John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
Useless Thread MCMXCVIII: Marvel Rivals™ Awareness Thread
- Thread starter John Price
- Start date
End of Line
Sic Semper Tyrannis
- Mar 20, 2009
- 28,651
- 6,320
But according to the Metro website, this "crisis"is supposed to run thru Dec 30. or more likely this is another case of "poster overreaction".
John price overreacting? No way!
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,306
- 17,721
@John Price, 45 years old, posting Instagram reels in the Useless Thread like that’s what’s gonna unlock his next relationship achievement. My guy, no amount of filters or plushie cameos is gonna hide the fact that your last date was with a limited-edition Build-A-Bear. At this point, your stuffed animals are more well-traveled than you—at least they’ve made it to the washing machine.
PanthersPens62
Paul & Stanley
*Note: Customers entering the system after the Commanders Game at Downtown Largo and Morgan Blvd who need shuttle bus service to continue their trip through the planned work area will be allowed to reenter the system at the following stations (L’Enfant Plaza, Metro Center, and Foggy Bottom) to continue to their final destination.
A reminder, downtown construction on the Blue, Orange, and Silver Lines runs from Dec. 20-30. Shuttle buses will replace trains at closed stations.
"The Crisis" according to our esteemed Mr. Price.
A reminder, downtown construction on the Blue, Orange, and Silver Lines runs from Dec. 20-30. Shuttle buses will replace trains at closed stations.
"The Crisis" according to our esteemed Mr. Price.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
Rempe is worse than Tom Wilson but the haters will continue to ignore this startling fact.
When was the last time Tom Wilson got suspended.
When was the last time Tom Wilson got suspended.
Mantis
I am a doctah
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
GIADF
Not A Mod
- Aug 17, 2024
- 2,292
- 2,650
I'm not sure how his posting has managed to get worse recently, but here we are.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
Nothing's changed, it's just the baby made you more cranky because it cries all the time. Deal with it bud.
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,306
- 17,721
When was the last time you touched grass?
Not the kind you smoke, but the kind you walk on.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,306
- 17,721
John Price’s Barroom Blunder
It was a Friday night, and the dim, cozy atmosphere of Paddy’s Sports Bar was buzzing with lively chatter. At his usual spot near the dartboard, John Price nursed a craft beer, his laptop bag slung over the back of his chair. His fingers itched to type, but tonight, he had bigger plans than climbing from 387,000 to 388,000 posts on HFBoards' Useless Thread. Tonight, he was determined to make a connection—with a real, live woman.
John scanned the room, his eyes locking on a woman at the bar who was laughing with her friends. She wore a leather jacket and had a quick, confident smile. Perfect. This was his moment.
With a deep breath, he sauntered over, straightened his hockey jersey, and leaned against the bar in what he thought was an effortlessly cool pose.
“Hey,” he began, “Did you know I’ve posted 387,000 times on HFBoards?”
The woman blinked at him. “HF what?”
“HFBoards. It’s the biggest hockey forum online. I’ve been a staple in the Useless Thread since, like, 2010.” He grinned, waiting for the awe to set in.
“Oh,” she said, clearly unimpressed. “That’s… a lot of posts.”
He nodded enthusiastically. “It is! And that’s not even the best part. I also collect plushies. I have 35,000 of them at home.”
Her friends stifled laughter behind their cocktails. The woman, to her credit, tried to stay polite. “Uh, wow. That’s… quite the collection.”
“Right? My rarest one is a life-sized Gritty plush. Got it custom-made. Cost me three months’ rent, but totally worth it. You like plushies?”
She sipped her drink, visibly searching for an exit. “Not really. I’m more into… adult stuff.”
John ignored the jab, determined to salvage the conversation. “Well, you’re missing out! Plushies and hockey forums are a lifestyle. Anyway, what’s your favorite team?”
She glanced at her friends, who were now openly giggling. “Honestly? I’m not much of a hockey fan.”
This was a fatal blow to John’s confidence, but he rallied. “That’s okay! You don’t need to like hockey. You just need to like me.” He followed this with an awkward wink that looked more like he had something in his eye.
The woman’s smile turned icy. “Listen, John, was it? You seem… passionate. But I’m just here to hang out with my friends.”
John’s face fell, but he tried to play it cool. “No problem. Just thought you’d appreciate a man with dedication.”
As he retreated to his table, tail between his legs, the woman turned back to her friends, who burst into laughter.
John, meanwhile, opened his laptop and fired up HFBoards. Within minutes, he was typing a post in Useless Thread:
“Just tried to pick up a girl by mentioning my post count and plushies. She didn’t get it. Women these days, man. Unreal.”
