Ghetto up websites with gizoogle!

[Vinculi]

Thank you, so very much.

 

[Robot Number V]

Apparently, Doctor Who is about a "time-pimpin' humanoid alien" who "flies all up in tha time vortex" in a "funky-ass blue British 5-0 Box" while "hittin that shizzle to save civilizations, help ordinary gangstas, 'n mothafuckin' right wrongs".

There are no words to describe my gratitude to the OP for showing me this.

 

[Chicago Ted]

Fan Fiction + Gizoogle = ...

OH GOD, OH GOD WHAT HAVE I CREATED?! THIS IS AN ABOMINATION OF THE WRITTEN WORD!

 

[Esotera]

And here [http://www.gizoogle.net/index.php?search=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.escapistmagazine.com%2Fforums%2Fread%2F18.399406-Ghetto-up-websites-with-gizoogle&se=Gizoogle+Dis+Shiznit] is this thread translated.

This is possibly the best thing since google...

 

[saintdane05]

Yo mah fuckin name be Ebony Dark'nizz Dementia Raven Way n' I have long ebony black afro (thatz how tha fuck I gots mah name) wit purple streaks n' red tips dat reaches mah mid-back n' icy blue eyes like limpid tears n' a shitload of gangstas tell mah crazy ass I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don't give a fuck whoz ass her ass is git da hell outta here!). I be not related ta Gerard Way but I wish I was cuz he be straight a major fuckin hottie. I be a vampire but mah teeth is straight n' white. I have pale white skin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I be also a witch, n' I go ta a magic school called Hogwarts up in England where I be up in tha seventh year (I be seventeen). I be a goth (in case you couldn't tell) n' I wear mostly black. I gots a straight-up boner fo' Hot Topic n' I cop all mah threadz from there. For example todizzle I was bustin a funky-ass black corset wit matchin lace around it n' a funky-ass black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets n' black combat boots. I was bustin black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner n' red eye shadow. I was struttin outside Hogwarts. It was snowin n' rainin so there was no sun, which I was straight-up aiiight bout fo' realz. A lot of preps stared at mah dirty ass. I put up mah middle finger at them.
'


Chapter 32.

Publisherz Note: Yo everyone, muthafucka! It aint nuthin but Olive again, muthafucka! So, as Jade probably busted some lyrics ta you last week, we're bustin dis easier on ourselves by switchin off n' bustin tha publishin AND tha props every last muthafuckin weekend. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! So dat means dat you should leave fuckin shitloadz of pretty props cuz mah responses is so much mo' funk than hers. Fuck dat shit, just kidding, Jade is wonderful. But I be wonderfull-er XD

AN: I sed stup fflamin I no his nam iznt tom bodil dat wuz a mistak!1111 if u dnot lik de rap den u kan go skrew urself!11111 U SUK!111111

"Hi." I holla'd flirtily. "Im Enoby Way da freshly smoked up student." I shok mah pale handz wif they blak noil polish wif his muthafuckin ass.

"Da namez Tom." he holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "But u kan call mah crazy ass Satan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Datz ma middle nam"

Our thugged-out asses shok hands. "Well come on our crazy-ass asses have 2 go upstairs." Satan holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I followed his muthafuckin ass. "Yo Satan?..do u happen ta be a gangbangin' hustla of Gren Day?" (sinz mcr n' evinezenz dont exist yet den) I axed.

"Oh mah fukin god, how tha fuck did u know?" Satan gasped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "muthafuckin I like gc a shitload too."(geddit coz gc did dat cold lil' woo wop I just wanna live thatz ounded straight-up 80s)

"omg mah crazy ass too!" I replied happily.

"guess what tha fuck they gots a cold-ass lil concert up in hogsment." satan whispered.

"hogsment?" I axed.

"yeah thatz what tha fuck they used ta booty-call it up in these time before it became Hogsmeade up in 2000." he busted some lyrics ta mah crazy ass all sekrtivly. "and theres a straight-up def shop called Hot-"

'topic!" I finshed, aiiight again.

Dude froned trippinly. "noo its called Hot Ishoo." Dude smiled skrtvli again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "then up in 1998 dey changd it ta hot topic." he moaned.

"ohh." now everythang was bustin sense fo' mah dirty ass. "so is dumblydor yo' princepill?" I shouted.

"uh-huh." he looked at his black nails. "im up in slitherin'"

"OMfG SHME TOO!" I SHRIEDKED.

"u go ta dis skull?"(geddit cos im goffik) he axed.

"yah thatz why im here im NEW." I SMELLED HAPPili.

