Okay, this year I'm going to post the letters as an on-going thing...As soon as I've heard from any given recipient that they have read their letter, I will post it here. This saves on letters getting lost, duplicates, etc.
I don't mind if people post in this thread, but if a significant conversation develops, I will split it out.
Also, I will eventually get everyone on the list, starting with people who bought an MSY this year, followed by people who responded to my last mailing, followed by people who didn't. The people inside each catagory will be dealt with in a random order.
Okay, here goes.
So far:
Mailed:
Phox (received)
CPD (received & replied)
Nigel (received & replied)
LMNO (received & replied)
Iason (recieved)
Squiddy (received & replied)
Charley Brown (received & Replied)
Twiddington (received & replied)
Cainad (received)
James SemaJ --->?
BDS (received)
Jenne (received)
Cramulus (received)
Khara (received)
Alty (received)
Eve (received)
Hovercat (received)
In the mail tomorrow morning:
Suu
EoC
Dear Doktor Phox,
I hope this letter finds you well in that horrible little one-horse town you call home.
I say I hope, but I fear the worst. When I lived in Illinois, Zeigler was second only to Morris in hushed tales of degeneracy and depravity. To hear folks tell it, you all have webbed fingers & toes, and no trucks stop there. No, truck drivers have heard too many tales of gnawed bones & strange rites. Rumor has it that the post office uses robots to deliver the mail, because they can't recruit postman as fast as they are eaten. Horrible, horrible.
My advice to you is to haul up stakes and run. Head for civilization, preferably in a state in which they have not heard of your peoples' excesses (Which leaves out most of the Midwest.). Don't tell anyone that you're going, of course, as the whole situation will turn into something out of a bad Scifi station horror movie, in which 30-somethings play 20 year-olds, and everything ends badly.
I would suggest Tucson, as we are a clean-living, upright people, but the altitude is too thin for you here, and your skin - being used to swamps & mire - would cook right off in minutes...Just another sad victim of the merciless sun that scours clean to the bone any mold or fungus infections that low-land swampers bring with them.
And that's really a shame, as we can use all the help we can get, here. Bloated WalMart pigs run loose here, and run good men down like dogs, for no reason. One minute, you're walking across the parking lot to the bookstore, then BAM! You're flat as a pancake as the offending behemoth rides on, unnoticing and uncaring, on their Rascal scooter. The best you can do is grab for their oxygen bottle, and maybe take the bastard with you.
Other than that, it's a wonderful city, where the meth-heads stack their victims neatly in dumpsters and the police cry in their whiskey for 6 hours after each shift...Where the pitiless sun dries the shit of coyotes (and people) into a fine powder in less than a day, and every time the wind blows, you breathe it.
Tucson, they say, is like the surface of Mercury...Hot as hell, a million miles from anywhere, and if you inhale, you die.
But we don't let that sort of nonsense stop us. No. Neither thin, poisonous air nor teabaggers on mobility scooters faze us. We understand Doom, and we bray our laughter and our spittle in their blank, uncomprehending faces. It is a century of Horror™, and we have enough Vaseline and shrink wrap for everybody. Doom is no excuse to stop The Party™, and thus we stagger through The City, loaded on bourbon and odd plants that grow nowhere else. We are rock n rollers, and we know nothing of despair.
In fact, we may be the last rock n rollers on this side of the Rocky Mountains. California has forgotten the face of rock, and the Northwest is a horrible den of hipsters and neo-hippies. They don't understand, you see, how things are managed downtown. How things get done. They used to know, decades ago, when Grace Slick sang at The Matrix, telling her acid-addled stories to kids who just wanted to get all fucked up and dance all night, no matter how ugly and sinister things got in the "real" world.
But those days are gone now, save for the occasional dinosaur still staggering around in tie-die and bellbottoms. They are a sad breed, who mistook the style for the substance, thinking that if they freeze themselves in amber, and continue looking like Jerry Garcia, that they won't eventually die of old age.
That just leaves us in Tucson...We can't be bothered with style, we can't be concerned with being cool. There's no time for that. There's work to be done, jamming down back alleys in a smashed up Jeep with a head full of bad wiring and a back seat full of angry, angry women with whiskey in their blood and mayhem on their minds, blasting The Rolling Stones Gimme Shelter and looking for a fight.
If you could choose a life, wouldn't that be it? Getting your monkey on in strange & terrible ways, irresponsible firearm handling, and no thought of tomorrow? We are the last frontier, and sitting in front of the tube eating Cheetohs ain't exactly a home on the range. It's too hot for that shit, and we have a desperate desire for change.
Obviously, I don't mean The Smiler's idea of change. You and I both know that for the cynical pandering it is. No, the change we mean is that little tin gods may eventually come to understand that we won't be pushed, that we understand "I WILL KILL A MOTHERFUCKER" and "LOOK OUT, MISTER, DOK HAS A CHAINSAW".
Vroom, vroom! Look at 'em run! It's party time in Tucson, so get your trip pants-wearing, pierced cranium arse off of MY street. Move your asses, you drones and hipsters, emotards and scene kiddies, you useless hipsters and U of A trustafarians! I have a full tank of gas in this thing, and you were warned about this shit...You were told that your useless whimpering killed James Brown, and that I would be back for a terrible revenge. Now I've gone all Chainsaw Billy, and it's too late to say you're sorry.
If any of these people loved me, Doktor Phox, they'd all kill themselves today.
Okay for now,
Dok
FUCK YEAH.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD on June 09, 2011, 08:37:33 PM
FUCK YEAH.
My rule this year is 2 printed pages, minimum, 3 letters a week.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on June 09, 2011, 08:49:56 PM
Quote from: LMNO, PhD on June 09, 2011, 08:37:33 PM
FUCK YEAH.
My rule this year is 2 printed pages, minimum, 3 letters a week.
I admire your dedication in spreading your
HolinessTM around. You, sir, are a saint. Of what, I'm not sure. But a saint none-the-less.
I, uh, have something PLANNED for my next letter to you, Oh Roger Dear. :D
*innocent smile fooling no one*
I'm kinda hoping you mail yourself. Don't forget the air holes.
Nigel and LMNO came up in the randomizer today.
Letters go in the mail tomorrow morning.
:omg:
My address might change before you get to the end. If I show up, let me know and I'll tell you the correct address.
That makes me laugh every time. Awesome stuff, Roger, and true at that. :lulz:
Ok-I want to take part this year, if possible.
PM coming soon with addie.
So far:
Mailed early this week:
Phox (received)
CPD
Mailed this morning:
Nigel
LMNO
Going in the mail tomorrow:
Iason
Squiddy
Ah, fuck. I totally forgot to respond to my letter.
/me goes digging...
Found it! Planning response now... Better late than never, right?
I need to buy stamps. I should do that.
:lulz: The boyfriend and the girlfriend are somewhat traumatized by the letter. I can't get them to read MSY 1. But I'll keep spreading the HolyTM anyway.
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 12, 2011, 07:52:46 PM
:lulz: The boyfriend and the girlfriend are somewhat traumatized by the letter. I can't get them to read MSY 1. But I'll keep spreading the HolyTM anyway.
I'll post the letter here, tomorrow, now that you've had a chance to read it first.
A reply shall be coming forthwith.
Dear CDP,
Enclosed you will find one copy of Millions of Screaming Yahoos, Vol I. This is the product of 6 months of badgering a flaky first-time artist, and endless squabbling afterward. It seems Kim found out that being an artist is work, and has discontinued her end of the project, electing instead to pursue an exciting career in the field of "couch-surfing at a friend's house until her fat ass bonds with the couch". I wish her well in her new endeavor. The next issue isn't looking good, either...The artist is 14 months overdue, and I've just about given up. I shall have to find someone else.
Thing is, an artist has to be his or her own slave-driver, and to compete they have to have a page drawn and inked per day. This isn't easy, but nothing you can make a living at is. In any case, "Pent" from the board is drawing my other project, Tales From Fat Ernie's, which should be done sometime in the fall, and concerns odd happenings in rural Maine.
I'm doing that story in Maine, because I need a break from Tucson. Don't get me wrong - I love The City & will never leave it - but imagining weird shit in Maine is a nice break from scribing shit that actually happens here. Every day, fresh fears are written on Horror's scrolls, and sooner or later, everyone needs a break.
Being from the land of rotten peaches, I am sure you understand precisely what I am talking about. I spent quite some time in Georgia in the 80s and 90s, and it is a terrible land, full of chiggers and mosquitoes and Georgians. It resembles nothing so much as Florida, had Florida been passed through a wine press and then had winos poop in it. History does not record it, but rumor says that Abe Lincoln, that hideous old pervert, was willing to let Georgia secede, had they done so on their own.
This isn't a surprise. Lincoln was a nasty old reprobate. He was dirty and filthy and infested with fleas, and he took his women by twos and by threes.
Wait, scratch that. Where do I come up with such horrible lies? Lincoln was a clean living, religious man...Except at the theater, where his incessant heckling eventually led to an outraged actor shooting him in the head, just to get him to cease his pterodactyl-like shrieking from his balcony box. "Sic Semper Smartass", Mr Booth cried, then jumped out of the box and broke his leg. He somehow escaped the scene despite that broken leg, which implies that at least most of the audience approved of his silencing of the filthy old jackass.
Whoops. I had meant to discuss Georgia, and here we are haring after a dead president. In any case, I advise you - as your spiritual adviser - to flee Georgia at the first opportunity, and haul ass up to Toronto, where deviants like you are accepted. They like Pagans up there, or so I am told, as they're mostly quiet folk who hardly ever sacrifice the neighbor's pets. Also, it's cold in Toronto, which should keep the patchouli-stink to an acceptable minimum.
Should you decide to do so, make sure you look up Hoopla and Nurse Rhizome when you get there. Hoops is a pretty good guy, even if he does photoshop fuck books for a living (You didn't think those models look like that in real life, do you? No. It is his job to cover up the hideous VD scabs and unexplained lesions that these men and women are covered in. I, for one, consider this to be a public service.), and Nurse Rhizome is a charming young lady who beats up Toronto police officers whenever she and her gang of layabout artists can find one alone.
Those unemployed artists are the worst, you know. When they're not kicking the mortal shit out of police officers, they're hanging out at the craft shop and menacing little old ladies who just want to get their needlepoint supplies.
In any case, you will need their help settling in, even if just to teach you the highway system. It looks simple, but if you make the wrong interchange, you wind up on their toll road, and it costs $2000 Canadian (Or $3 American) to get off. There's a line of cars near the exit, full of the skeletons of unfortunates who didn't have correct change.