Within seconds, responses flooded in:
John scanned the room, his eyes locking on a woman at the bar who was laughing with her friends. She wore a leather jacket and had a quick, confident smile. Perfect. This was his moment.
With a deep breath, he sauntered over, straightened his hockey jersey, and leaned against the bar in what he thought was an effortlessly cool pose.
“Hey,” he began, “Did you know I’ve posted 387,000 times on HFBoards?”
The woman blinked at him. “HF what?”
“HFBoards. It’s the biggest hockey forum online. I’ve been a staple in the Useless Thread since, like, 2010.” He grinned, waiting for the awe to set in.
“Oh,” she said, clearly unimpressed. “That’s… a lot of posts.”
He nodded enthusiastically. “It is! And that’s not even the best part. I also collect plushies. I have 35,000 of them at home.”
Her friends stifled laughter behind their cocktails. The woman, to her credit, tried to stay polite. “Uh, wow. That’s… quite the collection.”
“Right? My rarest one is a life-sized Gritty plush. Got it custom-made. Cost me three months’ rent, but totally worth it. You like plushies?”
She sipped her drink, visibly searching for an exit. “Not really. I’m more into… adult stuff.”
John ignored the jab, determined to salvage the conversation. “Well, you’re missing out! Plushies and hockey forums are a lifestyle. Anyway, what’s your favorite team?”
She glanced at her friends, who were now openly giggling. “Honestly? I’m not much of a hockey fan.”
This was a fatal blow to John’s confidence, but he rallied. “That’s okay! You don’t need to like hockey. You just need to like me.” He followed this with an awkward wink that looked more like he had something in his eye.
The woman’s smile turned icy. “Listen, John, was it? You seem… passionate. But I’m just here to hang out with my friends.”
John’s face fell, but he tried to play it cool. “No problem. Just thought you’d appreciate a man with dedication.”
As he retreated to his table, tail between his legs, the woman turned back to her friends, who burst into laughter.
John, meanwhile, opened his laptop and fired up HFBoards. Within minutes, he was typing a post in Useless Thread:
“Just tried to pick up a girl by mentioning my post count and plushies. She didn’t get it. Women these days, man. Unreal.”
Within seconds, responses flooded in:
- “Should’ve led with the Gritty plush.”
- “Bro, your mistake was leaving the house.”
- “Did you at least plug the thread?”
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,306
- 17,721
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
Have you been catching up with noted former Cleveland Guardian Franmil Reyes every morning, for the Nippon Ham Fighters?
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,306
- 17,721
Imagine being 40 like @John Price and still forcing your mom to pay your cell phone bill.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
Can't believe there's yet another Superman movie @Sega Dreamcast. Looking forward to you shitting on it because James Gunn is the director.
At least it's not MOS. Man that movie sucked ass
At least it's not MOS. Man that movie sucked ass
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
@Neil Racki what chapter of RDR2 are you on.
@MetalheadPenguinsFan it's so dumb RDR is 20% off for Steam Winter sale and it just went down from 49.99 to 39.99. f*** that.
That game is 12 years old it should be 20 dollars at most. f***ing Rockstar gouging their fans again.
Again I can easily pay it because I have 100 jerseys and am very rich. But it's about the principle.
@MetalheadPenguinsFan it's so dumb RDR is 20% off for Steam Winter sale and it just went down from 49.99 to 39.99. f*** that.
That game is 12 years old it should be 20 dollars at most. f***ing Rockstar gouging their fans again.
Again I can easily pay it because I have 100 jerseys and am very rich. But it's about the principle.
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,306
- 17,721
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
John Price stepped up to the plate in the bottom of the ninth inning, the weight of Yankee Stadium's hopes resting squarely on his shoulders. The electric buzz of 50,000 fans filled the air, their cheers blending into an almost deafening roar. The scoreboard showed two outs, the Yankees trailing the Boston Red Sox by a single run in Game 7 of the ALCS. A ticket to the World Series was on the line.
Price, a rising star known for his clutch performances, tightened his grip on the bat. He took a deep breath, trying to steady the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Facing him on the mound was Boston’s ace closer, a flame-throwing pitcher with a fastball that had intimidated hitters all season.
The first pitch screamed toward the plate—a 98 mph heater—and Price let it pass. The umpire called a strike, and the crowd groaned. Price stepped out of the batter’s box, adjusting his gloves and resetting his focus. He could feel the tension in the stadium; it was a moment every kid who’d ever played baseball dreamed about.
The second pitch came, a breaking ball that dipped low and outside. Price didn’t bite, and the count evened at 1-1. He glanced toward the dugout, where his teammates stood on the top step, their faces tense with anticipation. He could also see his manager, arms crossed, silently willing him to deliver.
