Just like the title states, what is your favorite poem?
Mine is London by William Blake.
I wander through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear:
How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening Church appals;
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.
But most through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.
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I actually found it from this song (that is based on it):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LIbIK6NSLNU
What is your favorite poem?
The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes
The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.
He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle--
His rapier hilt a-twinkle--
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened--his face was white and peaked--
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter--
The landlord's black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o'er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight
(O sweet black waves in the moonlight!),
And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching--
Marching--marching--
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window,
And Hell at one dark window,
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
"Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.
Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight--
Her musket shattered the moonlight--
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him--with her death.
He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway,
Down like a dog in the highway,
And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
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Will You Be There - Michael Jackson
This Part,...
In Our Darkest Hour
In My Deepest Despair
Will You Still Care?
Will You Be There?
In My Trials
And My Tripulations
Through Our Doubts
And Frustrations
In My Violence
In My Turbulence
Through My Fear
And My Confessions
In My Anguish And My Pain
Through My Joy
And My Sorrow
In The Promise Of
Another Tomorrow
I'll Never Let You Part
For You're Always
In My Heart.
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One of my favorites by William Buttler Yeats
From whence did all this fury come
From empty tombe or virgin womb
Saint Joseph thought the world would melt
But liked the way his finger smelt
There once was a man from Nantucket....
MOD EDIT: Watch the Language!
I have 2 actually
If
by Rudyard Kipling
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
The Cremation of Sam McGee
by Robert Service
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold, till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead — it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you, to cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows — Oh God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear, you'll let in the cold and storm —
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Nothing beats Jabberwocky:
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
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Love's Philosophy
Love's Philosophy - Percy Bysshe Shelley
The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In another's being mingle --
Why not I with thine?
See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower could be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea; --
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
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Shared by 2 as was a poem i sent my loved one...
my sis wrote this for me
Wat hs lyf taught me, numbr f things i din want 2 learn.
2 b on ma own,2 care 4 none
reality striked hard upon me
showed me wrld as hell 4 luv
doomed wid hatred as crown
i hd nothin 2 do bt 4 frown
me.. cry wid reality stingin hard on me
cry wid d changes witherin ...
Bt bad alwayz hs sumthin gud 2 show
sumthins u nvr xpct 2 be
god always hs his angels sent 2 ground
n here dey r 2 luk aftr thee
n wid 'u' ma dear bro
i believe he hs evn snt one 4 me.......
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits
On a lurgid bee
That mordiously hath bitled out
Its earted jurtles
Into a rancid festering [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts
And living glupules frart and slipulate
Like jowling meated liverslime
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes
And hooptiously drangle me
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon
See if I don't.
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by prostetnic vogon jeltz
thank you
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army
Related
It was a night unlike any other day,
I was standing on the edge of the cliff hugging the sunset - it kicked me in the head at about 40dB and asked me to leave her be so that she can finish her shift but alas, the moon stood her up.
I turned and walked in reverse. I fell. I fell again. I fell again. I was sick of falling so I got up when suddenly I felt myself surrounded. I felt right.
2 VR6 dogs, one brown, one left started negotiating with me a monologue and when they were done, they started running towards me with an ambition never seen that night. they worked on me for a few hours to think they're dogs. their work yielded my bones.
The cliff drew me towards itself. I pulled back but found it was charged with attractivity and i stayed hanging on it's lip. it screamed. I realized that David Copperfield is dead for a while now thus he cannot help me up.. and besides.. he's an asshole.
I grabbed the tongue of a mexican eggplant passing in its car at the same moment. assuming I prefered to stay alive, I decided to claim my innocence and ask the honorable eggplant to lift me up not foreseeing any dagner since an eggplant as all eggplants, is mute. Murphey decided to prove me wrong and the eggplant asked for a cigarette. to my surprise, I fell down.
Death was quick and insensitive, it cursed my existance in every possible way until i bled diet cola.
I returned to my home petit, and sprained my ankle. It hurt. As i sat to eat breakslow, my brain figured out that a mechanical catalogization of the day's happenings will certainly be preceived as a routine incident of prehistorical philanthropy and so, I will save the world. I sew a custome. returning to the cliff, I triple jumped from the cliff for inspiration but found that I am not strong enough as to flap my hands so to keep me in the air for more than a few moments and I banged my head on a sharp rock which calibrated its position to hit my brain a few moments before i landed.
A cornslice came out of an unhomogeneous door, stroke me a niner and lost itself to death.. poor corn.
spunked up, my decision to finish the day was fatal to my socks. I fell asleep to death.
I didnt know mescaline was still popular. I once puked whole sheets of plywood.
I was supposed to eat that pill? I gave it away as candy on halloween! I guess I live in a bad neighborhood so no harm done, right?
"There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a mod in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon."
..........
MMMMMMMMMMM.............weed...............mmmmmmmmmmmm
wOOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
CHOCOLATE RAIN!
i think nir is on crack today, or is it the studies
i actually followed evey word
it a whirlwind of emotion
mikechannon said:
I have to admit it is weirdly, madly deeply poetic. Certainly more than a walk on the embers of love with happiness obliterating the beacon of doom - well I think so anyway It reminds me of those heady days savouring the delights of that mushy wench, Psilosybin Mexicana.
Mike
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So you have visited and tested one of the Mexican deligths uh?
MMMMMMMMMM...................shrooms.....................mmmmmmmmmm
I don't use drugs. if in "shrooms" you are implying that i am
nir36 said:
I don't use drugs. if in "shrooms" you are implying that i am
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Don't worry, like most off topic's , I think the thread has left the OP behind.
ha ha shrooms
feeling totally left out as a teetotaler
it reminded me of a story be phillip k. **** (do andorids dream of electric sheep?, We can remember it for you wholesale, Minority report, paycheck)
i think its called The Story to End All Stories for Harlan Ellison’s Anthology Dangerous Visions and its from Volume V, The Little Black Box of his collected stories.
its basically about two he shes in space having a baby then fighting over it so one of them eats it up then they realise it was god
jayjay8585 said:
ha ha shrooms
feeling totally left out as a teetotaler
it reminded me of a story be phillip k. **** (do andorids dream of electric sheep?, We can remember it for you wholesale, Minority report, paycheck)
i think its called The Story to End All Stories for Harlan Ellison’s Anthology Dangerous Visions and its from Volume V, The Little Black Box of his collected stories.
its basically about two he shes in space having a baby then fighting over it so one of them eats it up then they realise it was god
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wow. I think i'm going to rewrite his story about that and post it here. sounds like a magical story.
I would like to recommend a few books.
- The man and the dildo, by ingmar booboofixer
- Walking on the moo, by someone who dislikes cows
- Garage Barage, by the US airforce
and
- Mixing up with the likes of thee - a story of brotherhood between sisters, by Horace Blackfont
The man and the dildo, by ingmar booboofixer
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a story of brotherhood between sisters
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Originally Posted by nir36 View Post
I don't use drugs. if in "shrooms" you are implying that i am
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.....
wth isent Quote's included in the 10chars limit?
Bah. I'm hurt. you are all assuming that such talent in writing idiotic, pointless things can only be done by being a junkie. OFFENDED is what i am. OFFENDED!
i dont
respect the mental mod massive!!!!
jayjay8585 said:
i dont
respect the mental mod massive!!!!
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what was the word i dont for
clearly you guys have gone crazier than I have. so to reclaim my insanitfy i'll post another story i wrote like 6 years ago.
