67

Born in the streets of Philadelphia, 67 entered this world as a throwaway ad-lib in Skrilla's "Doot Doot"—a reference to 67th Street that nobody outside the city was supposed to understand. The internet, as it does, had other plans.

By January 2025, the two-syllable incantation had escaped containment. Basketball edits featuring LaMelo Ball (who stands 6'7") gave it legs. A blonde-haired child dubbed "the 67 Kid" gave it a face. The accompanying hand gesture—palms up, see-sawing like a confused shrug—gave it a body. Soon everyone from AAU players to UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer was doing the motion, the latter proving definitively that no meme survives contact with world leaders.

The peak came hard and fast. Schools banned the gesture. Google added an Easter egg. South Park did an episode. And then, in late October 2025, Dictionary.com delivered the killing blow: "67" was named Word of the Year. Nothing says "your meme is dead" quite like institutional recognition.

But 67's greatest legacy wasn't the gesture itself. When a well-meaning dad attempted to perform the hand motion for his children—only to be met with the withering judgment that only teens can deliver—he realized there was nowhere to check which memes were officially dead. So he built this graveyard.

You're reading it now.

Spawned imitators—41, 93, 61—but none captured the original's inexplicable energy. The gesture lives on in muscle memory, performed ironically by people who forgot why they started.

Six. Seven. Rest in peace, patient zero.