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/b/ is not of substance, nor time, it is intangible and inperceivable; a paradox of existence. It is where the world's most powerful yet disturbed minds go to roam and contaminate. It is thought to be perceived as horrible even by its regulars, for it is. But to the dark minds that roam /b/, horrible is a mild value. /b/ is darker than Hell's deepest circle after the last ember has been extinguished. /b/ is where minds, dreams, hopes, sanity, innocence and morals die and inexplicable addiction festers.
/b/ is where Earth's darkest minds go to mingle amongst their own kind in a disorganized mess of offensive, random dialogue. /b/'s regulars have seen more gore, genitalia, insanity, racism and pure unfathomable random offensiveness than Zeus, the Greek god of lightning (and fornicating with mortals). In /b/, gore, genitalia, insanity, racism and pure unfathomable random offensiveness are tangible daggers that are incessantly flying around in a flurry of the darkest inner thoughts of world’s darkest minds giving the foundation of a ubiquitous gloom amongst the lost, innocent minds that wander ignorantly unto the realm. /b/ renders the most innocent minds cripplingly depressed and disturbed.
/b/ is the man urinating in the corner of a subway car.
/b/ is Jeffery Dahlmer.
/b/ is rape and murder.
/b/ is the way its minds see the world.
/b/ is only beginning.
Warning!!!: gut-wrenchingly horrifying, but this IS /b/. (NotSafeForAnywhere)>>>
Google:
4chan /b/
Man one: "Dude have you heard of /b/?"
Man two: "No, what is it?"
Man one: "Before I tell you, do you have people in your life who care about you?"
Man two: "Uh... yeah."
Man one: "Then never mind."
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/b/ is the guy who tells the cripple ahead of him in line to hurry up.
/b/ is first to get to the window to see the car accident outside.
/b/ is the one who wrote your number on the mall's bathroom wall.
/b/ is a failing student who makes passes at his young, attractive English teacher.
/b/ is the guy loitering on Park Ave. that is always trying to sell you something.
/b/ is the one who handed his jizz-drenched clothes to Good Will.
/b/ is one who introduced you first to Goatse.
/b/ is a hot incest dream that you'll try to forget for days.
/b/ is the only one of your group of friends to be secure in his sexuality and say anything.
/b/ is the guy without ED who still likes trying Viagra.
/b/ is the best friend that tags along for your first date and cock-blocks throughout night. The decent girl you're trying to bag walks out on the date, /b/ laughs and takes you home when you're drunk, and you wake up to several hookers in your house who /b/ called for you.
/b/ is a friend that constantly asks you to try mutual masturbation with him.
/b/ is the guy who calls a suicide hotline to hit on the advisor
/b/ is nuking the hard-drive next time someone knocks on his door.
/b/ is the one who left a used condom outside the schoolyard.
/b/ is the voice in your head that tells you that it doesn't matter if she's drunk.
/b/ is the friend who constantly talks about your mom's rack.
/b/ is the only one who understands what the hell you saying.
/b/ is someone who would pay a hooker to eat his ass, and only that.
/b/ is the uncle who has touched you several times.
/b/ is still recovering in the hospital, after trying something he saw in a hentai.
/b/ is the pleasure you feel guilty of when you tried playing with your anus during masturbation.
/b/ is wonderful.
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Bam to behold, a public bulletin board, built of both brilliance and barbarity by bastards with boners. This bastion, no mere bulwark of boredom, is a brutal barrage of blistering bullshit, barely benevolent... but behind the bigotry and boobs, beyond the bitter broadcasts of bragging buffoons: here be the body politic. A brotherhood of blasphemy, blessed with more balls than brains, battling the bland, the bogus, the benign. Bedlam? Bring it on. But I babble... better to be brief.
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Rule 1 of the Internet: Do not talk about /b/.
Rule 2 of the Internet: Do NOT talk about /b/.
For those of you who don't already know, read on at your own risk and never mention it anywhere else.
/b/ is an image board on the infamous website 4chan. It has often been described as the toilet bowl of the internet; this is just the tip of the iceberg. /b/ is the darkest dungeon at the back of the darkest building at the end of the darkest street in the dirtiest toilet bowl in the unruliest prison.
Blue waffle, special fried rice, tubgirl, goatse and meatspin are all old material here, and common appearances include these along with pornographic/hentai renditions of every idea known to man (see Rule 34 of the Internet) and every disgusting sexual fetish conjured by man.
Don't destroy your eyes and brain, and don't force it on other people. Just one quick peek and you'll never forget it.
If /b/ was the only punishment in court, the world would be free of war and crime.
Don't do it. Just DON'T.
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It's just a fucking letter! However, the word is sometimes used to describe your friends or lovers and even to reply back to a compliment.
"You are looking damn sexy tonight!"
"Thanks B!"
"Hey B!"
"Hiya babe!"
"What you up to B?"
"Nothing much babe."
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emoticon showing thumbs up, but might be slightly disturbed or just not sure whats going on.
good job --b
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