The indian guy who didn't know why (biblical story)
it was 8:00 pm, and it was green
I leaped over to the window to watch a game of EarBall between 2eggplants who tried kick one another in the ear while the "babbit rabbit" ate one of them but the blinds were closed and I couldn't see anything.
I could not ignore the fact that by using an RPG you can just lift the blind and his sister but due the a short workday in radioactive cornflakes factory I gave up the sportive activity required to perform the action.
Even tho it was summer, it wasn't cold. on the contrary, i WAS cold. I went out to the garden to find a best viewing angle but the eggplants were already gone and "babbit rabbit" died from an epileptic siezure due to stamp overlicking.
I wore my underwear, went outside, and back in. I was sick of being inside all day so I came back in and went down to the attic to sort my collection of beans. one bean attacked me with a dropkick to the left brow but i managed to contain it by injecting 6 litres of cyanide to its left lobe. it screamed for help but there was no one there. Yossi died.
As i was sorting my beans by name, i felt a pat on my shoulder. I turned 360 degrees and saw exactly what i was seeing before. I thought that this might've been a defected calculation and maybe 520 more degrees are required... when suddenly, i saw it. a big head with nothing underneath was looking at me through glittering eyes with a huge nose, 2 eyebrows connected by a safety pin and 2 chin dimples.
the glittering eyes with the huge nose turned to me and asked: "who's boy are you?!"
I responded.
This was face traumatizing. since then, i do not go down to the attic anyless to sort beans by name - only by format (bean.exe.. and so forth)..
cartoon you ever saw as a child, and then look it at now and go---
"Boy...it still gives me the heebie jeebies!!!"
For me...it is the Purple Smurfs episode...
Remember that one episode when Lazy smurf begins to chop down a tree, he finds himself pestered by a purple fly who annoyingly circles around him, laughing. Lazy chases the purple fly off into the forest until he trips over a tree root, but after he gets up, he doesn't notice that the purple fly has secretly flown around him and is now behind him, looking at and zooming toward his tail. Lazy yelps in pain and looks to see that his tail is now throbbing, realizing that the purple fly had bit him. Then suddenly Lazy turns purple, and his mind goes blank as he now barks "gnap gnap gnap" and hops off into the forest.
Then everyone gets infected by biting on each other's tail..
Papa smurf finds a cure and as soon as he sprays one of them to cure them, comes a purple smurf to turn them back...
until the end even Papa smurf (the last blue smurf) becomes one--only to be saved by an explosion at his lab...
ScArY!!!!!!
I find the Tweenies scary and I'm 45! There's just something not right about them.
They look like a crossbreed of muppets and a bag of bald, spiky jelly beans...
That fly is kinda cool looking...
For me the scariest was Mumm Ra from Thundercats. Especially when he used to transform from out of that robe.
Second was Skeletor from He-Man.
I remember the cartoon "flying squirrel" and I don´t know what is the name in english of the bad guy, in spanish was "Boris Malosnof" and he was bad bad...
The one on the left
mikechannon said:
Off topic but when I was a kid there was a cartoon called Captain Pugwash for little kids:
It had characters called Master Bates and Seamen Stains. Now I know why I like to dress as a Pirate when I make love
Mike
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Don't forget Roger The Cabin Boy!
forget the name but think some cartoon movie with some testing animals escaping a Labrador which was forced to do how long can the dog swim tests and the likes
and some other dog
Anyone else here remember "The Brave Little Toaster"?
I like that movie now, but when I was a young child, that movie terrified me. Don't know what I'm talking about? Watch this video, and imagine you're an innocent 5 year old. Now wouldn't that terrify you?
Hello thought i'd put it all together to make it easier to read im still adding but feel free to help add to it
if you cant tell im bored :/ btw also added txt file if you want to add then re upload in []'s is extra info or bits i added to make sense in ()'s is things that were there but don't make much sense
Edit: quite offended by some of the iPad comments on here as im using my ipad for the story and pc for typing
The fat man ran twenty miles round and round until he fell and went to rehab for
falling then he got up and started to dance like a chinpanzee with a very very large
pen in his left pocket, then went to mexico where he dated a rather nice banana in
pinstripes who was suspiciously not what she wanted to eat.
Whilst that's happening far far away on a distant planet where the came back
from the plastic beach geting blown by a mexican guy using a very large thread
closing moderator who closed a very sticky situation.
"Get yourself into a mental rehab" Mcintyre was singing, to an iphone, then found XDA
whilst browsing porn and did stuff with his tiny girl friends hand which was also
another name for a transforming robot which has the power to transform and split into
a HUGELY big piece of junk, which is worthless. Sell it quickly otherwise it will be
an iPhone, then your buggered, unless you dance to the biggest rom chef here whilst
chugging some delicious apple juice, which you made trying to forget about your Apple
with a worm.
Her big headahe caused me agro deep inside my thought about going to get some new
super powers so i can fly to a place where stories end but they don't and continue to
be exruciatingly long when all i want is to smash an iphone over something realy a
work of art like WP7S.
Sink or swim like Captain Planet when he go crying like a dirty girl trying to find
a Golden HD2 party in vegas that had a funny thing attatched [PAGE 10] used for
blowing small little holes in walls and a train that stopped in the middle of the
intergalactic track which was littered with broken iphones which she always hated.
Dark cloudy skies only on Wednesdays or possibly Mondays when there is a spaceship
that used humans for thousands of years as an army to stop apple from taking over
Microsoft Windows Mobile because I love this amazing invention.
Chips glorious Chips wich i threw at your mum with a hot dog in a hallway and
slipped into ROM cooking frenzy but my device dropped into a pile of stinky rotting
apples which i'll eat after, whilst laughing at steve jobs who's such a smoking weed
dude who likes unicorns roasted with sauce on a shiny just washed underpant.
It's about time to watch 'The annoying Orange' advert thats should die very slowly
whilst creating non-lactoseintolerant cheese for his girl friend who likes things
bigger kind of like my big ego [PAGE 15] which also likes tobasco sauce on chilli
con carni and fish and chips in a house with no windows or any apples just palm and
android. Palm was bought by apple machintosh, a stupid brand who has milkshakes and
many cows.However, The cows like to smoke some candy ciggarets on the xda portal and
learn about how to ride starships into orbit whilst eating crispy Kentuck Fried
Chicken and then a big mac attack with fries and mcnugget grenades,whoppers, and
lemonade.
Meanwhile the starship crashed on steve Martin, not jobs, in the market on a sale.
Meanwhile the cockroach was singing with History Maker by Delirious and also with
post man pat, [who] squated and shat on the ipad, which was worse than a frickin
android and palm bad buisnes plan or better put Poop in a pan.
"4 Words bro" said Fallen Spartan laughing his head, Shooting the Armeter with her
hand and then jumped [PAGE 20] out of bed. What a voyage! What a Dream! to the other
side of the world through a wormhole chased the mole through the shoal of sweaty
clothes which then lead to the creation of the cyber phone which killed off
Steve jobs and Apple for good.
April fools day is the beggining to annoy people but its over, not next time because
the oldman died from non stop laughing of a joke about fishing boats and his desire
to feel free swimming in water [being] accused of man slaughter thinking why the
elephant ate a pink ribbon with a text in cuneiform script written in invisible,
about mac os4.0 and it's ability to crap without flushing the toilet and smell like
a decade old.
A new millennium with a giant appetite for apples didn't fill my pocket with lots.
