Useless Thread MCMXCVII - 51 Year Old Spams His Plushies (Xmas Still Canceled)

SoupNazi

Gee Wally/SoupNazi 2024
Feb 6, 2010
27,194
17,472
One of the rare times I can mention what I'm doing at work which is blaring 50 cent - Hustler's Ambition while reading over benefits on The computer and we also get parental leave!

now to make a John Price jr...

The women in my life bring confusion and shit
So like Nino in "New Jack," I holla "Cancel that bitch!"


oh it's maternal benefits eh
No woman is going to breed with a manchild with a plushie collection and no job.
 

John Price

Gang Gang
Sep 19, 2008
386,581
31,201
PXL_20241215_233446409.jpg
 
  • Haha
Reactions: PanthersPens62

SoupNazi

Gee Wally/SoupNazi 2024
Feb 6, 2010
27,194
17,472
@John Price sounds like the kind of guy who argues over which fourth-liner deserves more ice time as if it’s the key to world peace, all while buried in his parents’ basement. He probably spends more time fluffing his plushie collection than fluffing a résumé, which is why he’s still unemployed and still debating how the 2012 draft "ruined the franchise."

Calling him a manchild feels generous — at least children have some excuse. Meanwhile, John’s over here yelling at teenagers on Reddit about Corsi stats, thinking his hot takes are “revolutionary” when they’re just reheated garbage. Maybe one day he’ll leave his plushies behind and upgrade to actual human interaction — but honestly, even his stuffed Pikachu might ghost him.
 

SoupNazi

Gee Wally/SoupNazi 2024
Feb 6, 2010
27,194
17,472
@John Price, the legendary hfboards poster infamous for his “useless threads” and renowned for his unusual passion for plushie collecting, had finally decided to take a vacation to Disneyland. It wasn’t just any trip for John—it was a pilgrimage. The promise of themed claw machines filled with exclusive Disney plushies was too tempting for him to resist. He had meticulously planned his visit down to the minute, listing every spot that might house a claw machine and setting aside an eye-watering budget of several thousand dollars to feed his obsession.

The morning of his visit began with a sense of optimism. John entered the park as soon as the gates opened, clutching his Disneyland map and muttering to himself about plushie strategies he’d read online. He marched past Sleeping Beauty’s Castle and skipped the rides entirely, heading straight for Tomorrowland, where he’d read rumors about a particularly "generous" claw machine filled with alien plushies from Toy Story.

By the time he located the machine, John was already sweating. He pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from his wallet, broke it into quarters, and began the ritual he had perfected over years of practice. Quarter in, joystick nudge, claw drop, claw close, and... nothing. The plush alien slipped through the claw’s grasp.

“Just bad luck,” he muttered, feeding the machine more quarters.

An hour passed. Then two. The alien plushies stared mockingly at him through the glass as claw after claw failed to deliver. Nearby kids, who initially cheered him on, lost interest and wandered off to get churros with their parents. John, however, was determined.

By lunchtime, he had sunk nearly $500 into that single machine. A cast member eventually approached him, gently suggesting that others might want a turn. Defeated, John moved on, but his spirits were not broken. The park was filled with claw machines, and he still had plenty of cash.

He found his next target in Adventureland—a jungle-themed claw machine stocked with exclusive Disney animal plushies. A plush Simba caught his eye. “This is it,” he thought. “This is my redemption.” But as the hours passed, the cycle repeated. His money dwindled. He blamed the humidity, the glare on the glass, the claw's grip strength—everything except his own obsession.

By mid-afternoon, John had spent over $3,000 and had nothing to show for it except a growing sense of despair. He consoled himself by purchasing an overpriced Dole Whip, only to drop it moments later when he tripped over a stray stroller. Covered in pineapple goo, he stumbled into a gift shop, where he briefly considered buying a plushie outright but dismissed the idea. “That’s not how real collectors do it,” he muttered, shaking his head.

His final stop was the massive claw machine in Pixar Pier, known for its rotating array of rare plushies. John was down to his last $200. A crowd gathered as he made his final attempts, their murmurs filling the air: “Is he okay?” “Why doesn’t he just stop?” “This is kind of sad.”

In a moment of poetic irony, John did manage to grab a plush with his very last quarter—a tiny, generic, off-brand toy that must have accidentally ended up in the Disney machine. Holding the poorly-stitched bear, John’s face fell.

As the park’s fireworks lit up the night sky, John sat alone on a bench near Main Street. Families and couples bustled past him, their arms filled with souvenirs, plushies, and memories. John stared at his empty backpack, save for the worthless bear, and sighed. “Maybe this would make a good thread,” he mumbled to himself, pulling out his phone. He opened hfboards and began typing: ‘Worst Day of My Life: Disneyland Claw Machines Are Rigged’.

The thread would later be ignored, just like all of his others.
 

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