SoyBooru
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toniylijani: @Chud:
==WE CHUDS LOVE POSTING BAIT! BUT THAT AIN'T THE ONLY THING WE BAIT! WE MIGHT BE MASTERS! BUT WE CERTAINLY DO MASTURBATE!"
AHHHH AHHHH IM CHUDDING IT
IM CHUDDING IT
POSTING LOW QUALITY BAIT! SINCE 1968!==WE CHUDS LOVE POSTING BAIT! BUT THAT AIN'T THE ONLY THING WE BAIT! WE MIGHT BE MASTERS! BUT WE CERTAINLY DO MASTURBATE!"
WARRIOR-Z PLEASE STOP UNAPPROVING MY FETISH SLOP! I HATE YOU!!
toniylijani: failed red text award.. its so over...
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Chud: This special is like this
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Chud: Good idea but originates from a furnoon comic,its coal
professornothingburger2: idk ive done a lot i used to goon outside everyday on a dead road, ive worn a dog collar so tightly my mom thought i tied a noose around my neck I've drank gallons of my own piss, ive used food as a dildo then ate it what about you now
showing 5 of 24 comments
professornothingburger2: Mods this post has a woman soyjak with her fucking tits out
congo_aryan: jimbos pooner gf
showing 5 of 15 comments
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Chud: Why does Garf have 666 downvotes?
congo_aryan: 
We gather with heavy hearts to remember Jimbo-a man who lived simply but left a lasting mark on those who truly saw him. Short in stature and chubby in frame, he resided in a modest hut, lived on his own terms, and walked through life with a spirit that was raw, real, and entirely his.
Of African descent, Jimbo cherished his roots and found deep joy in the bold, comforting flavors of Afro cuisine. Meals with him were more than sustenance-they were expressions of love, memory, and identity. Food was one of the many ways he kept his culture close, and he shared it generously.
He was a person of contradictions-gentle but blunt, quiet but unforgettable. He bore a scent that many found hard to ignore-earthy, unapologetic, and part of the unfiltered truth he carried in every aspect of his life. Jimbo did not pretend. He was who he was.
Tragically, Jimbo died by suicide. We do not pretend to understand the weight he carried, nor the pain that brought him to that moment. But we do know this: he mattered. His life, in all its complexity, was worthy of love, compassion, and remembrance.
Let us not define him by how he left us, but remember him for how he lived-with honesty, depth, cultural pride, and a stubborn refusal to be anyone but himself. May we carry forward his memory not only with sorrow, but with tenderness and truth.
Rest peacefully, Jimbo.
You were seen. You are missed. You are loved.
In Loving Memory of Jimbo
We gather with heavy hearts to remember Jimbo-a man who lived simply but left a lasting mark on those who truly saw him. Short in stature and chubby in frame, he resided in a modest hut, lived on his own terms, and walked through life with a spirit that was raw, real, and entirely his.
Of African descent, Jimbo cherished his roots and found deep joy in the bold, comforting flavors of Afro cuisine. Meals with him were more than sustenance-they were expressions of love, memory, and identity. Food was one of the many ways he kept his culture close, and he shared it generously.
He was a person of contradictions-gentle but blunt, quiet but unforgettable. He bore a scent that many found hard to ignore-earthy, unapologetic, and part of the unfiltered truth he carried in every aspect of his life. Jimbo did not pretend. He was who he was.
Tragically, Jimbo died by suicide. We do not pretend to understand the weight he carried, nor the pain that brought him to that moment. But we do know this: he mattered. His life, in all its complexity, was worthy of love, compassion, and remembrance.
Let us not define him by how he left us, but remember him for how he lived-with honesty, depth, cultural pride, and a stubborn refusal to be anyone but himself. May we carry forward his memory not only with sorrow, but with tenderness and truth.
Rest peacefully, Jimbo.
You were seen. You are missed. You are loved.
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Chud: This is more relevant now than it ever used to be.
showing 5 of 44 comments
emerald: 
In Loving Memory of
We gather with heavy hearts to remember Garf-a man who lived simply but left a lasting mark on those who truly saw him. Short in stature and chubby in frame, he resided in a modest hut, lived on his own terms, and walked through life with a spirit that was raw, real, and entirely his.
Of African descent, Garf cherished his roots and found deep joy in the bold, comforting flavors of Afro cuisine. Meals with him were more than sustenance-they were expressions of love, memory, and identity. Food was one of the many ways he kept his culture close, and he shared it generously.
He was a person of contradictions-gentle but blunt, quiet but unforgettable. He bore a scent that many found hard to ignore-earthy, unapologetic, and part of the unfiltered truth he carried in every aspect of his life. Garf did not pretend. He was who he was.
Tragically, Garf died by suicide. We do not pretend to understand the weight he carried, nor the pain that brought him to that moment. But we do know this: he mattered. His life, in all its complexity, was worthy of love, compassion, and remembrance.
Let us not define him by how he left us, but remember him for how he lived-with honesty, depth, cultural pride, and a stubborn refusal to be anyone but himself. May we carry forward his memory not only with sorrow, but with tenderness and truth.
In Loving Memory of
GVRF
We gather with heavy hearts to remember Garf-a man who lived simply but left a lasting mark on those who truly saw him. Short in stature and chubby in frame, he resided in a modest hut, lived on his own terms, and walked through life with a spirit that was raw, real, and entirely his.
Of African descent, Garf cherished his roots and found deep joy in the bold, comforting flavors of Afro cuisine. Meals with him were more than sustenance-they were expressions of love, memory, and identity. Food was one of the many ways he kept his culture close, and he shared it generously.
He was a person of contradictions-gentle but blunt, quiet but unforgettable. He bore a scent that many found hard to ignore-earthy, unapologetic, and part of the unfiltered truth he carried in every aspect of his life. Garf did not pretend. He was who he was.
Tragically, Garf died by suicide. We do not pretend to understand the weight he carried, nor the pain that brought him to that moment. But we do know this: he mattered. His life, in all its complexity, was worthy of love, compassion, and remembrance.
Let us not define him by how he left us, but remember him for how he lived-with honesty, depth, cultural pride, and a stubborn refusal to be anyone but himself. May we carry forward his memory not only with sorrow, but with tenderness and truth.
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Chud: Rule 34 Jimbo getting Split-Roasted by GARF and WARRIOR-Z
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Chud: BBGHAST COAL
showing 5 of 6 comments
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Chud: Ching chong
Black_Watch: holy gem
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Chud: gemm
tolyatangerine: VOCAGEMERALD!!!!
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Chud: The text in kanji means
"Daizu" - soybean (first half)
"Shonen" - young man (second half)
Soybean + young man = soyboy
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Chud1: gem
tolyatangerine: ascii-like gem
showing 5 of 16 comments
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'c0rdsonBRAPS woke up
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