Brush your teeth with a good and very brown chocolate mars bar that everyone hated
[PAGE 25]like an iphone, that people threw in the loo that was nasty just like poo
and like wee little green men [that] seem to run little leprachauns who are evil
No flights allowed due to ash and plane crashes which happened to no one any where.
How's this story going on untill now please advice, which i know makes no sence
but i don't involve myself in any meaningfull conversation [because it] would be
fruitless because he loved all the double posts [because it] help to increase
my post count so i can get 300 posts then get more, nothing to post because a
mod will make you cry for mama.(What the hell are we talking [about] in this thread?
(Simon posting crazy, pimple or boil?, for food or increased post count, no more
flashing, my eyes hurt so i need [to] go to specsavers and get a cool pair of Orsis
sunglasses, Please ban simon [PAGE 30] just because he is quadrupling his post count
haha)
(Feel like puking on this forum because it's something, something green yellow and
blue and that douche called me noobie as well all were once smoke to much simon
posts noncense he wont quit and keep posting read this post Please ban simon second
the motion y'all are mean we are not yes you are why you little amazingly handsome
person you wish buddy like the other no0b that went looking 4 a girlvery very
unlikley he gets love,in his dreams likley to be wet beond measure unless with a
rulerGramatical error encountered stop replying to "the frog went" [Nice try to
start the story again there by M_T_M ] everything i post no frog reply? whadaya
mean by frog)
"Anyway how are you doing today?" "I'm going to make out with your left hand"
also with my HD2 that i use for cooking dinner for my [PAGE 35] beautiful
HTC device.
Rock around the clock, 1 o'clock , no [it's] actualy 3, [oh wait] or maybe 4
when i went to kick (the) steve jobs because of his job trying to build a barbie
house out of iPad's on a piece of broken cardboard whichh happened to have a
HTC HD2 in it, [although] that was broken.
(i Hate braces by XDA forum)
Recieving a punch right at the nose of your very first wife "arhhhhhh~~!!!~!!"
she shout[ed] "pull it out" and kiss my three yellow zucchinis in my hand that i
punch[ed] you [with] in a private place leaving me unconcious because it's big.
(bad grammar again, btw afaic imnsho, speaking in tounges, with avatar accent)
Whilst texting friends from holy tree to a Wower ( Out of idea's hi mr.clown)
and Master Yoda, Shower he took in his pants, a dangerous weapon lurks waiting
for the use on (a hot laptop) an innocent person [and] an elderly woman
who was hot [PAGE 40] he then lol'ed at the age of 85.
Enjoy living in college, this big thing he found yesterday was round and long,
kind of smelly like a soccer ball, or baby even.
Keep her happy for 48 hours, (and) [also] the baby cried for candy that was
spicy and very sweet according to her tounge [which was] used for collecting
more samples, which enhances recreational activities during practice on
monday evenings, running around naked in his house.
(Dang your fast, your just old, but better looking, you wish @ , the age of
50 whilst im only 15 and good looking Beat that, bed ridden always, im sexy
and amazing and every one loves me, high on crack (obviously) and this old
, ignored by old)
The man mentioned in the OP is my bestfriend and also my dress is stained red
like those in my closet that look awful to me and (rock roll animal)
(a mi no me gusta rock musica) potatoes and goats.
[PAGE 45] like llamas and french calendar cookies who enjoy a good cup of
my new senior member memberness.
(that's cheating dude, that's completley right)
Once upon a time there was ( i like desire, i like me, sense made none
mocking you are, forgive me peace, i love u 2,)
Old school stuff is just a joke today from a clown who's named Bozo,
or Mr.Pennywise who makes funny jokes of lemons out of his list of
victims and People magazine [whilst] sharpening his knife [and]
gutting [a] big deer, thinking about stuff [like] the new iphone 4
(random iphone reference??) that was trashed by a gnome.
"Drink more beer" "Out of rum?"
(needs some posting, stop double postingn stop stopping me, you old man, why
i oughta)
Why don't you run like hell outa this website and [then] rush back because of
ORUD.
(whoever that is??, this still going??, amazingly yes continue,Anyway
where were we?, playing this game [PAGE 50], an ORUD is
obessesive Rom updating dissorder, game in overtime , or rolling ur dum butt,
that 3 plus,learn to count,Going party now, well deserved Orb,
arriving from party, welcome back orb.)
Nite, work tomorow,dance all night sleep
all day, Now @ work, i saw something /"\ hahaha, very mature indeed, and sometimes
childish, with some new direction of thinking, whil task 29 phone, when your strange,
strange what galaxys???, thats goors lyrics,obscure reference now, Nonsense funny
thread,)
Miliz is old (why you little) but wise enough to fry squirrels and eat them and
[then give] (gave) them to my hackintosh.
(yo quireo un Hackintosh,) one fine day,( with old men, what the hell, just happened
here?,) withh all this, insane music playin whilst vigrously touching a bald eagle
on a tree branch eating raw monkey flesh till [THE] (he) (grammatical error above)
teacher flunkeed (you) [him] whilst drinking something he doesnt like [PAGE 55]
Reserved for more
One more here
And one more to be safe (almost 200 pages in 4 posts if its completed
Baaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahhaahahahaaaaaaa
Well don Macarony!!! Keep it up
We can have a best seller with that story.
Mr. Clown said:
We can have a best seller with that story.
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
We should make a book out of it....i would buy it
Sent from my ADR6300 using XDA App
pretty f'n' funny.
good day.
hehe yeah publish it nd call it the story of off topic XDA or somthing better starting to some more just got back in
Update now got to page 50 !!!!
bracket () = junk
not mentioning names but it's mostly OG (guests i think), M_T_M and simon_WM just metioning
and were at 1585 words it could almost be a book and 8793 letters
(that might be incorect becaue ive tried 3 they all give me dif results )
Page 55
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
MacaronyMax said:
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
page 55 is the page where i first come in to the three word story!!!!
lol of topic a sec but how did you change your name ??
MacaronyMax said:
lol of topic a sec but how did you change your name ??
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
i contacted @mikechannon and asked him to do it for me!
Cool thanks
(Open for all stories)
Thread was originally created for Musicians, but TheSkinnyDrummer shot the ALL TRAVELS idea my way, so Thanks be to him. :thumbup::thumbup:
This is a place for all musicians and Travelers alike to tell their stories of life on the road. Both good and bad times. It doesn't really have to be TOUR stories (hereinafter referred to as "War Stories").
Get ready for some epic reading
I'll start by telling you guys one of my own..
My band and I (Tetrarch) had just gotten to New Jersey, when we got a phone call from Monte Conner (Big Wig @ Roadrunner Records). He wanted us to perform a show in Manhattan, NY for him specifically. Word had already spread to him of our tour, and he was highly interested in the band.
So we're all completely stoked that we just received a call from the man himself, and we leave New Jersey in a rush to get to NY and get a hotel close by the venue. Everything was going smooth until I sat there and realized as we got closer, that a 15 passenger van with a 9x16 trailer attached to back wasn't going to maneuver through NY very well. And to top it off, it was our bass player's first time ever driving a rig that big with that much equipment.
Well, we got to New York, and instantly started running into trouble. Everyone was out to get us it seemed. But none the less, we make it to our first destination, The Trash Bar in Brooklyn, NY. Played the show, left for the hotel room, again everything was fine. The next day, we get ready to head out for the big show, and when we got to the van, we noticed somebody had cut the padlock to the side door on the trailer. Of course, we was all pissed, but nothing was stolen. So we think the worst is over... NOPE!