Don't let them talk you into going to The Expo, though. It's basically what you'd get if you crossed The World's Fair & Coney Island, and it is inhabited by indigenous Jamaicans and refugees from Nappanee, either of which will stab you just to watch you bleed. They're a rough bunch up there in Canada, so you always have to be prepared. I suggest a garbage can lid as a shield and a cattle prod. These will come in handy in their taxi cabs, as well.
Canada: It's the nearest thing to heaven that you'll find on this Earth, I tell you.
At least for people like you and I. We are rock n rollers, and we know that it isn't easy having a good time. That you sometimes work your ass off for your cheap kicks. That you have to concentrate on the party, lest you be distracted by the petty authority types that will always be with us, no matter how many condoms we sell.
You know what? Forget everything I said about Canada. Move your arse to Tucson, and we can go hunting teabaggers in Tempe. There's no bag limit, and the game is thick on the ground. You can bag a 600 pounder every time you drive up there. The only dangerous parts are getting past Picacho township, and accidentally shooting the teabaggers in the oxygen bottle, which causes them to explode like that beached whale in California. That's what helmets are for.
Okay for now,
Dok
Also, I'm updating the OP with who's getting each day's letters.
That last one was amazing :mittens:
Quote from: Triple Zero on June 13, 2011, 06:31:09 PM
That last one was amazing :mittens:
The one I wrote for Squiddy (not shown yet) is the most horrible thing I've ever written.
LMNO,
I have to get out of this damn city. They know me here, now, and they are wise to my ways. Obviously, this isn't a good thing. I am unwelcome everywhere from the Calvinist Church to the public library to The Bashful Bandit (the sorriest dive in Tucson), for a series of misunderstandings that are too ticklish to describe.
Well, at least I still have the perverts to hang out with.
Looking back on it, I should have stayed in South Filth, where my behavior is – if not normal – tolerated. Hell, the neighbor to the South of me has moved across the subdivision, citing our lack of Christian values, and the home owners' association jams letters under my door 3 days a week. There's no fucking end to it, Lex, the geeks have finally worn me down.
The obvious solution would be to get out of town for a while, but being the maintenance chief makes getting a vacation approved akin to pulling my boss's teeth. He screams and howls and thrashes around a lot, and eventually I just give up and leave his office. He, too, seems to be wise to me.
No, instead, I shall have to settle for revenge. Ban ME from the library, will they? I'll show THEM, Alex...I'll show them all. I shall be an avatar of the 21st century, jamming my head through their front windows, saying "HI!", with a silly grin and my pants full of horror. Everyone, after all, needs some horror in their pants...You should try it. It makes your coworkers act all funny, and is very good for the nerves and the digestion.
Just absorb that mental picture for a minute.
Anyway, enough of the good news. I hear you spags are getting drowned by shitty weather...We have the opposite problem. Summer has finally arrived, in all its crushing glory. It's well over a hundred, no humidity at all, and the state has become so dry that the mesquite trees are turning into gunpowder. Throw a butt out the window, and 20 blocks go up in flame.
So many blocks, so few cigars. Oh, well, I shall simply have to rely on the malice and/or stupidity of others to pick up my slack. Fortunately, malice and stupidity are present in quantities that can only be described as "alarming". Hell, after some hippie group suggested restricting fireworks sales until the rains come, the state legislature has made it illegal to restrict fireworks in any way. I am checking to see if this could be stretched to include dynamite.
So, our new state motto is "Nothing is true; everything is on fire". Hell, The City is already wreathed in smoke from the 20-odd wildfires already raging from Phoenix to New Mexico...Add the stupidity above, and the place will look like something out of Dante's Infero. Frankly, I'm kind of looking forward to it.
With a state government like that, who needs terrorists? We'll leave them to the East coast, where you have something approaching a functional government.
It's awful, Lex. Mayor Walkup has been seen drunkenly roaming The City at all hours, and all the cops I know spend most evenings sobbing over their whiskey. Some say they simply lack the right sense of humor for The City...Nothing works here, so you'd assume they'd get used to it. Hell, we just spent $2.1 million bucks on new trolleys for the legal district, but they got the wheels wrong, and they keep derailing. Also, they can't make it up the hill between 4th Ave and the legal district, and they keep jamming up traffic. Even the homeless people are laughing about that, and they never laugh.
Even the Mormons are surly. I had to put my shoulder into one of them the other day, when he announced that I WAS going to listen to him. He tripped as he stumbled backward, and cursed me out (being cursed out without profanity is more amusing than you'd think...I shall have to develop that skill). The traffic cop nearby just laughed a nasty laugh and went back to screaming obscenities at all the cars that were ignoring him. So, okay, maybe it's not all bad.
Incidentally, there is a SLIM possibility that I might get out to Providence in September. This time, though, you must come down to Providence...There's a certain hipster bar there that needs punishing. I believe I've already related that particular horror show, but if not, know only that one of the never-ending series of trustafarians that got on stage covered a John Meyer tune. Who the hell does that? John Meyer ruins other peoples' songs. The rest was a sorry collection of ukulele playing bastards that should all be fed into a chipper feet first, except for the singer in Jesse's band, who is apparently the reincarnation of Hank Williams, Sr.
Yes, we shall drink shitty whiskey and heckle hipsters, and try our best to get out of the area before we get arrested. If jails in Providence are anything like jails in upstate NY, we'd best be quick on our feet. If you bring the wife along, you won't have to explain a thing, and she and Jenn (Nurse Enabler) can pretend they've never met us before, as we go tearing off into the night.
You may consider that going a wee bit too far over some unwashed hipsters, but trust your spiritual adviser on this one, Lex...This sort of thing has to be taken to the wall. You can't give these bastards any slack at all, or they'll walk all over you in their deliberately torn up sneakers.
Besides, you can't tell me you don't sit at your desk every day, daydreaming about mayhem and shouting and running away down the alleys. I know these things.
If, however, we go to England instead, which is fairly likely, I shall send a request for bail money. Apparently those Peelers can run like the fucking wind, and are not shy with the nightstick. No worries, they don't use real money there.
Okay for now,
Dok
When I read "nothing is true; everything is on fire", I shat myself with laughter.
Response forthcoming.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD on June 14, 2011, 01:03:55 PM
When I read "nothing is true; everything is on fire", I shat myself with laughter.
Response forthcoming.
:lulz: :lulz: :lulz:
It's all true, Roger, and there is no hope. But it's still legal to own pigs and guns, and I could explain about the car doors but you don't want to know. No, you really don't, even though it is even more banal than you might be imagining.
Dear Nigel,
I trust this letter finds you as well as can be expected, given the downturn in business and all the myriad other issues you are facing. You've held up like a champ.
No problems to report, here, for a given value of "problems". Other than the state burning to the ground (we now have 20 wildfires going, two of which are threatening main power transmission lines), that is.
And is that really a problem? Not for me. I sit on my mountain and giggle up at the idiots who live in Summerhaven, a community for the rich, built smack in the middle of Coronado State Park...Also known as the Catalina Mountains, particularly Mount Lemmon. It seems that money can get you anything in this state, including a gated community in the best part of a state park.
It can't, however, buy you enough water to stop a wildfire 1200 feet above the nearest pumping station. Run, piggies, run! These are the same people who write angry letters to the editor, hollering about how climate change is a liberal myth...Despite the fact that we've had just an inch of rain in the last 7 months. My heart is pumping purple piss for them, to the sound of badly-tuned violins in my head.
The Book of Isaiah had something to say about pigfuckers like these, as did Edgar Allan Poe, in The Masque of the Red Death.
The rest of Tucson, of course, doesn't give a shit. It is what it's always been, and the pimps and pushers and petty thieves have no time for dwelling on the fate of fools. There is money to be made, you see. Business, the American Way™. And who can blame them? They do nothing that America™ doesn't do, just on a much smaller scale.
On that note, you missed a wonderful evening at the Meetrack last Saturday. It seems there was some sort of convention of perverts & criminals, and Enabler and I met some very interesting people. Knuckles had come along (you really need to meet him), and was utterly freaked out...It was a hoot. Here's this hardened ex-con, scared shitless by the fact that he was surrounded by homosexuals and body perverts. No matter how much bourbon we poured down him, he wouldn't come out of his corner chair.
He is, however, a champ when it comes to trolling Pagans in the park. Instead of hollering abuse at them, as I expected, he kept trying to join in whatever ridiculous ritual they were engaged in. Apparently, it broke the mood, and the Pagans left before they finished "casting a circle", or whatever it was. With any luck at all, that means whatever they came to summon will eat them all in their sleep, one fine night.
Hey, a man can dream, right?
If it's not the wingnuts, it's the Pagans. If it's not the Pagan's, it's our state congress. Despite the fire issues I mentioned above - or, to be precise, because of them, our congress has seen fit to proclaim that fireworks are constitutionally protected, and can be used anywhere and everywhere, as the public sees fit.
I expect parts of Tucson and all of Phoenix/Tempe to burn down, between July 1st and 5th. I won't miss those fuckers up North, but there are parts of Tucson I like, and the idea of some pig-ignorant po'bucker burning the whole East side down does not please me.
The reason they pass stupid laws like this - they also passed a law making it illegal for counties and towns to pass laws against texting while driving, no shit - is that the right wing knobends that run our state have decided that if anyone they consider left of center proposes something for the public good, they will pass laws to the contrary. This has actually been said out loud by Rep Pearson (the guy who wrote the anti-brown folks bill), who is basically the left half of Governor Brewer's brain (Sheriff Arpeio is the right half).
In essence, our state personifies Poe's Law.
But what can you do? I mean, I know you have a good supply of stupid people in Portland, too...And you can't get rid of them, no matter how many condoms you sell. From what I gather, though, your idiots are more of the neo-hippie, blissed-out loveburger type, who also can't seem to just lead their own lives and leave everyone else the hell alone.
Examples:
An adult may not show a minor any piece of classical artwork which depicts sexual excitement. Whether or not the adult is the parent, showing a Rubens painting to a 17 year old son or whatever.
A door on a car may not be left open longer than is necessary. (WTF?)
Dishes must drip dry (I shit you not).
And the champ:
It is illegal to whisper "dirty" things in your lover's ear during sex.
These are all real laws in Oregon, and all of them originated in Portland. What the HELL is going on up there, Kalera? Straighten this shit out. It's starting to sound like Texas up there. Enough fucking around.
Okay for now,
Dok
Quote from: Your Mom on June 14, 2011, 05:19:14 PM
It's all true, Roger, and there is no hope. But it's still legal to own pigs and guns, and I could explain about the car doors but you don't want to know. No, you really don't, even though it is even more banal than you might be imagining.
Oh, this I GOTTA hear.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on June 14, 2011, 05:35:44 PM
Quote from: Your Mom on June 14, 2011, 05:19:14 PM
It's all true, Roger, and there is no hope. But it's still legal to own pigs and guns, and I could explain about the car doors but you don't want to know. No, you really don't, even though it is even more banal than you might be imagining.
Oh, this I GOTTA hear.
OK... when I said banal, I REALLY MEANT BANAL.
People leave their car doors open, and then other people (who are probably high as fuck) drive into them. That's it. The streets are really narrow, and there's no room.
Quote from: Your Mom on June 14, 2011, 06:22:40 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on June 14, 2011, 05:35:44 PM
Quote from: Your Mom on June 14, 2011, 05:19:14 PM
It's all true, Roger, and there is no hope. But it's still legal to own pigs and guns, and I could explain about the car doors but you don't want to know. No, you really don't, even though it is even more banal than you might be imagining.
Oh, this I GOTTA hear.
OK... when I said banal, I REALLY MEANT BANAL.
People leave their car doors open, and then other people (who are probably high as fuck) drive into them. That's it. The streets are really narrow, and there's no room.
I thought it might be something like that. :lulz:
Ever see that happen? It's almost as fun as heaving a brick through a plate glass window.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on June 14, 2011, 06:24:09 PM
Quote from: Your Mom on June 14, 2011, 06:22:40 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on June 14, 2011, 05:35:44 PM
Quote from: Your Mom on June 14, 2011, 05:19:14 PM
It's all true, Roger, and there is no hope. But it's still legal to own pigs and guns, and I could explain about the car doors but you don't want to know. No, you really don't, even though it is even more banal than you might be imagining.
Oh, this I GOTTA hear.
OK... when I said banal, I REALLY MEANT BANAL.
People leave their car doors open, and then other people (who are probably high as fuck) drive into them. That's it. The streets are really narrow, and there's no room.
I thought it might be something like that. :lulz:
Ever see that happen? It's almost as fun as heaving a brick through a plate glass window.
YES it's epic! I had no idea car doors would just COME OFF like that. Also the look on the face of the chick in the car... PRICELESS. :lulz:
Quote from: LMNO, PhD on June 14, 2011, 01:03:55 PM
When I read "nothing is true; everything is on fire", I shat myself with laughter.
Response forthcoming.
I think that may be my new motto.
The boyfriend dropped my reply into the mailbox after he dropped me off at work today, Roger. EET EESE ENROUTE.
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 15, 2011, 01:27:22 AM
Quote from: LMNO, PhD on June 14, 2011, 01:03:55 PM
When I read "nothing is true; everything is on fire", I shat myself with laughter.
Response forthcoming.
I think that may be my new motto.
The boyfriend dropped my reply into the mailbox after he dropped me off at work today, Roger. EET EESE ENROUTE.
Outstanding.
Dear Doktor Squid,
I'd like to congratulate you on your self-restraint when exposed to those Belgians. I know you Southern-types are genetically predisposed to shoot foreigners, so I was pleasantly surprised to learn that they escaped your clutches unharmed (at least physically)...Especially given the dire consequences of such restraint.
As legend has it, the last Southerner to let a foreigner go was one Bubba-Joe Dixon, who in a drunken haze had polite conversation with a Frenchman, and allowed him to leave unmolested. Poor Bubba was haunted into his grave by the ghost of Jefferson Davis, who kept appearing behind him every time he looked in a mirror. Unable to shave, Bubba eventually was asphyxiated by his own sideburns, which grew around his neck.
Horrible, horrible.
But we are learned folks, Doktor Squid, and we put no stock in such mummery. We know that ghosts don't really exist, and therefore do not haunt mirrors. Giant insects in the toilet, maybe, but certainly no ghosts in reflective surfaces.
We also know that cities aren't haunted, even if they are built on thick stacks of bones. Tucson, for example, may SEEM haunted, but that's just because there's so much Dumb here. We have so much Dumb, in fact, that we have begun to bottle it and ship it to teabaggers all over the country, in hopes of revitalizing their flagging demonstration turn-outs. No worries, though, as Dumb is an infinite resource, and more flows down from Phoenix just as fast as we can bottle it.
We've found that if we DON'T export some of it, even the police start texting while driving, and the city council makes enormous blunders, such as buying new trolleys that don't actually fit on the tracks quite right, and result in horrible accidents. No fatalities yet, but I have faith.
Speaking of which, how are you guys doing down there? You need any bottles of Dumb? We're practically giving it away, here. For a low, low price, you too can have a governor like Jan Brewer, and people who faithfully signal left before making a right turn. Oddly enough, the population doesn't seem to shrink, no matter how many horrible fatalities result from driving while on this stuff. We have it in 5 gallon pails and 55 gallon drums, ready for your order.
Who are we?
And if that doesn't interest you, sell us your husband. We have need of subjects for some new SCIENCE we want to try out. Our credit is good. We have sold many pairs of shattered panties on E-Bay, and we're floating in cash. There's a better than average chance you'll get him back, though not in "factory condition". Especially if he struggles (after the infamous "pink glove" incident, we have taken to feeding the subjects pre-roofied beer).
And when he returns, he will be the model husband, compliant in every way, though you may need to put a ball gag in his mouth(s), as he may occasionally scream every five fucking minutes in his sleep every night. All new attachments should fall off on their own within two weeks or so, and if they don't, why we'll just send Nurse Fracture and Nurse Enabler down with the extraction tools and some gauze.
And there's no charge for the extra orifices and/or cranial piercings. Give me a ring, and we'll arrange all the details. Act now, this is a limited time offer (as our procedure may or may not be legislated when the nosy tards up in Phoenix start wondering where all the sideshow freaks are coming from.).
It is very difficult to explain the frustrations of attempting SCIENCE in a state run by religious whackjobs who don't understand the scientific process, who don't realize that it is sometimes necessary to propel chinchillas into traffic. Did anybody bitch at Schroedinger when he might have killed some cats in that box of his? They should have looked in the box a minute early, by the way, to see if they could catch the universe cheating, red-handed. They never listen. It pains me.
And did anyone complain when Albert Einstein used bunny rabbits to prove that matter and energy were the same thing? No, we were a hardier people then, and exploded rabbits didn't get people all riled up. If he tried that today, he'd be up to his arse in screaming hippies and PETA freaks.
This country is going to the dogs, I tell ya. When an honest scientist can't go about his business doing SCIENCE to things, you know we're sliding back into the mud. Well, I warned you all, and now you'll be at the mercy of the teabaggers, who want your kids to understand that chemistry works because Baby Jesus says so, and that a god intentionally designed us like this.
You never hear of the Chinese having problems like this, and they do SCIENCE to people every damn day...And we call ourselves a "free people".
Well, that's enough ranting. Box your husband up (do NOT forget the air holes, that's really important), and ship him to my return address. Nurse Fracture has a particularly interesting new implant that she wants to try out, that will allow your husband to listen to Clay Aiken twenty-four hours/day. The possibilities are staggering. The defense department is going to be all over this shit, for when they do SCIENCE to people at Camp X-Ray...And, soon enough, in a town near you!
Okay for now,
Dok
PS: Also, if you send him bulk rate, you'll want to throw in a 4 pound bag of dog food and a couple of gallon jugs of water. The post office here is not precisely the model of alacrity, and if he shows up dead, we won't honor the invoice.
Dear Horrible Pokey Thing of Forbidden Knowledge,
I hope you and Terry are well, and recovering from the horrible afflictions that you both have been suffering from. I say this for I, too, am afflicted...Or so I am told. My new neighbors are moving to the other side of the subdivision, citing odd howling and bloodcurdling shrieks at all hours. It is worth noting that they have no children, so it may be assumed that they're doin' it wrong.
Back when we were kids, Charley, you never heard complaints like this. We all lived in the forest, and nobody lived anywhere else, so we had to learn to get along, learn to accept each others' eccentricities for the mere human foibles they were.
But no more. Now if there's a ghastly series of screams at 2 AM, they gossip & call the police. The police, of course, are never happy to call on my house, as the door usually opens to reveal the results of SCIENCE being done on someone (Yours truly, normally). You try to explain, but they just look disgusted and stagger back to their squad car, retching warnings about noise violations.
Sometimes I try to get them to look into the neighbor's barking-ass chihuahuas, but they just call me names and leave.
My local police, it seems, are just not serious about having a good time. They are not aware that behind every great man is a woman with an enormous, electrical strap-on. Well, to hell with them...They may not approve of innovative new uses for alcohol, but there is at the moment no law against this sort of thing, so let them scramble back into their cars and screech away, obstensibly to answer another call...But we know better, you and I. They are lesser men, and Ben Franklin & Lenny Bruce would kick their arses and leave them on the pavement as an example to others.
The whole town of Oro Valley is like this. Why, just last week, my daughter was hurling dog shit over the cliff onto the golf course, and some bloated jackass walking his dogs called her a "stupid bitch". My daughter laughed, of course, and pointed out to the man that one of his dogs was at that very moment crapping on the fairway. Then she flung a particularly large chunk of love his way. He dodged, and threatened to kick her ass. She just laughed and pointed out that his fat ass wasn't coming up that cliff, and that was he able to manage it, why that would be a 50 year old man trying to get at a 15 year old girl. She explained the perverts' list, and the fact that we are armed like Fort Knox.
He swore at her some more, which just set her laughing harder, as she used her phone to take pics of his dog shitting on the fairway. He left, and hasn't said a word to any of us, on any of his daily walks through the golf course.
See what I mean? They just don't have it in them, Charley. They just don't have the mud in their eye or the sand in their craw for this sort of business. It's revolting, I tell you. This ain't America, and America™ won't make the nut.
They are pigfuckers one and all, Charley, and they have forgotten the faces of Hank & Johnny...If they ever knew them. Hank & Johnny understood that having a good time was really the point of it all. They sang about it, but very few listened.
And now they listen to sad-sack shit by bands like "Aphex Twin" and "My Chemical Romance", and they cower when the police draw near. Instead of "I WILL KILL A MOTHERFUCKER", they say "Please leave me alone with my misery".