Guess what, muthafucka! Suddenly dumblydore flew up in on his broomstuck n' started shreddin at our asses angrily. "NO TALKING IN THE HALLS!" he had short blonde afro n' was bustin a polo hoodie from Amrikan ogle outfters. "STUPID GOFFS!"

satan rolled his wild lil' fuckin eyes. "his so mean ta our asses goffs n' punks just becose we're up in slytherine n' we're not preps."

I turned around angrily. "muthafuckin I fink mebe its becos ur da barke lord."

"wtf?" he axed angrily.

"oh nuffin." I holla'd sweetly.

then suddenlyn?. tha floor opened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "OMFG NO I SCEAMED AS I FEEL DOWN. everyone looked At ME weirdly."

"hey where r u goin?" satan axed as I fell.

I gots outta tha hole n it was bak up in tha pensive up in professor trevolryz classroom. dumblydum wuz dere. "dumblydore I be thinkin I just kicked it wit u." I holla'd.

"oh yeah I rememba that." dumblydor holla'd, tryin ta be all goffik.

sinista came in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "hey dis is mah classroom wait wtf enoby what tha fuck da hell r u bustin?"

:"um." I looked at her muthafuckin ass.

"oh yeaH I forgot bout that."

"wth how?" I screamed forgettin her ass was a mackdaddy fo' a second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! but shes a goff so its ok.

professor sinsta looked sad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "um I was drankin voldemortserum." her ass started ta cry black tearz of depression. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. dumblydum didn't give a fuck bout them.

"hey r u bustin up like a biatch tearz of blood?" he axed curiously, tuchin a tear.

"fuck off!" our crazy-ass asses both holla'd n' dumblydum took his hand away.

professor sinsta started bustin up like a biatch again up in her chair, sobbin limpid tears. "omfg enoby?I be thinkin im buggin up on Voldemortserum."

 

[The Funslinger]