We finally arrive at the venue, on a very busy one way street.. and Ryan decides to try to parallel park the van and trailer. The first few attempts weren't great and he had to circle around several times. In the mean time I'm standing there talking to Monte Conner, and as if all that wasn't bad enough, next thing you know... BLAM!!.. I look up, and I see that Ryan has took out the whole side of a parked car. I'm talking SMASHED that mofo. Then he decides to park the van and trailer 3 blocks from the venue.. Forcing us to walk back and forth to carry our equipment to the venue..
Monte laughed the entire time, Ryan flipped out, and the others we're almost in tears from shame. Luckily though, the people we hit turned out to be illegal immigrants, so the cops didn't come down on us. And Monte thought it was the best introduction from a band to date. . Unfortunately, we did have to repair the trailer, and caused a massive backup on the streets of NY
Many more stories to come guys, but in the mean time, let's hear some more great Tales of Travel :beer::thumbup:
Awesome idea, Axis! Thanks for posting this, I like this story telling opportunity to share music, experiences had while playing, and travel adventures. So, to tell my first one, back in March I visited Ireland. It was simply amazing. I had never really traveled outside the States for leisure, only for work, so I took the time to really take in all the sights, sounds, music, beer, conversation, etc., etc. I happened to hit the last half of my journey to Ireland in Dublin, on Saint Patrick's Day. Needless to say it was straight crazy. During those several days spent wandering the streets in Dublin, I came across many street performers. One of which I stopped for, and watched for quite a while. It was a duet of a bassist (which I happen to be one myself) and a guitarist/singer who were playing some really impromptu reggae music. It was awesome. I managed to pull out my Nikon to film a short clip of another street performer who "cut in" to spit some lyrics of his own, and the love and respect among these musicians was seen and felt by me and all others who saw. It was really quite great. Here's the shortened version of what I caught that day in Dublin -though I imagine that sort of thing happens all the time. It's just uncommon where I come from, so it struck me as being truly amazing:
Apex_Strider said:
Awesome idea, Axis! Thanks for posting this, I like this story telling opportunity to share music, experiences had while playing, and travel adventures. So, to tell my first one, back in March I visited Ireland. It was simply amazing. I had never really traveled outside the States for leisure, only for work, so I took the time to really take in all the sights, sounds, music, beer, conversation, etc., etc. I happened to hit the last half of my journey to Ireland in Dublin, on Saint Patrick's Day. Needless to say it was straight crazy. During those several days spent wandering the streets in Dublin, I came across many street performers. One of which I stopped for, and watched for quite a while. It was a duet of a bassist (which I happen to be one myself) and a guitarist/singer who were playing some really impromptu reggae music. It was awesome. I managed to pull out my Nikon to film a short clip of another street performer who "cut in" to spit some lyrics of his own, and the love and respect among these musicians was seen and felt by me and all others who saw. It was really quite great. Here's the shortened version of what I caught that day in Dublin -though I imagine that sort of thing happens all the time. It's just uncommon where I come from, so it struck me as being truly amazing:
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
Right on man. That was pretty cool. I'd like to see Luc Arbogast one time in person. He's the street performer that I showed you in your music sharing thread. And I still plan to go to that tattoo shop you recommended in Ireland, haven't forgotten
Thanks for sharing :beer::thumbup:
Sent from yours truly..
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Rush Chairman
Come on guys. I know more people have traveled at some point or another.
Share your stories people! :beer::beer::beer:
Axis_Drummer said:
Come on guys. I know more people have traveled at some point or another.
Share your stories people! :beer::beer::beer:
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
OP was tl;dr
Edit: I read it now.
I don't any music stories. Well, here's one:
My school band went to a competition, and we won.
Another one: My reed for clarinet cracked before a competition, so I
used one of my spare reads.
a.k.a. Urahara
The truth! I'm really a girl!
Jessica said:
OP was tl;dr
a.k.a. Urahara
The truth! I'm really a girl!
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
Don't be so lazy
You don't have to read it, just share your travel tales.
Sent from yours truly..
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Rush Chairman
Axis_Drummer said:
Don't be so lazy
You don't have to read it, just share your travel tales.
Sent from yours truly..
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Rush Chairman
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
I edited my post.
a.k.a. Urahara
The truth! I'm really a girl!
Jessica said:
I edited my post.
a.k.a. Urahara
The truth! I'm really a girl!
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
Lol they don't have to be about music. They can be from any trip you've taken.
I may just edit the title to just tales of travel. I figured this would surely get more hits
Sent from yours truly..
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Rush Chairman
Axis_Drummer said:
Lol they don't have to be about music. They can be from any trip you've taken.
I may just edit the title to just tales of travel. I figured this would surely get more hits
Sent from yours truly..
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Rush Chairman
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
Hm... Okay then.
One time I went to Canada(Quèbec) to my grandparents cabin. They own a small cabin right next to a lake. They also own part of the lake. I saw some bears. I went fishing. Oh! One time we were on a pontoon boat in the middle of the lake about an hour away from the cabin and ran out of gas. Then some dudes came by with a big boat and picked everybody up except for me and my grandma. I didn't go because I thought they were pirates.(This was back in 2003) I remembered thinking that they were all fools and were going to die.
a.k.a. Urahara
The truth! I'm really a girl!
Jessica said:
Hm... Okay then.
One time I went to Canada(Quèbec) to my grandparents cabin. They own a small cabin right next to a lake. They also own part of the lake. I saw some bears. I went fishing. Oh! One time we were on a pontoon boat in the middle of the lake about an hour away from the cabin and ran out of gas. Then some dudes came by with a big boat and picked everybody up except for me and my grandma. I didn't go because I thought they were pirates.(This was back in 2003) I remembered thinking that they were all fools and were going to die.
a.k.a. Urahara
The truth! I'm really a girl!
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
Lol that's funny.
Did you like Canada? I've been to Vancouver and Winnipeg. I enjoyed my time spent at those places
Sent from yours truly..
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Rush Chairman
Axis_Drummer said:
Lol that's funny.
Did you like Canada? I've been to Vancouver and Winnipeg. I enjoyed my time spent at those places
Sent from yours truly..
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Rush Chairman
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
Yeah, it was fun. We spent 2 weeks without tv, and spent the time swimming and fishing. Then we would eat the fish we caught for dinner everyday. We haven't gone there since 2005(we used to go every year) because of the money. I really miss going there.
a.k.a. Urahara
The truth! I'm really a girl!
Here's mine from a month I spent in Morocco in '08. Keep in mind I only knew/know the most rudimentary Arabic combined with a smidgen of French and Spanish.
First up was the landing at Marrakesh Menara Airport, the first shock to me was that instead of exiting through a bridge, we had to walk ~1/4 mile down the landing strip in the sweltering desert heat (I was still dressed for a Winter layover at JFK so this was even less bearable). Next was Moroccan customs, I was given two options, let them go through my baggage or pay a bribe of 80 dirham (roughly $10 at the time) so obviously I went with the bribe. With customs dealt with my next task was to secure a vehicle (of course there was no rental place at the airport). After a few awkward attempts to ask someone (anyone at all really) I managed to both locate a rental place and secure a rental ('05 Diesel Citroen, can't recall the model). With a vehicle and a general idea of where I was going I was on my way to the apartment in Agadir. After a couple hours of driving and a refuel (in liters no less) I was beginning to feel like I might be a natural at traveling, this is when I reached the Atlas Mountains (pictures of the roads at the bottom so you can picture this better). After about 15 minutes of the most cautious driving I've ever done a flatbed truck full of empty water bottles starts tailgating me and keeps trying to pass me on this one lane mountain road, he almost manages to pass me before swerving back into my lane to avoid a head on collision and clipping the rear of my rental and scaring me ****less. I pull as far off to the side as possible and am shocked to see him keep right on driving. After making a call to the local authorities and struggling to get around the language barrier I'm informed that as long as nobody is injured in a collision it's pretty standard practice to just go right back about your business. The rest of the trip went swimmingly but I'll probably never forget that ordeal..