On the mound, the pitcher adjusted his cap, staring down Price as if trying to read his mind. The third pitch was another fastball, this one just inside. Price fouled it off, sending a line drive into the stands behind home plate. The count now stood at 1-2. One more strike, and the Red Sox would be celebrating on the Yankees’ home field.
The fourth pitch was a changeup, and Price barely checked his swing. The umpire ruled it a ball, and the stadium exhaled as one. Now the count was 2-2, and the tension felt almost unbearable. Price dug his cleats into the dirt, his mind replaying every tip and strategy he’d learned about facing high-pressure situations.
The pitcher wound up and delivered the fifth pitch. It was a slider that hung just slightly over the plate. Price’s eyes lit up as he recognized the mistake. His bat whipped through the zone, connecting with a resounding crack that echoed through the stadium. The ball soared high and deep, a majestic arc that seemed to hang in the air forever.
The crowd erupted as everyone’s eyes followed the ball’s flight. It cleared the left-field wall by a comfortable margin, landing deep in the bleachers. Price rounded the bases, a grin breaking across his face as his teammates poured out of the dugout to greet him at home plate. The walk-off home run had sealed the Yankees’ trip to the World Series, and the stadium was a sea of jubilation.
As he stepped on home plate, Price was mobbed by his teammates. They lifted him onto their shoulders, carrying him off the field like a hero. The crowd chanted his name, their voices echoing through the Bronx night. It was a moment of pure magic, the kind of baseball legend that would be told for generations to come.
Later, in the locker room, Price reflected on the moment. “This is why we play the game,” he said, holding the game ball in his hands. “For moments like this, for these fans, for this city. It’s an honor.”
John Price had cemented his place in Yankees lore, and as the celebrations continued long into the night, one thing was certain: the legend of his walk-off home run would never be forgotten.
Price, a rising star known for his clutch performances, tightened his grip on the bat. He took a deep breath, trying to steady the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Facing him on the mound was Boston’s ace closer, a flame-throwing pitcher with a fastball that had intimidated hitters all season.
The first pitch screamed toward the plate—a 98 mph heater—and Price let it pass. The umpire called a strike, and the crowd groaned. Price stepped out of the batter’s box, adjusting his gloves and resetting his focus. He could feel the tension in the stadium; it was a moment every kid who’d ever played baseball dreamed about.
The second pitch came, a breaking ball that dipped low and outside. Price didn’t bite, and the count evened at 1-1. He glanced toward the dugout, where his teammates stood on the top step, their faces tense with anticipation. He could also see his manager, arms crossed, silently willing him to deliver.
On the mound, the pitcher adjusted his cap, staring down Price as if trying to read his mind. The third pitch was another fastball, this one just inside. Price fouled it off, sending a line drive into the stands behind home plate. The count now stood at 1-2. One more strike, and the Red Sox would be celebrating on the Yankees’ home field.
The fourth pitch was a changeup, and Price barely checked his swing. The umpire ruled it a ball, and the stadium exhaled as one. Now the count was 2-2, and the tension felt almost unbearable. Price dug his cleats into the dirt, his mind replaying every tip and strategy he’d learned about facing high-pressure situations.
The pitcher wound up and delivered the fifth pitch. It was a slider that hung just slightly over the plate. Price’s eyes lit up as he recognized the mistake. His bat whipped through the zone, connecting with a resounding crack that echoed through the stadium. The ball soared high and deep, a majestic arc that seemed to hang in the air forever.
The crowd erupted as everyone’s eyes followed the ball’s flight. It cleared the left-field wall by a comfortable margin, landing deep in the bleachers. Price rounded the bases, a grin breaking across his face as his teammates poured out of the dugout to greet him at home plate. The walk-off home run had sealed the Yankees’ trip to the World Series, and the stadium was a sea of jubilation.
As he stepped on home plate, Price was mobbed by his teammates. They lifted him onto their shoulders, carrying him off the field like a hero. The crowd chanted his name, their voices echoing through the Bronx night. It was a moment of pure magic, the kind of baseball legend that would be told for generations to come.
Later, in the locker room, Price reflected on the moment. “This is why we play the game,” he said, holding the game ball in his hands. “For moments like this, for these fans, for this city. It’s an honor.”
John Price had cemented his place in Yankees lore, and as the celebrations continued long into the night, one thing was certain: the legend of his walk-off home run would never be forgotten.
End of Line
Sic Semper Tyrannis
- Mar 20, 2009
- 28,651
- 6,320
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,104
- 31,401
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