Well, we're not here to leave them alone, are we? No, Charley, as the official resident Horrible Old Men, it is our job to remind them that Saturday Night means more than yet another marathon X-Box session. It is our job to remind them that, yeah, bourbon only makes things worse, but that's how things are done, here. How things are managed, downtown,
This is in fact how we take it to THE WALL. Cheap booze, rock n roll, irresponsible handling of firearms, and unnatural acts with our significant other(s), or anyone else who wanders within arm's reach.
We have no time for politics, because there's no such thing, anymore. There are two collections of howler monkeys, screeching the exact same policies past each other.
GAH! This coffee tastes like ass! It tastes like it was run through a fucking cow first. The new guy is going to have to do a lot better than this awful shit, or it's going to be rough for him. Telling ya, it's fucking intolerable.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah...You and I, Charley, are anachronisms. Just two hideous old men that understood the Wild West, and the way things were supposed to be. We are dinosaurs, surrounded by monkeys with a built-in failure circuit. It is up to us to set the example for others, by being ourselves until they gun us down like dogs for no good reason.
I mean, was either one of us born to die in bed? Hell, no. We were meant to go down guns blazing, just two against hundreds of Federales and US Marshalls, having been finally tracked down for crimes that the newspapers won't publish, not even the tabloids. The editors will just look all sick inside and tell their staff to leave it be, for the good of the nation, to merely report that the insane old bastards are finally done for.
It's what John "Anything for a Laugh" Dillinger would do, had he been given the chance to get old. Beats the hell out of "assisted living", anyhow.
Okay for now,
Dok
Oh Fuck Yeah. Love that one to Hawk. :D Hee hee. He must've loved it.
Quote from: Jenne on June 20, 2011, 02:51:36 PM
Oh Fuck Yeah. Love that one to Hawk. :D Hee hee. He must've loved it.
Oh! He did!
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
:lulz:
Also, everyone remember that I am updating the list in the OP. Today, I'm writing to BDS and Jenne. I would have done it already, but this "weekend" has been a bitch.
Sounds like you didn't get a weekend, Dude. :( That sucks. :(
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Oh my god. Can you fathom what whoever opened it thought when s/he read that letter? There is some poor idiot curled in the fetal position and frothing at the mouth, trying to make sense of that letter.
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 20, 2011, 07:31:12 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Oh my god. Can you fathom what whoever opened it thought when s/he read that letter? There is some poor idiot curled in the fetal position and frothing at the mouth, trying to make sense of that letter.
Serves the nosy bastards right. :lulz:
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 07:39:17 PM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 20, 2011, 07:31:12 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Oh my god. Can you fathom what whoever opened it thought when s/he read that letter? There is some poor idiot curled in the fetal position and frothing at the mouth, trying to make sense of that letter.
Serves the nosy bastards right. :lulz:
:lulz:
I hope they open the response as well.
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:43:30 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 07:39:17 PM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 20, 2011, 07:31:12 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Oh my god. Can you fathom what whoever opened it thought when s/he read that letter? There is some poor idiot curled in the fetal position and frothing at the mouth, trying to make sense of that letter.
Serves the nosy bastards right. :lulz:
:lulz:
I hope they open the response as well.
Possibility: I am using crappy envelopes, that require a bit of scotch tape to keep closed. Some bored geek at the post office may have found that suspicious.
Drat. Now my cocaine-smuggling operation is ruined. RUINED!
I could have smuggled as much as a twentieth of an ounce per letter!
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 08:46:09 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:43:30 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 07:39:17 PM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 20, 2011, 07:31:12 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Oh my god. Can you fathom what whoever opened it thought when s/he read that letter? There is some poor idiot curled in the fetal position and frothing at the mouth, trying to make sense of that letter.
Serves the nosy bastards right. :lulz:
:lulz:
I hope they open the response as well.
Possibility: I am using crappy envelopes, that require a bit of scotch tape to keep closed. Some bored geek at the post office may have found that suspicious.
Drat. Now my cocaine-smuggling operation is ruined. RUINED!
I could have smuggled as much as a twentieth of an ounce per letter!
:lulz:
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:53:49 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 08:46:09 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:43:30 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 07:39:17 PM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 20, 2011, 07:31:12 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Oh my god. Can you fathom what whoever opened it thought when s/he read that letter? There is some poor idiot curled in the fetal position and frothing at the mouth, trying to make sense of that letter.
Serves the nosy bastards right. :lulz:
:lulz:
I hope they open the response as well.
Possibility: I am using crappy envelopes, that require a bit of scotch tape to keep closed. Some bored geek at the post office may have found that suspicious.
Drat. Now my cocaine-smuggling operation is ruined. RUINED!
I could have smuggled as much as a twentieth of an ounce per letter!
:lulz:
You could try printing a small letterhead on the front of the envelope, saying "The Giggles Foundation". The nosy fuckers wouldn't open it then. :vom:
Quote from: BadBeast on June 20, 2011, 10:24:06 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:53:49 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 08:46:09 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:43:30 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 07:39:17 PM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 20, 2011, 07:31:12 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Oh my god. Can you fathom what whoever opened it thought when s/he read that letter? There is some poor idiot curled in the fetal position and frothing at the mouth, trying to make sense of that letter.
Serves the nosy bastards right. :lulz:
:lulz:
I hope they open the response as well.
Possibility: I am using crappy envelopes, that require a bit of scotch tape to keep closed. Some bored geek at the post office may have found that suspicious.
Drat. Now my cocaine-smuggling operation is ruined. RUINED!
I could have smuggled as much as a twentieth of an ounce per letter!
:lulz:
You could try printing a small letterhead on the front of the envelope, saying "The Giggles Foundation". The nosy fuckers wouldn't open it then. :vom:
Well... Not TWICE, anyway.
Until I'd been here a little while, I was unaware of GIGGLES.
Then I was... I'm not sure "enlightened" is the right word, here...
Quote from: Luna on June 20, 2011, 11:03:30 PM
Quote from: BadBeast on June 20, 2011, 10:24:06 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:53:49 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 08:46:09 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:43:30 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 07:39:17 PM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 20, 2011, 07:31:12 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Oh my god. Can you fathom what whoever opened it thought when s/he read that letter? There is some poor idiot curled in the fetal position and frothing at the mouth, trying to make sense of that letter.
Serves the nosy bastards right. :lulz:
:lulz:
I hope they open the response as well.
Possibility: I am using crappy envelopes, that require a bit of scotch tape to keep closed. Some bored geek at the post office may have found that suspicious.
Drat. Now my cocaine-smuggling operation is ruined. RUINED!
I could have smuggled as much as a twentieth of an ounce per letter!
:lulz:
You could try printing a small letterhead on the front of the envelope, saying "The Giggles Foundation". The nosy fuckers wouldn't open it then. :vom:
Well... Not TWICE, anyway.
Until I'd been here a little while, I was unaware of GIGGLES.
Then I was... I'm not sure "enlightened" is the right word, here...
I'm beginning to think 'enlightened' is a euphemism for 'traumatized'.
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 20, 2011, 11:18:59 PM
Quote from: Luna on June 20, 2011, 11:03:30 PM
Quote from: BadBeast on June 20, 2011, 10:24:06 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:53:49 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 08:46:09 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:43:30 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 07:39:17 PM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 20, 2011, 07:31:12 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Oh my god. Can you fathom what whoever opened it thought when s/he read that letter? There is some poor idiot curled in the fetal position and frothing at the mouth, trying to make sense of that letter.
Serves the nosy bastards right. :lulz:
:lulz:
I hope they open the response as well.
Possibility: I am using crappy envelopes, that require a bit of scotch tape to keep closed. Some bored geek at the post office may have found that suspicious.
Drat. Now my cocaine-smuggling operation is ruined. RUINED!
I could have smuggled as much as a twentieth of an ounce per letter!
:lulz:
You could try printing a small letterhead on the front of the envelope, saying "The Giggles Foundation". The nosy fuckers wouldn't open it then. :vom:
Well... Not TWICE, anyway.
Until I'd been here a little while, I was unaware of GIGGLES.
Then I was... I'm not sure "enlightened" is the right word, here...
I'm beginning to think 'enlightened' is a euphemism for 'euthanized'.
Fixxored.
LMNO, I got your reply, and I have two things to say:
1. THEY GOT HIM!!!! :horrormirth:
and
2. Arizona is not, as many people believe, a foreign nation. Only one stamp is required to get an envelope to Tucson. It just can't ever come back.
Quote from: Luna on June 20, 2011, 11:03:30 PM
Quote from: BadBeast on June 20, 2011, 10:24:06 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:53:49 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 08:46:09 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 08:43:30 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 20, 2011, 07:39:17 PM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 20, 2011, 07:31:12 PM
Quote from: Charley Brown on June 20, 2011, 03:07:16 PM
Dear Roger,
It was with humor that I noticed the envelope carrying your letter had been opened prior to being received by myself. I am not sure if this was on my end or yours, but I did want to give you a heads up in case.
Oh my god. Can you fathom what whoever opened it thought when s/he read that letter? There is some poor idiot curled in the fetal position and frothing at the mouth, trying to make sense of that letter.
Serves the nosy bastards right. :lulz:
:lulz:
I hope they open the response as well.
Possibility: I am using crappy envelopes, that require a bit of scotch tape to keep closed. Some bored geek at the post office may have found that suspicious.
Drat. Now my cocaine-smuggling operation is ruined. RUINED!
I could have smuggled as much as a twentieth of an ounce per letter!
:lulz:
You could try printing a small letterhead on the front of the envelope, saying "The Giggles Foundation". The nosy fuckers wouldn't open it then. :vom:
Well... Not TWICE, anyway.
Until I'd been here a little while, I was unaware of GIGGLES.
Then I was... I'm not sure "enlightened" is the right word, here...
"Endarkened" seems more apt. Beware his threads of "endarkenment". Wherever they eventually end up you won't be needing your eyes, so the fact you clawed them out of your head in a vain attempt to unsee some of that unholy shit, doesn't seem quite so important now. Your mood lifts a little.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 21, 2011, 12:49:47 AM
LMNO, I got your reply, and I have two things to say:
1. THEY GOT HIM!!!! :horrormirth:
and
2. Arizona is not, as many people believe, a foreign nation. Only one stamp is required to get an envelope to Tucson. It just can't ever come back.
For reference:
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v711/Marburger/0079bde3.jpg)
Also,
1) The Curly that can be detained is not the true Curly.
2) The extra postage was needed due to time dilation.