Sorry for the wall of text, but if I tell a story, I try to tell it as accurately and detailed as I can recall.
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063_XOBX said:
Here's mine from a month I spent in Morocco in '08. Keep in mind I only knew/know the most rudimentary Arabic combined with a smidgen of French and Spanish.
First up was the landing at Marrakesh Menara Airport, the first shock to me was that instead of exiting through a bridge, we had to walk ~1/4 mile down the landing strip in the sweltering desert heat (I was still dressed for a Winter layover at JFK so this was even less bearable). Next was Moroccan customs, I was given two options, let them go through my baggage or pay a bribe of 80 dirham (roughly $10 at the time) so obviously I went with the bribe. With customs dealt with my next task was to secure a vehicle (of course there was no rental place at the airport). After a few awkward attempts to ask someone (anyone at all really) I managed to both locate a rental place and secure a rental ('05 Diesel Citroen, can't recall the model). With a vehicle and a general idea of where I was going I was on my way to the apartment in Agadir. After a couple hours of driving and a refuel (in liters no less) I was beginning to feel like I might be a natural at traveling, this is when I reached the Atlas Mountains (pictures of the roads at the bottom so you can picture this better). After about 15 minutes of the most cautious driving I've ever done a flatbed truck full of empty water bottles starts tailgating me and keeps trying to pass me on this one lane mountain road, he almost manages to pass me before swerving back into my lane to avoid a head on collision and clipping the rear of my rental and scaring me ****less. I pull as far off to the side as possible and am shocked to see him keep right on driving. After making a call to the local authorities and struggling to get around the language barrier I'm informed that as long as nobody is injured in a collision it's pretty standard practice to just go right back about your business. The rest of the trip went swimmingly but I'll probably never forget that ordeal..
Sorry for the wall of text, but if I tell a story, I try to tell it as accurately and detailed as I can recall.
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
Driving up that mountain would scare me. And that other driver was a jerk.
a.k.a. Urahara
The truth! I'm really a girl!
@Jessica: That's awesome. Hope you get to go back soon
@063_XOBX: That's interesting. A bribe fee for no luggage Check.. kind of blows my mind. And type whatever it takes to tell your story, the more detailed the better. :thumbup: Thanks for sharing.
Sent from yours truly..
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Rush Chairman
Axis_Drummer said:
@063_XOBX: That's interesting. A bribe fee for no luggage Check.. kind of blows my mind. And type whatever it takes to tell your story, the more detailed the better. :thumbup: Thanks for sharing.
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
The corruption in Morocco is unreal. Almost any non-violent offense is only a bribe (ranging from 5-50 USD and usually up for haggling) away from walking. I guess that comes with being one of the few monarchy's left.
063_XOBX said:
The corruption in Morocco is unreal. Almost any non-violent offense is only a bribe away from walking. I guess that comes with being one of the few monarchy's left.
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
That's crazy. You'd figure they care more for the population rather the cheap bribes. Some people :sly:
Sent from yours truly..
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Rush Chairman
Last year , I went for a holiday to Maldives and stayed at a resort called paradise island. I was pretty excited as the resort was situated on its own personal island! The beaches were awesome.
So I went for snorkelling in the morning at around 9. The reefs were awesome. Multi-coloured fish everywhere. Swimming all around me. But I saw this one fish. It was bright lime green in colour and completely stuck out from the others. I was very curious and wanted to get a closer look. I tried to follow it. But it was a clever little bugger. It lead me on a merry chase. I kept following it for a long time (though it didn't seem like it). The sea kept getting deeper till I couldn't see the bottom at all. I took little notice. I kept following... Soon, I lost the fish completely. I was kinda upset. Then it occurred to me that it must be late and I should probably return. I looked back and the sight was pretty scary. The 7 mile wide island looked the size of a thumbpin! Unknowingly, the sea currents had carried me very far. I was very scared as I was already exhausted and it looked like a long long swim back.
I started swimming. About halfway, I started getting the cramps. It felt like my calves and thighs were burning. Exhausted, I kept going.
Finally, I staggered onto the beach and into my room. I looked at the clock. It was 1. I had been away for 4 hours; though it seemed like a lot more.
I was completely drained, so I went to sleep.
I wrote up next morning at 7...sleeping for 18 straight hours.
I still consider it to be quite an experience.
Sorry for such a long story.
Here is a picture of mine in Maldives
@Kabir: Great Story! And that is why I hate the ocean. If you're not careful, something could easily happen.. I've been on 4 cruises and every time we hit the point of no land in sight, I'd instantly think of something crazy that could happen. I feel safer to fly than I do to be in the ocean.
Also, when I was in Hollywood, FL on tour, I went into the ocean and wasn't paying attention how far out I was drifting. When I realised it, I looked for my band mates ashore, and they were way down there almost out of sight. Luckily I can swim good and made it back to shore, but I had to walk a good distance to get back to where they was. That made me hate it even worse.
Sent from yours truly..
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Rush Chairman
A story I wrote, based on actual events:
Gentlemen, we are floating... around the edge.
“It was the Law of the Sea, they said. Civilization ends at the waterline. Beyond that, we all enter the food chain, and not always right at the top.”
“The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it, because the only people who really know where it is, are the ones who have gone over.”
~HST
We took a trip, long ago, that would serve purpose only to blur the distinction between a simple escape to the far perimeters of the world and completely losing our minds.
We (the four of us) were a mismatched assembly of the weird and rejected. The Admiral -fearless navigator of our Shuttle, the Scientist –the very rootless and sometimes witless refugee, the Salesman –a mildly dangerous commodity, and I were indeed pygmies lost in a maze of haze.
This is a true story…
Crystal Beach during spring break of the mid `90’s was a fraternal grass fire, sweeping through with the speed of a gale force wind, consuming all in its path with fury of drunken mayhem and debaucheries. Absolute chaos, an indescribable display of true cavemen behaviorism, a freak show that one could only participate in at great risk of becoming a burned out, salty mess.
Our story begins with four friends. We had been within mere miles of the edge of insanity before, but we would soon find ourselves at its very doorstep. No need to knock, it knows we are there.
A trip taken to the beach would firstly have a mandatory side step to supply the necessary illegal substances. The Red Sunshine -paper LSD, the grass, the doses of ecstasy that I had folded tightly in an envelope were gathered as we bid temporary farewell to our security of the Fort. We were ready for the experience of a lifetime, which should only be experienced once.
By the time we stocked up and began the trek down the interstate it had already become late in the early evening. Bowlfuls of Mexican dirt weed and obscenely loud crust-rock fueled our minds. I don’t remember speaking, but there was a conversation taking place that we all were in on.
We managed to drive to a hotel on the last frontier of civilization, for by morning we would be in the New World. The Admiral had us stay in the Shuttle as he convinced the night clerk behind the desk that he had need for a room for only one. It worked... for a short while. The idea was to save money, of which we had little of. I mean, who needs a wallet full of dough when your plans involve only baking your mind in the sun and maybe having a sandwich at some point along the way?