Spoiler: Behold... To Bust a Cap Up In a Mockingbird

To Bust a cap up in a Mockingbird

When he was nearly thirteen, mah brutha Jem gots his thugged-out arm badly broken all up in tha elbow.
When it healed, n' Jem?s fearz of never bein able ta play footbizzle was assuaged, he
was seldom self-conscious bout his crazy-ass muthafuckin injury yo. His left arm was somewhat shorter than his
right; when he stood and strutted, tha back of his hand was at muthafuckin right anglez ta his body, his
thumb parallel ta his cold-ass thigh yo. Dude couldn?t have cared less, so long as he could pass n'
punt.
When enough muthafuckin years had gone by ta enable our asses ta look back on them, our crazy-ass asses sometimes
discussed tha events leadin ta his thugged-out accident. I maintain dat tha Ewells started it all yo, but
Jem, whoz ass was four muthafuckin years mah senior, holla'd it started long before dat yo. Dude holla'd it fuckin started tha
summer Dill came ta us, when Dill first gave our asses tha idea of bustin Boo Radley come
out.
I holla'd if he wanted ta take a funky-ass broad view of tha thang, it straight-up fuckin started wit Andrew
Jackson. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. If General Jackson hadn?t run tha Creeks up tha creek, Semen Finch would
never have paddled up tha Alabama, n' where would our crazy-ass asses be if he hadn?t, biatch? Our thugged-out asses was far
too oldschool ta settle a argument wit a gangbangin' fist-fight, so our crazy-ass asses consulted Atticus. Our daddy holla'd our crazy-ass asses
were both right.
Bein Southerners, it was a source of shame ta some thugz of tha gang dat our crazy-ass asses
had no recorded izzlestors on either side of tha Battle of Hastings fo' realz. All our crazy-ass asses had was
Semen Finch, a gangbangin' fur-trappin apothecary from Cornwall whose piety was exceeded only
by his stinginess. In England, Semen was irritated by tha persecution of em whoz ass called
themselves Methodists all up in tha handz of they mo' liberal brethren, n' as Semen called
his dirty ass a Methodist, he hit dat shizzle his way across tha Atlantic ta Philadelphia, thence ta
Jamaica, thence ta Mobile, n' up tha Saint Stephens. Mindful of Jizzy Wesley?s
strictures on tha bust of nuff lyrics up in buyin n' pimpin, Semen done cooked up a pile practicin
medicine yo, but up in dis pursuit he was unaiiight lest he be tempted tha fuck into bustin what tha fuck he
knew was not fo' tha glory of Dogg, as tha puttin on of gold n' costly apparel. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So
Semen, havin forgotten his cold-ass mackdaddy?s dictum on tha possession of human chattels,
bought three slaves n' wit they aid established a cribstead on tha bankz of tha
Alabama River some forty milez above Saint Stephens yo. Dude returned ta Saint Stephens
only once, ta find a ho, n' wit her established a line dat ran high ta daughters.
Semen lived ta a impressive age n' took a dirt nap rich.
It was customary fo' tha pimps up in tha gang ta remain on Semen?s cribstead, Finch?s
Landing, n' make they livin from cotton. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da place was self-sufficient: modest up in
comparison wit tha empires around it, tha Landin nevertheless produced everythang
required ta sustain thuglife except ice, wheat flour, n' articlez of threadz, supplied by riverboats from Mobile.
Semen would have regarded wit impotent fury tha disturbizzle between tha Uptown n'
the South, as it left his fuckin lil' descendants stripped of everythang but they land, yet tha tradizzle
of livin on tha land remained unbroken until well tha fuck into tha twentieth century, when mah
father, Atticus Finch, went ta Montgomery ta read law, n' his fuckin lil'er brutha went ta
Boston ta study medicine. Their sista Alexandra was tha Finch whoz ass remained all up in tha
Landing: her ass hooked up a taciturn playa whoz ass spent most of his cold-ass time lyin up in a hammock by
the river wonderin if his cold-ass trot-lines was full.
When mah daddy was admitted ta tha bar, he returned ta Maycomb n' fuckin started his
practice. Maycomb, some twenty milez eastside of Finch?s Landing, was tha county seat of
Maycomb County fo' realz. Atticus?s crib up in tha courthouse contained lil mo' than a funky-ass basebizzle cap rack,
a spittoon, a cold-ass lil checkerboard n' a unsullied Code of Alabama yo. His first two clients was
the last two peeps hanged up in tha Maycomb County jail fo' realz. Atticus had urged em ta
accept tha state?s generositizzle up in allowin em ta plead Guilty ta second-degree cappin'
and escape wit they lives yo, but they was Haverfords, up in Maycomb County a name
synonymous wit jackass. Da Haverfordz had dispatched Maycomb?s leadin blacksmith up in a misunderstandin arisin from tha alleged wrongful detention of a mare,
were imprudent enough ta do it up in tha presence of three witnesses, n' insisted dat theson-of-a-biiiatch-had-it-coming-to-him was a phat enough defense fo' anybody. They
persisted up in pleadin Not Guilty ta first-degree murder, so there was not a god damn thang much
Atticus could do fo' his clients except be present at they departure, a occasion dat
was probably tha beginnin of mah father?s profound distaste fo' tha practice of criminal
law.
Durin his wild lil' first five muthafuckin years up in Maycomb, Atticus practiced economizzle mo' than anythang;
for nuff muthafuckin muthafuckin years thereafter he invested his wild lil' fuckin earnings up in his brutha?s ejaculation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Jizzy
Hale Finch was ten muthafuckin years lil'er than mah father, n' chose ta study medicine at a
time when cotton was not worth growing; but afta gettin Uncle Jack started, Atticus
derived a reasonable income from tha law yo. Dude dug Maycomb, he was Maycomb
County born n' bred; he knew his thugged-out lil' gangstas, they knew him, n' cuz of Semen
Finch?s industry, Atticus was related by blood and marriage ta nearly every last muthafuckin gang up in tha
town. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.

