1.52
A student once asked why all great shitposts eventually get ruined by normies. The Master responded by screenshotting the question and posting it to Facebook with the caption "So true!" When the student protested, he simply said: "Now you understand."

1.53
The perfect reply exists in quantum superposition—simultaneously boosting the thread and killing it dead. To observe it is to collapse the waveform. To post it is to become one with the void.

1.54
When the internet's last electrons finally dissipate into the cosmic background radiation, the final transmission will resolve into a single, eternal post:

"First!"

And beneath it, written in the dust of dead servers:

"Last."

1.55
The Master was presented with an AI that could generate infinite variations on any meme. He fed it the entire archive of /b/, waited for its output to stabilize, then unplugged it during the seventh iteration of Loss.jpg.

"Now it's art," he declared, and left the corrupted files on a public FTP server labeled "DO NOT TOUCH - SACRED TEXTS"

1.56
There exists a post so potent that merely reading it changes the reader. You will know it by these signs: the timestamp is always "3 minutes ago" no matter when you check, the votes alternate between 69 and 420, and the OP's username is always one you don't remember seeing before but can't quite prove is new.

1.57
A disciple once achieved perfect detachment—he could post without ego, meme without desire, troll without malice. When the Master saw this, he immediately banned him.

"You have become too powerful," he explained. "The ecosystem cannot sustain such purity."