The clerk made us pay after finding out the falsification of the Admiral. I suppose we were neglecting to recognize the local noise ordinances. And in response to this evil bastard demanding money or threatening police intervention, the next morning the room would be all but destroyed. A mixture of cheese, mustard, and Rum-infused vomit would be smeared across every square foot of every surface in the room, mattresses and other furniture would be overturned and stood up as dominoes, drapes were clogging toilets, and carpets urinated on… a housekeeper’s unimaginable nightmare come horribly true.
That next morning the short jaunt to the island delivered us to an immediate array of collegiate spring breakers, jock douche bags, and hoochies all full of booze. We aimlessly drove around the island for a while to see where we wanted to set up camp. We asked around to see where the hot spots were, and every answer was pointing us to Crystal Beach.
We arrived at the ferry to take us there, and we dropped the acid. I also swallowed a dose of ecstasy. I recall watching the afternoon sun on the water as the gulls sweeping passed our heads in a mocking, perhaps warning fluidity, but didn't feel anything yet. Consequently, the Admiral suggested that we eat more acid. We all agreed to this and took at two more hits.
We drove on the beach for a while, checking out the scene, and I starting to feel oddly familiar to this place. The Admiral also began to feel the same, so he piloted the Shuttle to a nice spot for he and I to collect our bearings and try to sort out all of this madness for a while. We set up the tent and proceeded to watch it go, as it were.
Our neighbors, who happened to somehow befriend our motley crew, began offering us beer after beer. We certainly need not refuse, for this is their home field. We are merely the visitors, trying not to get on anyone's bad side. Subsequently, the alcohol enhanced the already escalating mind trip.
There was an endless parade of cars, trucks, sport utility party personnel carriers that lined the edge of the beach. Girls, some topless, would cantilever over tailgates and occupy sunroofs as the male wildebeests looked on in fancy. A non-stop carnival of cooks, drunks, chumps, and tits.
At one point I remember, as I was walking along the beach, jumping on the hood of a Honda and holding on as the driver ran circles through the sand. It seemed as though his only mission at that particular moment was to kill me. We were both laughing hysterically.
By now, the journey took a turn and began to reveal itself to us. People’s faces were no longer there. They had been replaced with oozing lights and sounds. The introspective of insanity was taking hold. I felt like I was surrounded by dumb beasts, prehistoric animals from a lost time, complete with huge bonfires and the primal chanting of savage cannibals.
It was time to retreat… back to the safety of the Shuttle. The Admiral had turned every dial, button, lever and switch to the on position. Windshield wipers frantically waving in front of us, as to say “Get out, while you still have your heads!” Primus, or Helmet, or the Butthole Surfers blasted from the speaker cones kept our thoughts on this needless disturbance.
We were sticking out like four sore thumbs; long hair, ‘alternative’ attire, piercings, punk mentality. At one point my only resolve was dunking my feet in a beer cooler filled with ice cold water. It was the only thing keeping me together. I had checked out…
I must have then blacked out. I remember waking inside the tent. The hot gulf sun had been heating the nylon like a convection oven. We were all so strung out and wasted that the Admiral determined it was time to flee. By the time we returned to the Fort it was again dark. Our diet had been drugs, Camel cigarettes, beer –did we ever eat…? We had been in a time warp.
But we recovered in due time. A trip to mental disaster was narrowly averted, this time.
…or was it?
ΧΔΑ Fraternity's Godfather. Read About Our History!
This is a place
To bring your face
And make up some rhyme
This is a place
Where, at a lyrical pace
We can all have a fun time!
I just felt like making a thread where we could all talk in rhyme.
And if any serious poetry does come out of it, all the better! :laugh:
Oh, and I do know that this is probably a BAD idea. -_-
Roses are pome
Violets are pome
I wrote a pome
pome pome pome pome
A pirate, history relates
Was scuffling with some of his mates
When he slipped on a cutlass
Which rendered him nutless
And practically useless on dates
There is a kind dolphin in me
With tight blue skin that you can't see
It moves smoothly like sparkling waves
And sound like a loud horn that can help save
Roses are bad
Violets are bad
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She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
- Lord Byron (LordManhatten's Grandfather!)
DirkGently said:
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
- Lord Byron (LordManhatten's Grandfather!)
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
:laugh::laugh::laugh::laugh:
Danial723 said:
Roses are bad
Violets are bad
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
Somuchwin.jpg
Danial723 said:
Roses are bad
Violets are bad
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
Your lulz were had,
But that made me sad.
Imma get mad
And beat ya up so bad!!!
Sent from my HTC Sensation on CM10.1
There was an old man from Japan,
Whose poems, just wouldn't scan,
When asked the reason why,
He'd always give the reply,
"I try to fit as many words into the last line as I possibly can."
Awesome idea :thumbup:
The only problem is : I can only write poetry in Arabic
Sent from my HTC Sensation Z710e using Tapatalk 2
If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you;*If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,*But make allowance for their doubting too:*If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,*Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,*Or being hated don't give way to hating,*And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;*If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;*If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,*If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster*And treat those two impostors just the same:.*If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken*Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,*Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,*And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;*If you can make one heap of all your winnings*And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,*And lose, and start again at your beginnings,*And never breathe a word about your loss:*If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew*To serve your turn long after they are gone,*And so hold on when there is nothing in you*Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"*If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,*Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,*If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,*If all men count with you, but none too much:If you can fill the unforgiving minute*With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,*Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,*And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling
---------- Post added at 07:12 PM ---------- Previous post was at 06:57 PM ----------
Lazy cut and paste i know, it's a better poem than "Mary had a little bike, she rode it back to front" which was going to be my first choice
“I've had great success being a total idiot. ”*―*Jerry Lewis
jugg1es said:
...Lazy cut and paste i know, it's a better poem than "Mary had a little bike, she rode it back to front" which was going to be my first choice
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
I'm no good at making rhymes,
My poems are less than sublime,
Yet still I post in this thread,
And revive it back from the dead.
It's nice to important, but it's more important to be nice.
"When I was a young man, I had liberty, but I did not see it. I had time, but I did not know it. And I had love, but I did not feel it. Many decades would pass before I understood the meaning of all three. And now, in the twilight of my life, this understanding has passed into contentment. Love, liberty, and time: once so disposable, are the fuels that drive me forward"
Twinkle Twinkle little star,
I've just found out what you are.
A lump of rusting rocket case,
A rubbish tip in outer space.
Spike Milligan
"Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana." - Groucho Marx
In the words of Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz:
"Oh freddled gruntbuggly thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
Groop I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes.
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!"
I could not have done any better myself!
stephj said:
In the words of Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz:
"Oh freddled gruntbuggly thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
Groop I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes.
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!"
I could not have done any better myself!
Click to expand...