Maycomb was a oldschool hood yo, but it was a chillaxed oldschool hood when I first knew dat shit. In rainy
weather tha streets turned ta red slop; grass grew on tha sidestrutts, tha courthouse
sagged up in tha square. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somehow, it was hotter then: a funky-ass black dawg suffered on a summer?s
day; bony mulez hitched ta Hoover carts flicked flies up in tha swelterin shade of tha live
oaks on tha square. Men?s stiff collars wilted by nine up in tha morning. Ladies bathed
before noon, afta they three-o?clock naps, n' by nightfall was like soft teacakes wit
frostingz of sweat n' sweet talcum.
Muthafuckas moved slowly then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They ambled across tha square, shuffled up in n' outta tha
stores around it, took they time bout everythang fo' realz. A dizzle was twenty-four hours long but
seemed longer. There was no hurry, fo' there was nowhere ta go, not a god damn thang ta cop n' no
scrilla ta cop it with, not a god damn thang ta peep outside tha boundariez of Maycomb County. But it
was a time of vague optimizzle fo' a shitload of tha gangstas: Maycomb County had recently
been busted some lyrics ta dat it had not a god damn thang ta fear but fear itself.
Our thugged-out asses lived on tha main residential street up in town-Atticus, Jem n' I, plus Calpurnia our
cook. Jem n' I found our daddy satisfactory: he played wit us, read ta us, n' treated
us wit courteous detachment.
Calpurnia was somethang else again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was all anglez n' bones; her ass was
nearsighted; her ass squinted; her hand was wide as a funky-ass bed slat n' twice as hard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch was
always orderin mah crazy ass outta tha kitchen, askin mah crazy ass why I couldn?t behave as well as Jem
when her ass knew he was olda, n' callin mah crazy ass home when I wasn?t locked n loaded ta come. Our
battlez was epic n' one-sided. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Calpurnia always won, mainly cuz Atticus always
took her side. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch had been wit our asses eva since Jem was born, n' I had felt her
tyrannical presence as long as I could remember.
Our mutha took a dirt nap when I was two, so I never felt her absence. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was a Graham from
Montgomery; Atticus kicked it wit her when he was first elected ta tha state legislature yo. Dude was
middle-aged then, her ass was fifteen muthafuckin years his junior. Jem was tha thang of they first
year of marriage; four muthafuckin years later I was born, n' two muthafuckin years later our mutha took a dirt nap from a
sudden heart attack. They holla'd it ran up in her family. I did not miss her yo, but I be thinkin Jem did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!
Dude remembered her clearly, n' sometimes up in tha middle of a game he would sigh at
length, then go off n' play by his dirty ass behind tha car-house. When he was like that, I
knew mo' betta than ta bother his muthafuckin ass.
When I was almost six n' Jem was nearly ten, our summertime boundaries (within
callin distizzle of Calpurnia) was Mrs yo. Henry Lafayette Dubose?s doggy den two doors ta
the uptown of us, n' tha Radley Place three doors ta tha south. Our thugged-out asses was never tempted
to break them. Da Radley Place was inhabited by a unknown entitizzle tha mere
description of whom was enough ta make our asses behave fo' days on end; Mrs. Dubose was
plain hell.
That was tha summer Dill came ta us.

 

[Spambot 3000]

I like how it how it completely butchers song lyrics, this thing is great.
For example:

Spoiler

In tha hood where I was born,
Lived a playa whoz ass sailed ta sea,
And he busted some lyrics ta our assez of his fuckin life,
In tha land of submarines,

So our crazy-ass asses sailed on ta tha sun,
Till our crazy-ass asses found tha sea green,
And our crazy-ass asses lived beneath tha waves,
In our yellow submarine,

Our thugged-out asses all live up in a yellow submarine,
yellow submarine, yellow submarine,
Our thugged-out asses all live up in a yellow submarine,
yellow submarine, yellow submarine.

 

[LtFerret]

Genesis chapter 1: And Dogg holla'd, ?Let there be light,? n' boo-ya.. there was a shitload of weed.

Holy shizzle dis muthafuckin thang is phat

 

[Hagi]

It be a truth universally bigged up, dat a single playa up in possession of a phat fortune, must be up in want of a ho.

The epic opening line of Pride n' Prejudice.

Read it now:

http://www.gizoogle.net/index.php?search=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.gutenberg.org%2Ffiles%2F1342%2F1342-h%2F1342-h.htm&se=Gizoogle+Dis+Shiznit#link2HCH0001

 

[Colonel Mustard]

I just Hamlet's famous 'To Be or Not to Be' speech through that. Good god, that's amazing...

Spoiler

To be, and not ta be, dat is tha question:
Whether 'tis Nobla up in tha mind ta suffer
Da Slings n' Arrowz of outrageous Fortune,
Or ta take Arms against a Sea of shits,
And by opposin end them: ta die, ta chill
No more; n' by a chill, ta say our crazy-ass asses end
Da Heart-ache, n' tha thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to, biatch? 'Tis a cold-ass lil consummation
Devoutly ta be wished. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! To die ta chill,
To chill, perchizzle ta Dream; Aye, therez tha rub,
For up in dat chill of dirtnap, what tha fuck dreams may come,
When our crazy-ass asses have shuffled off dis mortal coil,
Must give our asses pause. Therez tha respect
That makes Calamitizzle of so long life:
For whoz ass would bear tha Whips n' Scornz of time,
Da Oppressorz wrong, tha proud manz Contumely,
Da pangz of despised Love, tha Law?s delay,
Da insolence of Office, n' tha Spurns
That patient merit of tha unworthy takes,
When he his dirty ass might his Quietus make
With a funky-ass bare Bodkin, biatch? Who would Fardels bear,
To grunt n' sweat under a weary life,
But dat tha dread of somethang afta dirtnap,
Da undiscovered Ghetto, from whose bourn
No Travella returns, Puzzlez tha will,
And makes our asses rather bear em ills our crazy-ass asses have,
Than fly ta others dat our crazy-ass asses know not of.
Thus Conscience do make Cowardz of our asses all,
And thus tha Natizzle hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o'er, wit tha pale cast of Thought,
And enterprisez of pimped out pitch n' moment,
With dis regard they Currents turn awry,
And lose tha name of Action. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soft you now,
Da fair Ophelia, biatch? Nymph, up in thy Orisons
Be all mah sins remembered.