I'm just so excited yet slightly nauseous, it's like the morning after christmas!!! :lulz: :horrormirth: :lulz:
Hurry up mailman!!!
Letter: ACQUIRED
Now that's a proper way to wake up in the morning. :horrormirth:
Response will have to stew for a bit, but I think I've got the makings of an idea.
Doktor Cainad,
BASTARDS! THEY'RE ALL BASTARDS!
Everywhere I turn, sir, it seems that I have to deal with some rabid shitneck that feels a pressing need to include me in their stupidity. My colleagues at work are a pack of nattering fools who argue over the seating arrangements in the lifeboat, our state government is actually insane, and my town is stuffed full of Calvinist fuckbats that should be sent through a feed augur feet first.
There's no escaping it. I can't swing a dead coyote without hitting some random jackass. The Truth is, if you wait long enough, the whole world will show up on your doorstep, with a silly grin on their face, asking you to help them get their thumbs out of their arses.
In the real future, I'd have an orbital particle beam thingie that would let me handle this situation properly...But I am instead stuck in this miserable mockery of the future, a facade of cheap electronic toys, a facade behind which the starving masses of the world huddle, wondering where all the food went.
I mean, that's the bottom line, isn't it? We here in Western civilization live in a bubble, a rickety, sputtering "prosperity" that requires the effort and resources of the entire world to prop up. Make no mistake, the rest of the world isn't happy about this, and they won't miss us when we're gone.
And what of it? I won't miss us, either. We are using all of these resources for useless shit. Where are our space colonies? Our undersea cities? What grand task have we harnessed the entire output of the world for?
Look around you...We have merely eaten it. The final product of 66 years of global dominance is an obese population riding their mobility scooters to teabagger rallies, so they can put on their "angry town hall faces" and shriek that the uber-rich are being mistreated by the mean old tax man, and that they shouldn't get health care, because they might have to wait in line based on need. More to the point, they'd have to wait in that line with smudgy people.
This makes me wish for the vengeful God of the Book of Isaiah to return bloody-handed and full of wrath, to visit upon the fools the judgment they have for so long been demanding. But since the Old Testament God hasn't seen fit to do so, I am reduced to punishing them on my own, kicking the plugs out of the chargers at WalMart. Let the fuckers walk to get their boxes of powdered donuts and buckets of processed lard. It will do them no end of good.
I tell you, sometimes it's all I can do to get up in the morning, for I know that just outside my door, they wait.
They wait to tell me that I need Jesus, or that I need to sign their petition, or that we have to throw "Obongo" out. They wait to hit me up for a donation, to tell me that I shouldn't be allowed to have an over-sized magazine for my guns, that we have to bubble-wrap our children in their parks & schools...When you and I know the stupid little bastards would only try to eat the bubble wrap.
Well, fuck them. My daughter and I have fun, taking the vast piles of shit generated by our dogs, and piling them all in one mega-turd on the green of the golf course out behind the house. We shoot golf balls out onto the fairway, to fuck the golfers up, and we bray laughter at them whenever they catch us in the act.
We are considered a public blight, a property value-destroying plague upon their little chunk of Pleasantville, and I wouldn't have it any other way. If these fuckers liked me, I'd have to reassess the way I live my life.
The funniest part is when one of them refers to us as "liberals". We aren't liberals, of course, because liberals have the best interests of humanity at heart. We are misanthropes, my good man, and we don't want to help these people, or save them, or anything like that. Mostly, I just want them to go mad and run shrieking into the desert to their doom. I lie awake at night plotting further ways of doing this. This may imply that I am a bad person...I am comfortable with that, for I am an instrument of the Lord, a vessel of RIGHTEOUS WRATH.
Also, I'm an asshat. But you knew that.
I must admit, though, that I go easier on the liberals...Most of them, anyway. They may be hand-wringing milksops, but at least their intentions are usually good. This doesn't mean I don't smite them, I just don't do it as hard or as often. Also, they try to think. They don't do it very well, but the effort is there. I pull for them, Cainad, in the same way I'd root for 3 retarded people trying to repair a Cray II supercomputer.
But as for the rest, as for the fat fools who waddle around screaming that free speech is un-American, and that the evil "gummint" is wrecking America, and in the same breath begging that same government to torture people...Why, Cainad, there is no mercy, no limit to the horrible things that I will do to make their bad day just that much longer.
Someone's going to be PISSED by the time I die, sir, and it isn't going to be me. No, there is some shit I will not eat, and when I fling it all back at them, I will bellow my laughter & disdain for them, as they gun me down like a dog.
Don't you wish you were me?
Okay for now,
Dok
:mittens: :gheyforum:
Letter acquired. Also looks like the place has been abandoned for a few days. I can only guess at the horrors that were seen here over the weekend.
Dear Doktor Twiddington,
Why the hell isn't everyone laughing? This century has proven to be even funnier than the last one, hell, the jokes never stop, and everyone seems upset. Not only that, but they're only getting what they demanded.
They wanted to trash the constitution so they could torture smudgy people and harrass at the airport those they couldn't torture. This was done, and now everyone's complaining about the pervert machines. They wanted to get their punishment freak on, show those dirty criminals who the boss is, and now they bitch because 6 year olds are being booked on felony charges for acting out in class.
They wanted tax cuts for the rich, and now they bitch that the debt ceiling is fucked and all of our infrastructure is falling apart. They wanted to kick some Muslim ass, and now they're pissed because we can't seem to get our feet out of the quagmires over in various Middle Eastern & Asian nations. And it's not like no bastard TOLD them this would happen. Quite the contrary...They called anyone who tried to warn them "traitors".
They've gotten everything they wanted, and they're really mad about it. It occurs to me that they should have been more careful about what they wished for. I really fail to see how this is such a difficult concept.
I mean, you and me, we're rock n rollers. We ask for something, and it isn't what we really wanted, we deal with it. We know that if we stick our junk in a meat grinder and then start hollering for someone to turn the crank, it's gonna hurt. You won't hear us bitching about it...Both because we wouldn't do something that dumb, and also because you get what you pay for.
So, yeah, I'm really puzzled at the discontent in this country right now. Nobody's actually starving, the government does whatever stupid fucking shit we ask for, and we can have any cheap piece of shit we want, just down the road at WalMart. And still they bitch. It's almost like they aren't serious about having a good time.
We have to help them, Twid. We have to show them the humor in these things, demonstrate to them with our particular brand of horse-laugh radicalism that everything is funny. Hell, even skulls in mass graves smile, right?
Besides, it's not like they have much choice. They got what they asked for, and now they're stuck with it. This fills me with a glee that is difficult to properly express.
Well, enough of that nonsense, the primates will simply have to live things, and we can at least catch a good laugh at their fat, enraged faces on the news each night.
The other thing I wanted to bring up was the bitter disappointment that I felt when you East coast spags let those Belgians go without properly teaching them about America. There they were, right in your sites, and you let them get away without even doing SCIENCE to them.
These sorts of opportunities don't come along every day, and the least you could have done was teach them a good, sharp lesson for what they did to the Lusitania, way back in 1916. It's not enough that they forced croissants on us, they had to torpedo a ship full of orphans, too (their recent lies about the hold being full of munitions notwithstanding). ORPHANS, for Chrissakes. The Hun knows nothing of civilized behavior.
In this manner, they are much like the Welsh, or even your bog-hopping kin over in Eire or Erin Go Bra or whatever the hell you people call Ireland. And don't think the civilized world has forgiven you for corned beef, either. Who the hell eats that shit? I mean, outside of West Virginia and Boston, I mean. But West Virginians also eat lima beans, so you have to make allowances.
Anyway, you should have brought those European spags out West, where we could properly explain America to them, with visual aids. And guns. You can't really understand America without guns, booze, fast food, and the NFL. Better yet, take 'em to Vegas and Disneyland, in that order. Those two places embody all of America, and if you leave them on a corner in North Vegas at 2AM, they will indeed come to understand what we're all about.
You might, however, consider giving them those spiky helmets they wore back in the day, though, as North Vegas IS known for the occasional violent crime or three.
Look, there's no helping it. Next time you get Belgians to visit, I'll have to get out there, so we can properly state our case. Then we can all go get bombed at a Frost Heaves concert and throw up on the dance floor, like the good old days. Like rock n rollers should do...Then go roaring down to Providence (Villager better drive, though, as you cannot be trusted with mechanical things, and I cannot be allowed to drive when all fucked up on booze & pills), and show those Swamp Yankees a thing or two about who runs the show in this country.
And when the smoke finally clears, we can show the Belgians about our jail system, which is another thing that all tourists and anthropologists should understand in detail.
Besides, I hear the Providence city jail makes a mean rat on a stick.
Okay for now,
Dok
I can't remember the last time I had a decent rat-on-a-stick. What the hell has this country come to?
I see what you meant by Diddlertown's letter. :lol:
You just saw an opportunity to say Diddlertown :p
Dok,
Response written. It just has to be transferred from a composition notebook to a word file and then printed out and mailed.
Letter received. My wife called you a douchebag. I'm sure she meant it as a term of endearment. I'll reply sometime during this week while she is off tending goats.
Iason, the beauty of the above is that you meant every word, didn't exaggerate or obfuscate.
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on June 22, 2011, 03:25:05 AM
Letter received. My wife called you a douchebag.
Did she? For real? :lulz:
Will post copy tomorrow morning.
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on June 21, 2011, 09:49:17 PM
I see what you meant by Diddlertown's letter. :lol:
:lulz: You weren't kidding when you said you'd tease him by calling him that.
I lurv it. :D
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 22, 2011, 03:26:56 AM
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on June 22, 2011, 03:25:05 AM
Letter received. My wife called you a douchebag.
Did she? For real? :lulz:
Will post copy tomorrow morning.
Not sure if I mentioned it before but she's originally from Terre Haute (while I grew up on Phox's side of the river). I don't think she read the entire letter, but she saw that part.
:lulz:
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on June 22, 2011, 12:53:07 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 22, 2011, 03:26:56 AM
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on June 22, 2011, 03:25:05 AM
Letter received. My wife called you a douchebag.
Did she? For real? :lulz:
Will post copy tomorrow morning.
Not sure if I mentioned it before but she's originally from Terre Haute (while I grew up on Phox's side of the river). I don't think she read the entire letter, but she saw that part.
:lulz:
:lulz:
I won't hold it against her.
Hey, I'm laid up with the stomach nasties today, and the letter is on my work hard drive. Will post tomorrow.