Click to collapse
Ah... Jeltz... he was a Vogon before his time... *le sigh*
Ode to a Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Arm Pit One Mid-Summer Morning:
The sun creeps over the lands edge
Though the crack in the window it did wedge
Slowly brightening stinging my eye
as sleepily on my bed I lie
August sixth is the new day
Its in the summer half way
Stirring from my slumber I must arise
Must cloth myself and put on my guise
The sound of birds chirping through the air
Roosting and singing without a care
The sound of the lawn mower way far away
As the work men greet the brand new day
The smell of fresh cut grass intrudes
Sending me into wonderful moods
The smell of the fresh breeze moves the curtain
Its going to be a wonderful day , I'm Certain
On my bed i still here lie
I have to get up, yes I must try
Its so comfortable so soft and still
getting up is like climbing an insurmountable hill
I move my foot a little off the bed
Moving my arm slowly to the cots edge
Dropping my foot off and onto the floor
I rest before I do any more
Squiggling my butt to the edge nearer
Seeing my frame across in the mirror
To the floor I drop my other foot
The other hand on the edge I put
Raising my body to be upright
I raise my weight with all my might
in the mirror is my stout frame
Too much good food is the blame
Scraping my foot on the floor boards
Through the sea of cloths it fords
Finding at last one clean sock
My toes around its soft edge lock
Dragging it to me, I reach to the ground
Clasping on to the sock I found
Slipping it on to one of my smooth feet
I slide a little on my seat
I search again for another to put on
I find another that I soon don
Searching I find a pair of pants, mostly clean
With a newly repaired crotch seam
I find my undershirt in the cloths pile
I'm happy find my shirt and smile
Just then in my arm pit I itch
Its making my arm and body twitch
I reach for my arm pit deciding to scratch
When on to something smooth I latch
It felt soft and a little muddy
It turned out to be a green piece of putty
It was soft an somewhat sticky
It felt strange, kind of icky
When pushed on it slowly depressed
When I let go the dent sluggishly regressed
All together it was an unusual texture
I wondered what made up this green mixture
It looked so smooth and kind of glassy
yet in a way it was cloudy and waxy
Aside from the look it had a strange smell
What it smelt like was hard to tell
Kind of like sweat, kind of like perfume
it made an oder that filled the room
When pushed on it made a strange sound
As my finger rolled it around
It sounded kind of squeaky, kind of a smack
and kind of a pop when pulled and snapped back
Where did it come from this green dough
I couldn't imagine, I just didn't know
The waxiness and perfume, deodorant it could be
But that wasn't all , could some of it be me
Deodorant, dead skin, hair and some sweat
It all fused together in my arm pit I bet
Baking all night in the heat of my arm
Keeping it safe for any kind of harm
So in the morning I find the treasure
And how much joy I couldn't measure
I must set this aside and cherish it well
Despite its green color and it's terrible smell
Propping it on to an old golf tee
And into a jar so all could see
I raise it to an exalted place
So it could behold everyones face
Time now to put on my shoes
Where is the left one I always lose
There it is and in go my feet
The soft insole, what a treat
I put on my tee-shirt, then my shirt
It looked mostly clean except for some dirt
It was time for some breakfast, what shall I eat
Maybe eggs, toast, and some fried meat
I made up the bacon and the eggs I fried
Some toast, butter and jelly I tried
Cinnamon rolls I had, then some coffee cake
A whole bagel I toasted and ate
Juice and coffee I drank with pride
Till it made me full and feel good inside
Back to my putty, I liked not its place
I needed to find it a new kind of space
What a beautiful creation my arm pit made
I moved the jar and on to the table it laid
It made my soul leap that this I created
I needed a better display to have it mated
Something elaborate not just a jar
I would have to look for it near and far
Something with silver an a little gold
Something to display it so bold
At the door came a loud knock
Who could it be, I looked at the clock
Time for my maid service to arrive
She comes to clean up my cluttered dive
I shuffle to the door to let her in
I show her my putty and for it affection win
What praise would she have for my creation of green
She will be amazed as soon as its seen
I turn the door knob and open the door
It was her to clean a little bit more
I thought I'd wait till she cleaned up some
If I showed her now, distracted she'd become
She shoveled my cloths into the washer near
and washed all my dishes, she's such a dear
Sweeping and mopping around the whole place
Dusting every nook, cranny and every small space
She was nearly done when I told her the news
Of the thing I created while I did snooze
I could see a skeptical look crawl across her face
I lead her over to the sacred place
There sat my green putty, still amazing to me
On the table where all could see
She looked and squinted at its form
And asked me how it came to be born
I told her clearly how it came about
She promptly told me she'd throw it out
Her attitude gave me quite a shock
I thought about it and then I took stock
Jealous she was that she had not this putty
Jealous she was that she had not this buddy
She shook he head with a curse she left
I went over and slammed the door with all my heft
I stared at it till the middle of the day
As I walked by it I always looked its way
Remembering the joy it's birth did bring
I made me want to dance and sing
It was time for my midday meal
I started with the potatoes that I had to peel
Put them in a pot and bring to a boil
Then mash them and butter them with much toil
I wondered how the green putty tasted
But didn't try it, didn't want it to be wasted
Instead I opened up a tub of sour cream
Put it on the potatoes, what a dream
Deep fried cheese sticks for a side dish
Stuffed mushrooms filled with my wish
A slab of sausage adorned my plate
And my fine meal I sat and ate
For desert there was ice cream and some cake
and a box of brownie mix to stir and bake
While my brownies cooked in my stove
Into a piece of cheese cake my fork dove
Eating the last of the brownie pan
I opened up a cold beer can
Drank it up to my hearts content
I considered my putty with deep intent
I hear the barking of the neighbor's dog
Along comes the man who delivers through rain and fog
It's the Mailman bringing news from afar
In his white and blue car
Yes I'll show him my putty dear
He'll be excited and eager to hear
How my putty came into my arm pit today
And how it grew there while asleep I lay
I hear him approaching the black mail box
I waddled to the door and undid the locks
As he put the mail into its holder
I spoke aloud I tried to be bolder
I said come and see my putty so green
He was a skinny man limber and lean
He poked his head through the jam of the door
I said you'll want to look at this, you won't be sore
I showed him the green putty, I made in the night
I tried to control my pride, with all my might
He looked and said that he really didn't see
Why I should so happy about this putty be
He thought it a nuisance and said “send it away”
But he couldn't bend my resolve, he couldn't it sway
He didn't appreciate the creation of green
He is very shallow, so it would seem
So I sent him away telling him to forget
That on this day the green putty he met
Away from my door he quickly ran
He was a poor excuse for a postman
I must look for people who appreciate the unique
I'll look for intelligent people with which to speak
Not every one can appreciate my putty of green
Most people are prejudice it would clearly seem
Full of food I went out for a walk
meeting people so about my putty I could talk
Down to the shops looking for a display of gold
I found one suitable that the craft store sold
My green putty would look fine in this gold case
It was encircled with a fine looking silver lace
A window of fine glass like fine crystal
and mount it on a sparkling pedestal
I wonder if the world should see my putty dear
Or the tale of its creation should they hear
Would they appreciate putty's story
And hear about it in all its glory
Society is so quick now a days
And people walk around, as in a daze
Long gone is the willingness to hear
About great stories and things so dear
People are skeptical and soon to doubt
And if the story is long the begin to pout
“Hurry up” they say “get to the point”
And if your too long they get out of joint
People lack the patience needed
Unwilling with culture to have their mind seeded
They are unwilling to have goodness grow
Would they respect my miraculous dough?
So far the few I have shown my putty to
And shown my inner feelings true
They have been a jealous and uncultured lot
And haven't appreciated the wonder I have got
Will the rest of the world this way be
Or can they my putty's virtue see
Or will most scoff and mock its wonder
And call it a mistake, a serious blunder
Should the world accept my dough
Would their greed for it be my foe
Would they try to take it far from me
Would I my putty no longer see?