 

[Liberaliter]

I used it on a Morrowind Fan Fiction I started writing... oh man. It improves it 100 time over.

"Destroyin our culture wit yo' damn Imperial towers n' soldiers aside, why tha sudden attention on tha bidnizz of assassinations?" Da Dunmer scoffed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da biatch once again found her muthafuckin ass weighin up her options. Either her ass refused ta say anythang n' gots her throat slit, and her ass answered his ass as dopest her ass could n' gave her muthafuckin ass a cold-ass lil chizzle ta turn tha tablez on tha Dunmer. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass."

 

[SadakoMoose]

I genuinely can't help but feel that this a bit racist...
What would a 19th century version of this website look like?
Probably something with Al Jolson...
Bamboogle?

 

[Xdeser2]

http://www.gizoogle.net/index.php?search=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.escapistmagazine.com%2Farticles%2Fview%2Fcolumns%2Fmoviebob%2F10159-The-Uncertain-Future&se=Gizoogle+Dis+Shiznit

Dear god....my life is complete xD

 

[Generalissimo]

humanity is awsome sometimes, this is pure, unadultered epic win on a silver platter. I LOVE IT

 

[SpoonyMcFork]

I feel as though I've gone back in time. I used to do this very thing with gizoogle in school 10 years ago.

 

[DrunkOnEstus]

For great justice...

http://gizoogle.net/tranzizzle.php?search=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.escapistmagazine.com%2Farticles%2Fview%2Fcolumns%2Fextra-punctuation%2F10143-The-Death-of-Mario&se=Go+Git+Dis+Shiznit

Apparently we all play "vizzlegames". I might be able to get on board with that...dawg.

 

[ClockworkPenguin]

For great justice...

http://gizoogle.net/tranzizzle.php?search=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.escapistmagazine.com%2Farticles%2Fview%2Fcolumns%2Fextra-punctuation%2F10143-The-Death-of-Mario&se=Go+Git+Dis+Shiznit

Apparently we all play "vizzlegames". I might be able to get on board with that...dawg.

I still read that in Yahtze's voice. Woke my flatmate up laughing. Well played sir.

 

[hazabaza1]

Holy fuck this is brilliant.
OP I love you.

 

[Dangit2019]

Season Three of MLP: FiM capped tha show

Yo ass wanna know why, biatch? Well:

-Mediocre two-part special wit a cold-ass lil crappy villain.

-No Raritizzle episode.

-A bullyin PSA.

-Not enough emphasis on thang like up in Seasons One n' Two.

-Da possibilitizzle dat Twilight will become a alicorn bizzatch.

Guess what, muthafucka! Strebiskunk's negatizzle propz of Magic Duel n' Keep Calm And Flutter On.
Da writaz of tha sheezy mo' betta git they acts together fo' Season Four. They know they gots a gangbangin' fanbase up in tha form of our asses bronies n' pegasisters. If any time tha sheezy is startin ta suck like muthafuckin right now, they should be listenin ta us--their fanbase--so dat they could fix any mistakes they've done cooked up up in Season Three so far.

Da reason why most other shows jump tha shark is simply cuz tha writas never dig they crews. Our Asses hustlas may not own tha muthafuckin rights ta em shows yo, but all up in tha same stupid-ass time our crazy-ass asses have as much say as ta what tha fuck should go up in em as tha writas themselves. This was why BioWare compensated fo' Mass Effect 3z terrible endin wit tha Extended Cut, n' it was also why Hasbro (the gangstas whoz ass did MLP) resurrected G1 Optimus Prime afta all of tha backlash toward Rodimus Prime. If Hasbro has no idea what tha fuck ta do wit MLP, they should turn ta crew feedback, just like they did regardin Optimus n' Rodimus, n' just like BioWare when they busted out tha Extended Cut endings ta Mass Effect 3.

It aint nuthin but not too late ta turn ta tha crew fo' help n' feedback. But, if they don't dig our asses bronies, our crazy-ass asses might as well move on ta somethang better, n' they'll lose a shitload of scrilla n' ratins fo' it up in tha process, which can be harmful ta them!

This is the greatest thing ever.