Alright so there's this guy right? And he's really funny, he really REALLY think's he's funny. He works this software development job. Head honcho, top of the pack, stack, whatever. Knuckled his way up there fighting other developers for the throne. And he sits on top of it, and this shit, this jam, this code that is all up in his biz (serious business), is open source, always has been, never won't be. Its the people's code, the United Socialist Contributors Collective, that sweet sweet USCC.

Oh man you know it. And its for this app, nah man this GAME, and this game has like, I dunno like 2000 people playing it and they're all up in the sauce of the code and spreading it on their individual player experience sandwiches thinking that it is the SHIT. Like not SHIT, but THE shit. Except some people want to crush up their peanut packet from their MRE (oh yeah that milsim bullshit that the internet loves mmmhm oh yeah call me a PVT, dare I say... a PFC!?) and some want to trade their craft single slice that got burnt on the radiator from the back of the Bradley for those peanuts. And hell man, some of these people, they have the gall to say “nah man, I want the skittles but not the rehydrated chicken breast” (the nerve of 'em, I swear). And when you got all those ideas, all those conflicting food choices and its actually code and feature requests and oh god why is that dude literally downloading the repository each time he has to rebase his branches. Anyway so this guy, OUR guy, the honcho that happened to be head, lord of code flies and files and all their vast resources (collectively amounting to maybe 6 or 7 macbooks from 2009 (spoiler they were refurbished from 2007)) has to think.

Like man, as the honcho of the heads of the stack of the pack of the saucy MRE code nightmare, what happens when I change up what comes in the MREs? Like what the FUCK happens when LCPL. Clearsmire in bootfuck nowhere downloading this shit at -6/kbs tears open his digital MRE after loading up the github one day and sees in the changelog (and its a mighty changelog), that his favorite MRE (the one with rehydrated spaghetti chunks, chalky basil paste, and a packet of crisps from 1998) has been replaced by some other dude who said “nah man I don't like chalky basil paste, so I made it creamy instead” from the either side of the god damn solar system?

Whats the head of the stack of honchos gonna do back here on earth?

The tent has to be big enough to support both creamy and chalky basil paste, lest we devolve into an anarchy of design that leads to the dissolution of the individual beneath a tide of repeatable imagery and rehashed internet culture that youtube channels and behindthememe.com barely even scratch the surface of the rooted culture connotation of shitpost that's been brewing since 2005?

Hell no man, he's gonna laugh, he's gonna write about it in his little journal that no one else gets to see where all his bank passwords are (its a legal notepad he keeps in the top drawer of the dresser opposite his bed, the sort of drawer no one ever opens unless they're a burglar or testing the tensile strength of cabinet rollers at IKEA before purchase) and shove it away where the sun don't shine because he doesn't have time for this japery, this madness, this silly joke of a contextless arbitrary abstraction of a pull request. Because at the end of the day, just like he is, its all disposable, so why let the basil paste get him down? He likes the rehydrated chicken anyway, it goes an extra mile if you add some jalapenos.

So he eats the jalapenos and filters the rest out because he doesn't have time for it, and everytime he sees his father across the street before he goes to work at his software firm he reminds himself with a guilty conscience that ignorance IS bliss
(Authors note: Thanks Orwell~)...

at least in this climate, this culture, that looking at pictures of cute dogs and letting Google feed him more pictures of cute dogs, all while getting advertisements for lawn ornaments because he has a script running that obfuscates his browser history by mirroring what his dad looks up on his home computer is all better than looking at some stupid political meme.

But those memes aren't stupid to LCPL Clearsmire, they're an idea, a message, a shitpost, something to laugh at, something to inflame with, and... by fucking god's grace (whichever you happen to not believe in, Clearsmire thinks, is the god in this sentence) is he gonna link and spread that shit because its a shitpost and its a meme and its all the same.

At the end of the day, Clearsmire, the honcho boncho groncho who happens to code..

actually between you and me, forget everything you just read (we hope you found some of it amusing) because a meme, a shitpost, a image macro, its just a link or an embed that someone thought was worth sharing for whatever reason that compelled them to view it in the first place.
It can be anything man, and that's the fun part, and the worst part, and this page is one.

So go and put the kettle on, because the meme ain't gonna die, nor is the basil paste or any of that mumbo jumbo. He's gonna keep on coding and Clearsmire is gonna keep on shitpostin' and the boys aren't coming home from the war to kiss Marmelade goodbye.

So in case you didn't get it, this page was a shitpost, it was a meme. Demonstratively, a meme can be just about anything. I wouldn't say this was the most informative way to go about it (in fact an abstracted piece of rambling creative writing that hasn't suffered all that much peer-review isn't a great idea, on paper or on the web). Certainly not, but it was fun.




Ok actually lemme just give you an actual explanation real quick.