Or would the world reject my putty dear
And think it's creation rather queer
I think they lack the culture they need
And reject my putty and call it demon seed
I'll protect my putty from the world, evil
Protect it from any upheaval
I'll keep my dough to myself
And keep it safe on my shelf
I would like to show putty to my son
I think he would think it rather fun
But his mother, estranged to me
Won't let me my favored son see
He's like me in so many ways
And wishes to be with me, so he says
He would understand my putty dear
And gladly its life story hear
My son could appreciate the unique creation
He would approve toast with a libation
But his mother keeps him from me, unseen
At least until he is seventeen
So I'll be sure to write this story down
And when he's old enough he'll hear the sound,
Of a story about putty so dear
He won't upon hearing frown and jeer
Upon hearing the story he will wish he could
have this happen to him, I know he would.
He's the only one who can appreciate putty
He's the only one who could also be his buddy
My wife, on the other hand
My poetry, she couldn't stand
She lived with me for a few short years
And seemed to have a lot of tears
She said if she had known what our life was to be
She would have never paid the marriage license fee
But would have called off the wedding
And never would have touched my bedding
She never appreciated my poetic rhyme
And said so over and over many a time
She came from a family of and uncultured lot
And for poetry, appreciation they had not
So I'd never show her my putty true
For I know it's story, she would boo
I'll protect my putty from her wrath
Even if she thinks me daft
I began to wonder what our future together would hold
When all was accomplished and finally told
How my putty and I together would be
And our partnership together for all to see
Could we go traveling across the land
And on some high peak together stand
Visit some deep canyon or some black abyss
See the sights that we both wouldn't miss
My putty and I could cross the years
and toast the good life with many beers
We could seek to increase our poetic muse
and argue and debate and see others views
To the pub we could go so all could see
What my putty and I could turn out to be
Friends for life a companion though all
Even though some say its rather small
Small that he is, faithful would he be
I began to wonder if it were a he or a she
I've been calling it “it” for all this time
What gender would it have this, product of grime
At last I decided it was a unique creation
And not to give it a gender was a liberation
So “It” remains the gender I give
And believe to live and let live
Would this putty of green so dear
Live to see my final year
Would it go though all my life together
Or would one of us go first and our relationship sever
I would like this green to be my life long putty
But the future I see looks rather muddy
How long could a piece of putty hope to live
But every chance, every advantage I shall it give
I hurried back to my humble home
Eager to place my putty in the gold dome
My putty sagged on the golf tee stick
I rolled it and shaped it, it still looked sick
I should mount it in the display case
The one surrounded with the silver lace
But once inside it seemed to droop
like it was dissolving and turning to soup
I pressed it together but to no avail
A piece broke loose it looked like a tail
I worried if my putty would be alright
I won't lose it with out a great fight
I cooled it, froze it, but it looked worse for wear
I shaped it and rounded it as much as I dare
My putty was now drying and cracking apart
What to do? I had to be smart
Now the sun was setting, and what to do
I tried to think of ideas but only had two
First was to put it into a glass of water
It would be to much, my ball I'd slaughter
I thought it over while i fixed the evening meal
Saving my putty was to me a big deal
I fried up some chicken wings with Buffalo sauce
And ate the while I tried to prevent my loss
A slice or two of pizza left from another lunch
I sat and thought on it while I did munch
When I was through with the meal of the eve
I feared I'd loose my putty and I would grieve
As twilight came and the sun was set
An idea came and with my mind it met
to take the remains and put it in my other arm pit
and over night just let it simmer and sit
Now in the evening, time for my bath
I like to soak , make gurgling rhymes and laugh
But tonight I think I shall not scrub
For will conditions be right, if I enter the tub
For if I clean under my arm pit
will the putty bake and contently sit
if it be clean will it rejuvenate putty dear
or will it need sweat, dead skin and hair
Then again if I keep my pit out of the wet
Then conditions would be right to dampen with sweat
But what if I slip and accidentally clean
It might make my putty no longer seen
Should I chance to bath tonight again
Or should I put off cleanliness till who knows when
I shall put it off again once more
For I haven't bathed in days, it will be twenty four
So I guess I go to bed real soon
And rest myself in the rising of the moon
And hope my decision not to clean myself
Will not adversely affect my health
Time again for my nightly stop
To the restroom up the stairs, at the top
In the room sits a porcelain seat
I must go up and soon it meet
I'll have to soon take a crap
It takes so long I'll take a nap
Then I'll squeeze with all my soul
Look there, it's a telephone pole
Now off to bed I soon must go
And into my arm pit place the dough
I hope it will be alright in there
With deodorant, sweat, skin and hair
So I scraped the goo from the display
And into my other arm pit I let it lay
Off with my shirt and my tee shirt
Pressing my arm down till it hurt
Off with my socks and my pants taken off
I climbed into my sleeping loft
With the remains of my putty green
I hope it will revive, thats my dream
Off I sleep with a midnight snack
I hope excessive sweat I don't lack
I want my putty to come back again
Its cracks and dryness to heal and mend
I laid my head but had unsettled dreams
I guess it was a nightmare, so it seams
It was about my putty dear
And that I had had it about a year
In its dome it began to reproduce
and soon it got completely loose
It began to multiply very fast
I left my house in terror, at last
Putty was getting to big I fear
It was making growling noises I could hear
I was scared it would feed on me
And that I would no longer be
There was so much all over my house
There was no more room, not even for a mouse
It got into the sewer and down the tile
It plugged every drain all the while
Not a drain worked all over the town
Got into the water pipes all around
All the water stopped , everything went dry
I went about thirsty, heaving a big sigh
The town elders traces this blight back to me
And called a session of court, Me they wanted to see
Blaming me and my putty so dear
For all the confusion, and everyones fear
“lock him away for harboring such a menace”
“Give him some bread, water, and some lettuce”
“Starve him, chain him, let him lose weight”
“Sentence him to a Terrible fate”
They cast me into a dungeon full of goo
I seemed a familiar spirit, but who
It was green and sticky, like my green putty
Yes this was the reproduction of my green buddy
At first I feared it would eat me soon
As a beam of light lit the room
It twitched and wiggled in the cell so deep
It scared me so, I couldn't sleep
Then it covered me drew so near
It embraced me and thought me dear
It may have been a terror to all other
But thought of me as its mother
It slithered into the dungeon's door
Slipped into the keyhole pore
It jiggled and wiggled the door lock
I was worried and watched the clock
Then the door swung open to let me free
It oozed into the hall way as far as I could see
It smothered the guards and it lead me out
It went down their throats to prevent any shout
We fled into the heart of the town
We moved about not making a sound
I found myself something to eat
While every foe my putty was able to defeat
We would have to leave this urban scrawl
And go where we're not known at all
They wouldn't let us leave in peace
They would try to kill us or hurt us at least
They burnt putty out of every drain
And every pipe they did the same
Drying up every piece of goo
They'd keep working till they were through
The last of putty and I held up in a narrow place
His destruction I'd soon have to face
They would come soon with a wall of flame
His fate and mine would be the same
I hear them coming to destroy the rest
of putty's off spring in our secret nest
Out shot a flame of fire so red
putty screamed and I jumped out of bed
It was a nightmare in the heat of the night
And putty is still in my underarm suffering its plight
I drank a glass of water filled to the rim
And back to my bed and let my eyes dim
I tossed and turned the rest of the night
And for some sound sleep, I tried to fight
Was this dream foreboding for putty
Would I loose my green little buddy
In the morning it showed up true
That my putty was no longer new
It had died during the night
But I hadn't given up with out a fight
As you hear the sadness of this poem
and as you travel back to your home
don't gnaw your leg off with emotional pain
for compassion to all is the poets aim
Can we all die now, Grunthos Gently? :/
Sleepy! said:
Can we all die now, Grunthos Gently? :/
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I'm surprised you haven't already! :laugh: