve said “I hate this” so many times on this website, and never actually meant it, because “I hate this” is just shorthand for ‘this is an example of a meme given a twist I wasn’t expecting with intent to surprise’. Which is, in of itself, a meme on this site. God damn it.

But this… This is something else.

The rapidity of a meme’s introduction to its zenith to its decline is so rapid that in ten years, you’ll need a damn twenty-page manual to explain this. It’ll be as unfunny and hard to explain as jokes in Shakespeare plays, except even more inexplicable because fuck, at least Shakespeare’s jokes are usually about anal or fucking your mother, good wholesome sex jokes we can all get behind.

For the love of fuck, how do you explain loss.jpg? How do you explain gun?

….I THOUGHT THIS WAS A YMCA REFERENCE

it is a YMCA reference - that’s one of the 6 memes being represented here

ok let me see if i can break this down easily. YMCA is the easiest place to start - the song itself has become a meme over time with people changing the lyrics to reference other pop cultural events. so YMCA is meme one (1)

this first lyric replacement (”take the breadsticks and run”) is a reference to the tumblr meme ‘stuffing breadsticks into my purse’. i think everyone remembers that one so i wont bother to explain it. that’s meme two (2)

“man door hand hook car door” is a meme of its own, a creepypasta from i dont remember when. it was a terrible stupid retelling of the generic ‘stuck in a car while hook handed man tries to kill us’ story so the stupid title caught on for memorability. that in and of itself is meme three (3)

‘gun’ is… yeah i dont know how to explain gun. long story short you add gun to the end of a phrase instead of what you expect the last word to be. its shock funny. its everywhere but its popular to add to “man door hand hook car door” for.. some reason? gun is meme four (4)

and the thing is, this four meme combo is something thats gone around before. meme combos are, itself, a meme. which means taking this meme combo and mixing in another meme actually becomes meme five (5)

which leaves us at loss.jpg. loss.jpg was a terrible bad comic supposed to be about some tragic event, but it was presented so poorly literally no one takes it seriously, and for some reason recreating the four-panel setup has become popular. so thats meme six (6)

(but i need to add that this is the greatest version of loss.jpg i think i’ve ever seen. the initial ‘young man’ lines up with the guy bursting through the door, and the shock meme ‘gun’ matches the shock scene of the woman in the hospital and idk if OP even thought about that but it makes this just so much better)

I wasn’t going to reblog this, but @pagesofkenna‘s comprehensive meme-by-meme annotation is a thing of beauty and should be shared.

average tumblr post contains one meme, this post, which contains six, is an outlier and should not be counted

it might also just be a coincidence due to loss.jpg’s format but the whole white minimalist four-panel setup is also suspiciously reminiscent of those early 2000’s rage comics

I was getting a political compass vibe too

tag urself im man door hand hook car gun

This works better than I thought it would.

Leaving the planet.

┏┓ ┃┃╱╲ in this ┃╱╱╲╲ house ╱╱╭╮╲╲ we spend ▔▏┗┛▕▔ too much money ╱▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔╲         on Pokemon ╱╱┏┳┓╭╮┏┳┓ ╲╲ ▔▏┗┻┛┃┃┗┻┛▕▔

Tediursa: doo dee doo off ta skool

Ursaring: off to file these FUCKING TAXES

Ursaring looks like a lawyer who could be trusted.

*blows a kiss* for Pokemon

Cursed Misdreavus are very quirky, and tend to put others at unease due to their strange antics. Sealed Mismagius (while equally quirky) are very powerful Pokémon, and are commonly sought after by ghost-type specialists.

Requested by Anonymous!

If the aliens invade there will be memes about it within five minutes

when you knew aliens were real but you gotta act surprised

when you fake sick and everyones like “yeah you look really terrible”

Everyone has the date of their death tattooed on their arm at birth, however yours just says “TOMORROW” and has said that all your life.

The confusion and anxiety started when I was first born; my parents were both in tears, and all of the doctors offered their condolences. The next day, I was alive and well, much to the confusion of everyone involved. Maybe it was a mistake? Or I would die the next day instead. But I kept living. My parents taught me to hide it, to lie about it. I always covered the tattoo up with long sleeves or ‘bandages’ during the summer. My mother had panic attacks regularly and rarely slept. My father insisted on always knowing where I was going, and constantly checked up on me. I was never left alone. Eventually, when I was old enough to understand what the tattoo meant, and what death was, the anxiety hit me too. I was constantly worried, sometimes staring at the words late at night when I was alone in bed. It didn’t make any sense to me. It didn’t make sense to anyone. But my family and I had come to the agreement that under no circumstances was anyone to find out what the word on my arm really was. Throughout the years of my life, the anxiety would come and go - why would I die now? But moments of fear still passed through me whenever I got into a car, or a friend dared me to go on a roller coaster. Some people called me a coward. I wasn’t a coward - I was confused. I was just trying to live. A part of me knew I should be grateful, grateful for living so long for no justified reason. But I was too confused to care. That is, until one day in my philosophy class, when we started discussing famous phrases and the meanings behind them. Class was normal - a little dull, a little quiet, but interesting enough. Phrases entered and exited the discussion, and I occasionally listened to the discussion. About ten minutes before we were suppose to leave, the professor asked for one last phrase. A girl behind me raised her hand. “Yes? What’s your phrase?” “My phrase is ‘tomorrow never comes.’” Those words hit me, consumed me, making me struggle to breath. Class went on as normal as I sat there, making sense of the words. How had I never heard that phrase before? I suppose my parents protected me from it. But how? It seems like a simple phrase that could be thrown around without anyone making much out of it. But then again, I suppose there’s really not many opportunities to use it. Tomorrow never comes. Tomorrow never comes. Tomorrow never comes. What did that mean for me? I sat through the rest of my classes, thinking and barely acknowledging my lessons, eventually reaching the end of the school day. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and went to text my dad the news. The statement. But as I typed the words, the realization hit me.

Everyone else had dates written on their arm. Dates like “September 17, 2068.” Or “August 23, 2100.” But tomorrow isn’t a date. Tomorrow isn’t a date. “Tomorrow never comes.” I’m immortal.

That was beautiful

cecphotos x Eastern Sierra Mountains

Welo Opal - Ethiopia

i am dying

Free Him

I reblog this every time I see it, because it’s one of life’s hardest lessons.

why are there so many posts about asexuals being immune to sirens. people. sirens don’t lure you in with sex (necessarily). they sing about whatever it is that you want most. they could sing about mothman or cinnamon toast crunch and guess what then your asexual pirate is fucking dead

this is the only kind of ace discourse i ever want to see on my dash. the only kind. ever again. good job

Do you think the sirens would be grateful that they finally get some variety? 

“Oh my god we can finally just sing about pasta thank the fucking gods.” 

I’m not asexual but I’m fairly certain sirens would do a far better job luring me into the depths with a song about pasta rather than sex…

I mean. 

“WHAT THE FUCK STAY AWAY FROM THE ROCKS.”

“FUCKER THEY SAID THEY HAVE FETTUCCINE CARBONARA AND HOT GARLIC BREAD OVER THERE HANG ON BITCH.” 

This is true; Odysseus heard them promising him knowledge of the future.  So the next time you see artwork like this:

Remember those sultry naked chicks are saying “We’ll tell you the winning lotto numbers.”

Them: “We have unlimited wifi at incredible speeds~” Me: *diving headfirst into the water*

I love this post

Them: hey man if you jump into the water you’ll fucking drown Me: i’m all in baby

“Away with you!” I exclaimed, swinging an oar toward the unyielding siren

“Oh, but we have anything you could ever want,” she cooed. I shook my head.

“I want for nothing! There is nothing you could offer me!” The siren paused for a moment.

“Dank Memes,” she said, “The Dankest Memes you co–” Her sentence was cut short by my epic cannonball into the water.

Reblogging for the last comment

“Anything…anything you want…” the creatures voice is soft, and twists in unknown ways filling my ears with music that both frightens and enchants me “I want to die.” “You want-” the voice drops to a cracked vocal, its nirmal voice tgen. Im probably the only one who has ever heard it as the magic stops the creature stares at me with utter shock “you want to die?”

“I-um” I look down nervously, embarrassed now that I’ve asked. The creature looks at me with a thoughtful expression. Then it holds out its hand to me. “Come. We shall make you one of us. No longer shall you be frighten or alone. We will make you a child of the water.”

I barley hesitate, the world of the land is no longer the place for me. I have nothing holding me there, no family left alive, no friends that share compassion, and no freedom. I take its hand, and they yank me into the water just as my previous captors crash into the rocks, being killed instantly the stolen boat bursting in flames. Wood shoots through the water and bright orange colors dance above us as bubbles swarm through our vision

I start to panic as I find myself choking on water, scared of death now that I face it in such a painful way. I wait for the creature to let me go, to watch me sink to the bottom of the ocean laughing in victory. But they dont. They grip me tight a webbed hand runs across me face, calming me somehow.

I die in its arms.

But I do not stay dead. The ocean becomes my mother as she twists my soul in her waves. I wake a mere. Vengeful spirits Killin in water become siriens, often woman thrown overboard by pirates. Content spirits become mere. Mothers who have drowned saving a child.

I am a mere, but I sit with the siren sisters. I am different than they but they accept me. They are happy to have me in their company and I enjoy their work as I watch them use their skills to calm their anger. I make them seashell necklaces and tour underwater caves full of sparkling gems.

I am a mere, and I am no longer dead inside.

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St Andrew’s Cathedral

Fife, Scotland (1158 - 1561)