Dear Iason,
Where the hell have you been, man? Are they keeping you prisoner down there in Indiana? Do you need assistance? Just say the word, and we'll have Doktor Phox and a few stout rednecks from Morris, IL, there to bust you out. We can't let the bastards push any of us around, or they'll start thinking they can push all of us around.
I knew Indiana was going to go bad, long before they put up the razor wire & towers. I DID warn you, you may recall. I am, however, used to my prophecies going unheeded until it's far too late. I am like Cassandra with gonads, I tell ya.
You see, I've spent a lot of time in Valparaiso and Chesterton. I once even took highway 20 all the way to Hammond...Bad times, man, bad times. Every town we went through had one of those snake-eating/cyanide-drinking churches on every block, and all the locals just sort of stared at me. I didn't hit the brakes for anything for 50 miles. Just ram the gas pedal to the floor, yeah, give the mutants a taste of the chrome, see how fast they get out of your way.
I had to pee in a jug, of course. Who the hell would get out of their car in a situation like that? I've seen Deliverance and all the cheap horror films. Some dumbass gets out of his car in the opening shots, and the hero finds his car - or his remains - later on, as a foreshadowing thing. Well, let me tell you, I'm the fucking main character, and I make a boring movie, because I don't stop for SHIT in places like that.
So maybe a few hicks go over the hood. I'm okay with that, given the alternative. This is not my first BBQ. No. I have heard of the bloody rites that go down there, with people being killed and thrown into the bogs. I've seen the hideous, unspeakable glyphs inscribed in the menhirs you guys use for picnic benches & bus stops.
One wonders what the locals do in places you can't see from the road.
So, if you're still running loose, post at PD, and remember to give the secret signal, so we know it's you and that you're not being coerced. If not, we'll assume the worst and wipe Muncie off the map as a warning shot. Phox is a cold, calculating, & ruthless killer, and she will take pleasure in doing so.
It's not the state of Indiana that bothers her, she's told me, it's the Hoosiers themselves. They look like American Gothic with a big lop of Cthulu dropped in. The eyes are too round, the mouths are too wide, and the head is vaguely triangular, as are the shoulders.
Her fondest wish, it seems, is to cleanse the entire state with HOLY FIRE™. Especially those spags in Terre Haute, whom she blames for the awful degeneracy in the Appalachian states. She's always been a little quick on the draw, but so far I have restrained her from doing something that nobody will actually regret...So you'd best answer this letter posthaste AND post at PD.
Anyway, enough with the unpleasant necessities.
The news on this end is remarkably good, for Tucson. My oldest has graduated high school, and in September, he's fucking off to the Marines for 5 years, and will thus be off the payroll. My daughter is still plotting my death, which is more than you lazy bastards can say.
Also, our entire state is on fire. Just thought I'd mention that. It doesn't seem to have made many changes, though power to New Mexico and West Texas may be cut off when the fires overtake the high tension lines out by Benson. I never liked them, anyway.
Oh, yeah, I almost forgot...The meth heads have shot ANOTHER Good Humor Man. I mean, it was horrormirthy the first time, but they really should get a new bit, you know what I mean? Fuck, there's 2 convents and a Buddhist monastery here, for fuck's sake...And more Scientologists and Mormons than you can shake a stick at. They should try to out-horrible themselves, not repeat the same tired schtick.
We also took a perfectly good, antique trolley system, and replaced it with shiny new cars that don't fit the tracks, and don't have the balls to get up the hill from 4th Ave to the Legal District. On weekend evenings, you can sit at the Eclectic Cafe on 4th and listen to the horrible rending noises and the screams of tourists & snowbirds. Almost everyone hollered at Mayor Walkup for that, but he doesn't seem to care. He's taken to drunkenly staggering around The City at all hours, screaming obscenities into people's windows.
When anyone complains, he just laughs this nasty little laugh and says "I PAY the police, fool! Now shut your gob before I have them come search your house for drugs & missing fat little boys!". He will, of course, be reelected...He's the only republican in Southern Arizona who isn't crazy.
Our SWAT team shot some ex-Marine 60 times (11 bullets of the 71 fired missed and went out looking for someone else to explain the 21st century to), for reasons that nobody, not even the commissioner, can properly explain. It was just one of those routine warrants that went all sideways.
Our cops, you see, are great, but our SWAT team is a joke. They aren't allowed to use their armored car anymore, after they mistook 6th STREET for 6th AVENUE, and drove backwards through what they thought was a meth lab...But when the ramp came down, all the trigger-happy gun bunnies were aiming at some old lady doing her knitting. You'd best believe SHE got paid, alongside her free education in 21st Century America™
Okay for now,
Dok
Cram's & Khara's letters are done, after a delay...They go in the mail tomorrow.
Next up:
Alty
Remington
8) Received.
Hee hee. I am giddy now.
I'm about to turn 38 and I'm as giddy as a kid in puppy love. (yes, something is seriously fucked up about me, but that's what Roger's letter inspires in me)
I am now plotting my return love salvo. *salutes*
Quote from: Jenne on June 24, 2011, 12:43:41 AM
8) Received.
Hee hee. I am giddy now.
I'm about to turn 38 and I'm as giddy as a kid in puppy love. (yes, something is seriously fucked up about me, but that's what Roger's letter inspires in me)
I am now plotting my return love salvo. *salutes*
Oh, dear. :lulz:
Will post letter here in the morning.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 23, 2011, 05:09:38 PM
Cram's & Khara's letters are done, after a delay...They go in the mail tomorrow.
Next up:
Alty
Remington
Woo! Your letter might be late in arriving due to the Canada-US temporal distortion. Also the fact that Canada Post is on national strike.
Dear Jenne,
You really have to get out here, woman, and you can bring that husband of yours with...We really must get together and do something grotesque before we die. Judging from the tone of your posts, this probably comes across as a tempting offer.
And why not? Tucson is heaven, complete with junkie angels and the meek. Oh, yeah, we have the meek...This place is a veritable collection point for the meek of the Earth. They crawl across the landscape, under the pitiless sun, looking for a bridge to shade under. They know that Jesus saves, but are reasonably certain that they aren't on the list.
And they know that nobody is going to save them while they're waiting for Jesus to save them. So they content themselves with the song of the junkie angels, who sing to them of razors and broken bottles as they look for anything negotiable that the meek may have on their persons, and then it's off to the dumpster mausoleum for them.
Just another day in Side Effect City.
Failing that, I'll be in San Diego for my son's Marine graduation sometime in December. I shall have Enabler and TGG with me at the least, and we'll try to get there a day early, so you can show us the sights in your city.
But I have to tell ya, it just isn't the same as coming HERE, and getting the full effect of Holiness™ that The City has to offer.
Well, enough of that. The point is, you need a vacation from the insanely busy schedule you have set for yourself. How you stand it is beyond me...For example, my reaction to the PTA here has apparently made me unwelcome at their meetings. It reminded me of dependents' meetings in the army. There's always two or three folks who have set themselves up as the "authority", and feel that all decisions of any kind must be approved by them (in the army, it's usually the executive officer's wife, in the PTA, it seemed to be whichever one(s) drove a Lexus to the meeting (Driving a Lexus doesn't guarantee that someone is a prick, but that's how you bet.).
And those aren't the kind that appreciate comments from some hulking, bald goon who has less than ideal respect for the august personages mentioned above...Especially when the remaining student in my family is a known troublemaker and scofflaw.
I am, of course, referring to my daughter Keelin (TGG at the board), who loves a good brawl & has a distinct distaste for authority. She thinks like an adult (by my definition), and resents being told what to do by stupid people. She will, of course, have to come to terms with that, as the world is ass-deep in stupid people in positions of authority, pretend or otherwise. I really should take her along to a PTA meeting, so she can get a sneak preview of what happens when big fish are set loose in a very, very small pond.
Oh, well, it is what it is. She will - or has - been told the same thing idiots have been telling me for my whole life..."You don't have the proper attitude."
I disagree. When they say "proper attitude", they mean "deference to bizarre societal norms and of course themselves as representatives of those norms". My response has always been, and will always be, "one finger on each hand up". I am pleased to say that my daughter has the same attitude, and has no fear of the problems that this inevitably causes. She's never complained about being victimized, because she tends to beat the crap out of anyone that attempts to victimize her, whether that beating be a physical one, or simply a devastatingly scornful verbal response.
This attitude will serve her well in the America™ in which she has grown up. She understands, you see, that being a good citizen only works if you live in a good society. We don't so being a good citizen is a good way to get shat upon for your whole life.
Funny, isn't it? A "good wife" means you know your place. A "good employee" means you are willing to be shat upon for any reason or no reason at all. A "good citizen" means you knuckle under to everyone in any position of petty authority. In short, being a "good anything" means you are a poop-receptacle of one kind or another.
So Keelin and I have decided that being "good" isn't on our agenda. No, we're having more fun being asshats, and it's been working for us. Not only do the fnords NOT get you, you get ahead. It is in fact true that nice guys finish last, but it is also important to remember that "not nice" doesn't necessarily equate to "being a piece of sociopathic garbage". It simply means you don't stand perfectly still while some yahoo shits down the back of your neck.
Let the "good citizens" cluck like outraged chickens; I'm here for a good time, and that usually doesn't mean doing what's expected of me by others. The distinction here is, I take care of the people I care about, and I disregard the expectations of people I don't care about, whether those people be relations, associates at work, or the yahoos over at the HOA.
Fuck those people, Jenne. They aren't MY people. They are tiny, harried little souls that wouldn't know a good time if it showed up in a leather harness & gimp mask, waving a bottle of booze and wondering where the party is.
You know, like us.
Okay for now,
Dok
Amen to that one, Dok.
:D Now you know why I got so squishy inside after reading it. TOTALLY MADE MY WEEK! :D
I have not sent my response yet as I still have to print it out. I am also intending on sending something else back with it. I hope to have the letter on its way to Tucson no later than Tuesday.
I think I might write you a letter, Dok. I need some prosaic therapy.
Squid hasn't talked to me since she got her letter. :sad:
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 25, 2011, 06:46:41 PM
Squid hasn't talked to me since she got her letter. :sad:
It must have been REALLY GOOD! :lulz:
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 25, 2011, 07:45:22 PM
Quote from: THE LORD AND LADY OMNIBUS FUCK on June 25, 2011, 07:44:36 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 25, 2011, 06:46:41 PM
Squid hasn't talked to me since she got her letter. :sad:
It must have been REALLY GOOD! :lulz:
It's already posted, upthread.
