RN
A joke that would pass unremarked in a pub is, on most of the internet, a content-policy event.
That is the single fact that shapes this entire corner of humour, and it is why an article about it that consists of thirty images is answering a question nobody has. The images are easy to find. What is not obvious — and what actually determines what you see — is the machinery deciding which of them reach you.
Two filters, not one
People talk about platforms banning things. In practice there are two separate mechanisms and they behave differently.
Removal is the visible one: the post comes down, the account gets a strike. It applies to a narrow band of material and it is appealable, at least nominally.
Suppression is the one that matters more. Nothing is removed. The post is simply shown to fewer people, or excluded from recommendations, or made unsearchable while remaining technically present. There is no notification and no appeal, because officially nothing happened.
Sexual humour sits almost entirely in the second category. It rarely qualifies for removal — a caption is not explicit material — but it reliably trips the classifiers that decide what gets amplified, because those classifiers work on keywords and image features rather than on intent, and a joke about sex looks identical to a keyword filter as a solicitation about sex.
What that does to the jokes
Suppression is a selection pressure, and the material has adapted to it in ways you can watch happening.
Text gets encoded. Deliberate misspellings, letters swapped for symbols, words split by punctuation, the whole vocabulary of substitutions that exists purely to be human-legible and machine-illegible. Some of it has been in use long enough that the substitutions themselves have become the joke.
The image carries the load. When the caption cannot say it, the setup moves into the picture and the text becomes an innocuous frame around it. This is why so much of the genre reads as oblique — that obliqueness is a workaround that turned into a style.
And the funniest material migrates off-platform fastest, because the things that make a joke land are exactly the things that make it detectable. What is left in mainstream feeds is the mildest tier, which is why people conclude the category is not funny and then find out otherwise the moment they look somewhere else.
Where it actually lives
Three kinds of place, each with a different failure mode.
Dedicated hosts built for this material have no moderation problem and therefore no adaptation. The humour is unencoded and often much better. The trade is that they are ad-heavy and the browsing experience is poor.
Forums and boards are where the format innovation happens, because a small audience that reposts nothing is what makes a new joke shape worth trying. They are also where the aggregators source everything a few days later.
Image and GIF archives are the searchable layer, and they are the only one of the three where you can reliably find something again. Everything else is a feed, and a feed is not a library.
Why the archive problem is worse here than anywhere
Memes have no stable identity. The same joke exists as a hundred re-encodes with different watermarks, no author, no date and no canonical version. There is nothing to search for — no title, no creator, no release. Add platform suppression removing the most-shared copies, and material from five years ago is genuinely hard to retrieve even when you remember it exactly.
Which is the honest reason there is no gallery here. A list of thirty images from a particular year is not a reference to anything; it is a snapshot of what one person had open, and it stops being retrievable almost immediately.
Where to look
The directory maintains sections for funny porn sites, GIF archives and NSFW Reddit communities — the third being where new formats appear first and the second being where you can actually find something twice.