Maybe she's still recovering her ability to formulate thoughts.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 25, 2011, 06:46:41 PM
Squid hasn't talked to me since she got her letter. :sad:
She's probably too busy stuffing her husband into a strong enough box. That shit can be hard work.
My response should be there on wednesday
Cram's & Khara's have NOT been mailed yet. They are apparently on the passenger seat of my jeep.
Alty's & Eve's have been delayed a bit, due to no sleep and other shit, but will be forthcoming this week.
I just got mine today. It's funny you should mention Bachmann really -- we're doing US Politics in class at the moment, and it seems the more I learn about her, the more disgusted (also amazed and amused) I get. I'm going to attempt a response, btw, but it'll take a while for postage and all that.
BDS,
Thought I'd get this letter out before the state of Arizona goes completely up in flames. Interestingly enough, in a desert, your principle dangers are fire and floods. The two together, of course, are particularly amazing...First the fire burns off all the ground cover that would slow down a flood, then the summer rains come and everyone drowns.
Just another spring in the best little state in America™.
Consider yourself fortunate...You live in Britain, which isn't on any fault lines, is too soggy to burn, and is no longer in danger from pillaging Saxons and Vikings. It sounds like heaven, come to think of it, only with bad cooking and warm beer with hairy bits of pond life in it. You have no idea how lucky you are.
Hell, even your politicians are only lousy, not "batshit insane". Over here, the republicans probably WILL run Palin/Bachmann, which both cracks me up, and fills me with an unholy, misanthropic glee. It's sort of like the tribes of Israel beating themselves to death before God could get around to it, you know?
Perversity, Dr Pook, nothing but perversity. The American People couldn't vote their own interests if you stapled the answer to their fat, angry faces. It seems that the great experiment has failed, and you Brits should probably put a stop to it, before we breed any more bloated idiots (We're not fooled about the whole "revolution" thing, by the way. It's fucking obvious that Cornwallis was sandbagging, and that this was all a big set up).
Serious about this. The experiment has hopped over the ring of penicillin around the petri dish, and has begun infecting Canada and the rest of the Commonwealth. Count how many McDonalds are around you, if you need evidence. Soon, you too will be up to your arses in land-whales, their mobility scooters whining in distress at every uphill grade, as they bellow out demands for your assistance in getting their snack food.
Eventually, they begin to pile up at low points in the road, and the stench is unbelievable. It's like having a dozen beluga whales beached in mid-summer (Summer, for you Brits, is the time period that the rest of the world has between spring & fall.), and as we found out in California, you can't even dynamite them. They just have to be left to rot. Horrible, horrible.
There's also appearances to consider. Remember that this is the nation that elected Bush once for a laugh, and then again because the joke never got old. We followed that with The Smiler, who does the exact same things, only with a big smile instead of a smirk.
All of the above has convinced me that the republic is a failed experiment, as it deviates just a little too far from the regular pack structure of primate politics. And the teabaggers...They're just embarrassing, really.
The teabaggers, seen from up close, are a little hard to explain.
Imagine if your Gran went a little dotty in her old age, and decided that she really, really hated your local city council. Imagine then that she got a pack of other senile old folk formed into a mob, and they all went down to the council chambers, protesting the fact that British Petroleum has to pay too many taxes. Imagine also that all of their signs were spelled badly, and that they howled in rage every time they thought they were on camera, looking like nothing so much as a pack of toothless, overweight apes screeching at a perceived threat to their territory.
Now imagine a pack of these in every town in England. Better yet, imagine the BNP gaining a majority in the House of Commons after chewing on lead-based paint chips for a while. That's basically what happened here, and nobody can seem to explain it. It's like all 301,000,000 of us went barking mad all at the same time. Our House of Representatives is composed for the most part of people who know they have to out-whackjob the clowns in the street, just to keep their jobs.
Even more ghastly, the "ideals" of the teabaggers have spread to Canada, primarily Ontario and British Columbia, as evidenced by their last national elections. This implies, Dr Pook, that madness of this sort is contagious. So far, there is no cure, and the only thing saving us is that most of them are too large to move very often, so their rallies now typically consist of about 30 people.
They still vote, though...And if that's not an argument against mob rule, then I don't know what is.
So quit fucking about, put an end to this nonsense, and send the Royal Navy around to take the colonies back. Not joking here, if I could go back in time to 1776, I'd kick Jefferson up Madison's arse and tell the rest of that lot to go home and shut the fuck up. Even crazy King George III was better than what this has turned into.
One word of warning, though...I'd pass laws against quartering troops in American's houses. We've gotten a little strange while you've been gone, and the last thing you want is your soldiers falling prey to us while they sleep. There's not an American alive that wouldn't take advantage of that situation, and get all weird on your troops. Your hospitals would be bursting with post traumatic stress disorder cases, and those would be the LUCKY ones. The rest would never be seen again.
Just a head's up.
Okay for now,
Dok
Dear Doktor Semaj,
Do not suppose that it has escaped my attention that you have been noticeably absent from the board. Given that there's nothing else to do in the frozen Canadian province of Pennsylvania, I have to assume that you're up to something unsavory.
Obviously, I am on board with this, but give a brother a hint, will you?
I mean, I'd hate to unveil my latest engine of DOOM, only to find out that you've already done the same thing or hit the same targets. Why duplicate our efforts, or compete? I mean, there's plenty of orphans for everybody, and that can only increase as the new abortion laws go through.
I am against those, to the same degree that I am against those people walking, mostly because I am FOR anything that reduces the population. There are in fact so many people that if we DON'T go all muhaha once in a while, they'll choke on their own shit. It's win-win.
But to do this properly, I am thinking we need an airship. Or a secret underground lair. Or ninjas. Or all of the above. If you're going to do this sort of thing, you may has well show a little class while doing so.
In any case, as inspiration for pulp shenanigans, I offer the following titles for your consideration:
Doktor Sleepless (1-13, first 8 are in a trade paperback), Warren Ellis
Captain Swing (1-3, final issue #4 due out whenever), Warren Ellis
Planetary (4 trade paperbacks), Warren Ellis
Global Frequency (2 trade paperbacks), Warren Ellis
Crooked Little Vein (Novel), Warren Ellis
Preacher (a bunch of trade paperbacks), Garth Ennis
Chinatown (movie starring Jack Nicholson)
The Two Jakes (sequel to Chinatown)
Angel Heart (movie starring Mickey Rourke)
That should be enough to revitalize your mission, should it prove to be the case that you are simply being a couch blob, WoW junkie, etc. Be advised that the ages of 18-30 are the most dangerous time in a person's life. That used to be because people of that age did stupid fun things, with no regard for their wellbeing. Now it's because people of that age turn into drones, mere food tubes, who slowly grow attached to their couch, and whose circle of acquaintances slowly shrinks down to maybe one or two people at maximum, both of whom will also be useless drones.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Just look around the awful little town you live in. Does anyone look happy? Aside from young people in love - who don't know any better - my guess is that most of them are, instead, complacent. They've been tricked their whole lives into thinking that the best times are ahead, not in the present, and if they slow down to smell the roses, the fnords will eat them.
By the time they realize that they've been lied to their whole lives, they are bitter old folks who are still invested in the system, because they can't face the idea that they wasted their lives. Typically, they can be seen at "town hall" meetings, practicing their "angry town hall face" and screaming for tax relief for their betters.
And people wonder why I chose to be a villain. Sure, we always wind up dying - or appearing to die - in our secret bases, our plans ruined and our lackeys dead, but until that happens we have FUN.
Remember fun? It's what you had before you started worrying so damn much.
Funny part is, there's no need to worry. You really ARE fucked. Just as a parachutist stops being afraid once he's actually out of the airplane, there's no reason to be afraid now...Since you're already fucked, you may as well enjoy the ride.
So stop worrying about tomorrow...Unless you have a way to make the primates start breeding, or making sound financial moves, or something along those lines, you are powerless to control your fate, so my advice to you is to start enjoying what you have now, and leave tomorrow for tomorrow.
You're living in the tail end of a golden age, in fact THE golden age, the only time in history that was fit for human beings. Your best bet is to enjoy your trinkets and toys while you have them, and perhaps occasionally punish the pig-fuckers who are doing their best to wreck it all.
So, there, I said it. The best way to be a hero nowadays is to be a villain. Surprise! You've been backing the wrong horse all this time, for two reasons:
1. People don't want to be saved, and they'll kill you if you try, because
2. The dangers to the world today are caused by THEIR excesses and stupidity.
That's right. It isn't Fu Manchu or the Red Skull. It isn't even Halliburton and companies like it. It's the stupidity, greed, and complacency of the very people you wish to protect. Muhaha!
Okay for now,
Dok
I started writing your letter today at the beach, Dok. :) I was observing what you were saying about too much nature, and felt the need to comment.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 28, 2011, 06:14:56 PM
Cram's & Khara's have NOT been mailed yet. They are apparently on the passenger seat of my jeep.
Alty's & Eve's have been delayed a bit, due to no sleep and other shit, but will be forthcoming this week.
I hope my mailman recovers...... :oops:
Dok,
response received yet?
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,
response received yet?
Yes. My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox. Will open it shortly.
If it explodes, I will not be amused.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,
response received yet?
Yes. My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox. Will open it shortly.
If it explodes, I will not be amused.
Did my letter ever make it, Dok?
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 30, 2011, 03:09:07 AM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,
response received yet?
Yes. My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox. Will open it shortly.
If it explodes, I will not be amused.
Did my letter ever make it, Dok?
Yes, it did. I read it while suffering the after-effects of a vindaloo binge, and it inspired me to greatess.
Reply forthcoming.
And, as I've said, I am updating the OP of this thread, to show who sent & received what.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:14:12 AM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 30, 2011, 03:09:07 AM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,
response received yet?
Yes. My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox. Will open it shortly.
If it explodes, I will not be amused.
Did my letter ever make it, Dok?
Yes, it did. I read it while suffering the after-effects of a vindaloo binge, and it inspired me to greatess.
Reply forthcoming.
And, as I've said, I am updating the OP of this thread, to show who sent & received what.
Shit, didn't check there first. Sorry, man.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,
response received yet?
Yes. My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox. Will open it shortly.
If it explodes, I will not be amused.
Won't explode. It's just 4 pieces of paper. Let me know when, and I'll post.
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:48:23 AM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,
response received yet?
Yes. My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox. Will open it shortly.
If it explodes, I will not be amused.
Won't explode. It's just 4 pieces of paper. Let me know when, and I'll post.
Post at will, I'm shutting down & going to bed, where I shall read it.
I did see the diploma. :lulz:
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:49:11 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:48:23 AM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,
response received yet?
Yes. My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox. Will open it shortly.
If it explodes, I will not be amused.
Won't explode. It's just 4 pieces of paper. Let me know when, and I'll post.
Post at will, I'm shutting down & going to bed, where I shall read it.
I did see the diploma. :lulz:
Cool. There will be a couple of min lag, since I'm popping out for a smoke
On letterhead:
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
Dear Doktor Howl,
I hope that this letter finds you well. It was with great peril that I acquired the one which you sent to me. I travelled many miles from Villager's apartment in Dorchester to Newton, then back to Dorchester for beer and barbecue (which ended up being wine and cheezits). This journey was undertaken via MBTA. I'm not certain if LMNO ever told you, but unlike other subways, the MBTA is a living but largely dormant entity that has been made docile for the purposes of transportation, not unlike the sandworms in Dune, revered as Shai-Hulud. It's a little known fact that Herbert was inspired to write of sandworms after a particularly interesting ride from Park Street.
Some say it is a god worshiped by the Massachusett; Some say it is a demon subdued by the Freemasons for nefarious puposes; I have heard it said that it is the trapped ghost of Metacomet (though this never made sense to me); and yet others say that it is the reason why we won the Revolution. I am hoping that Villager's infiltration of the Dorchester Historical Society will turn up valuable documents on the matter, especially after today. Whatever MBTA happens to be, it is certain that it wished to deter me from reading your letter, as the Alewife train seemed willing to throw itself off the tracks and down a hill in order to keep me from getting it. I got off at South Station to fool it and instead take the Worcester Line directly to my old abode.
Arriving at the Nepostery, Newton Branch, I read the letter immediately. Clutching the two pages, I made back for Dorchester, and MBTA was enraged. It bucked and lurched, endeavoring to throw me from my seat on the D Line and break my neck. The Ashmont train was just as intent as before when it was heading to Alewife. MBTA was roused from its slumber, and I wonder if it was the presence of something Tucsonian, forcing it to remember the ancient horrors that lay dormant beneath the surface of Bostonia, like some dreadful incantation from the Necronomicon...
Spirits of the Red Line, remember!
Spirits of the Green Line, remember!
Spirits of the Blue Line, remember!
MBTA, delayer of dudes, be praised!
Ia! Ia! In his house at Park Street Station, dead Charlie waits dreaming!
My other working theory is that the conductors got sick and delirious from the fetor that is my socks in a New England summer. Either way it was a fucking bumpy ride.
But, that is enough of the ordeals of escaping the wrath of MBTA. In regard to the content of your letter, these are the exact events as foretold in The Holy Book of the Profit-sees of the Spend Times. It's almost like the monkeys are using it as a script, however, it's such a rare and obscure set of predictions, I don't see how they could. For this reason, I have concluded that we are indeed living in the Spend Times. Matter of fact, I believe the Books says that any given point in history falls within the span of the Spend Times. I can't be sure, my copy was translated from German using Google Translate, so, maybe it doesn't say that after all. Google doesn't have much going for it in the nuance department.
But it seems to indicate a time when everyone will complain about getting everything they ask for, a time when old men will wish for the Bad Ole DaysTM since things were simpler back then, and young men will look forward to a future where they will only end up wishing for their Bad Ole DaysTM, since we at least had abundant electricity. It will be a day where everyone needs to buy that next new gadget because their old one is a year or so obsolete, though perfectly functional. One in which the Specter of Communism has been successfully exorcized by transforming the proletariat into a doodad craving mass to consume the products. And a time when though Communism has become a dead and irrelevant concept, one that is brought up to frighten the proles into selling their souls to the corporations. Every god needs its devil to keep the faithful coming back out of fear. And these people will become a deformed, shapeless mass afflicted with the demon, Taiptu, buying up arms and threatening to drive their Rascals to DC in rebellion every time that black guy comes up with another plot to advance his devil soshulizm.
As for the lack of having fun with this madness and insanity, people have lost the way. They've been taught for so long that everything is going wrong and yet somehow this is the greatest societal construct that monkeys have ever devised. This paradox confuses them and makes them angry. Thus, no matter how often they get what they want, they will assume there is something wrong with it (and often there is, but the consequences of their choices and laws never occurred to them. Yet is is somehow never their fault).
This is the Time of the Greyface, in the parlance of our beatnik spiritual forebears. And you are quite correct in saying that something must be done to help them remember how to have fun again, and failing that, at least have fun at their expense.
In regard to item two of your epistle, I apologize for our neglect in showing Trip and Kirchtorte the best of America, and telling them of our long and righteous history. There's only so much of America that you can show from the animal carcass-strewn forests of Connecticut, and I had figured that Professor Cramulus and Princess Kaosuu would have shown them the East Coast weird in New York and Providence respectively. You'll have to contact them on that matter.
That said, I am definitely down for going to a Frost Heaves show with any Discordian, European or not, and then continuing the Holy Ritual of Drink MOAR in Providence, as only Rock and Rollers like you and I can do. Villager is cool with driving so long as there is sufficient sunlight. This is good, because she can bail us out after we've gotten a good night's sleep and a hearty meal in Providence's free hotel.
With best wishes,
(Twid's signature here)
Nph. Twiddleton, HD, KSC, ONEC
PS- Corned beef was our first attempt at world domination through gastronomic warfare. Who would have thought that the Bostonians would have developed a taste for it?
Enclosure (which was printed in black and white due to low color ink), signed by myself and Villager.
(http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa66/dracolupus/diploma.jpg)
HA HA! :mittens: on the diploma (and letter!), Twid...NICE!
I forget how i came up with the idea but once i got it i was like hell yeah!
SQUID: I have received your reply, and I am not frightened by your voodoo. My pills are more than adequate to hold any number of spiders at bay, and believe me when I say that this one shall be returned to you in far better (and bigger) shape that it arrived here in.
My reply is forthcoming!!!! :D
Dear Khara,
It's a lovely 111F here today, and it feels like I have weights piled on my shoulders. The smoke from the still-uncontained wildfires is still making everything smell like an ashtray, and the natives are getting reckless (Crime always goes up with the heat.). This place is paradise, I tell you.
Everything seems pushed down, flattened beneath the pitiless sun. The general impression you get is that you're a very small bug crawling across a very large plate, with a heat lamp directly overhead.
The heat & the smoke from the fires has affected the cockroach population, causing it to go completely batshit. Fortunately, I have the Josef Mengele of the exterminator world, and my house is clear of vermin. I wish I could say the same about our offices.
But then the sun goes down and the night comes up, and I remember why I love The City. Nighttime is still a little hot, but bearable, and the police are too busy to worry about a Jeep full of degenerates out looking for Saturday Night. It's still out there, all you have to do is look for it...Though I might suggest that looking for it in St Louis may not be the wisest course of action.
Straighten out your affairs, and get out here. Escape that horrible war zone you live in, and come to a place where the criminals are at least interesting. Nurse Enabler & Freeky will be glad to show you around, and there's no end of good, cheap cuisine.
I kid most people about moving here, but you really should. We're your people, Khara, and we understand a thing or two about getting our rage on. For the most part, people stay out of your business, and the only trouble the kids will find is the trouble they go looking for.
Yes, the summer is a bit punishing, but each winter, you can sit with us on top of the mountain, and laugh at the lowlanders as they struggle across their ice sheets or flail about in the incessant flood waters, tornados, and hurricanes visited on them by an angry God.
The world is trapped in a maelstrom right now, and Tucson sits on the outside edge. This doesn't guarantee safety, but it means that you can watch all the other bastards go under first. With any luck at all, for example, Washington DC will be uninhabitable within 10 years. They'll probably move the government to Denver, of course, only to be eaten by wendigos.
Also, we can teach your kids how to use firearms properly. By this I mean, firing out the window of the Cherokee while roaring through the Santa Rita mountains, or the sport we like to call "sun-roofing", which is best left undescribed. It has to be experienced in person, to gain a proper appreciation for it.
It is about a 22 hour drive from St Louis, down 44 til you hit Amarillo, then a few minor interchanges, then 60 to Clovis, then 70 through Roswell, and on to Las Cruces, where you pick up I-10W, and it takes you straight to Tucson. Word of warning: Just before Alamagordo, you hit White Sands Pass. Make sure your AC is off, and keep an eye on your engine temperature. It's a bugger. Going down the other side is a piece of cake, as it is not nearly so steep.
Also, close your windows in Amarillo. It's the cattle pen of the West, and the flies are as thick as teabaggers on tax day.
See? Easy. If you aren't killed by the Apache in the White Mountain reservation, anyway. They are normally a likeable bunch, but sometimes they eat too many pickled eggs, and then it's all tomahawks and screaming. Best not to dwell on that.
Well, enough of that. Either you will escape, or you won't.
Not much news, here. Ian's buggering off to the Marines in September, and Keelin is doing her level best to make everyone in the area crazy. Freeky is going back to school, and people have finally started to respect my "Leave the Good Doktor alone for the first hour and a half after he gets home" rule. Honestly, I was beginning to think about putting a cot in my office, just to get some actual rest.
I think what's been getting on my ass is that there simply hasn't been a lot of time for serious degeneracy, lately. I've put my Slack™ down somewhere, and I can't remember where I left it. This has to change.
Yes, it must change. There must be time set aside for Redemption™, our way. The times are far too ticklish for anything less, and it's not like anyone is going to get my freak on FOR me, right? No, there is bourbon to drink, cactus to eat, pills to gobble, and Mormons to harangue. It's only fair, they do it to everyone else.
There are as yet briefly glimpsed but unexplored zones of weirdness, and we have to investigate this shit for SCIENCE! Just another reason for you to come down here. I mean, everyone should be exposed to our dirty little civic secrets, at least once. And once you have, you're addicted.
Just some food for thought.
Okay for now,
Dok
Got my letter! My roommates were in tears when I read it to them. Pinned proudly to my fridge. :lulz: :lulz:
Awesome letter, Dok! :lulz: Response in progress. :D
I'm still putting together a response. Something that hilarious needs a proper reply. :D
I will have a...PACKAGE...delivered in the Dok's vicinity...rather soon.
Eve,
So, how the hell are things in the Boston area? I have fond memories of the town, given that you have things like subways and, you know, tall buildings. We have no subway here, though that doesn't stop us from giving tourists bad directions to find it.
That sounds awful, but think about it: Anyone who comes to Tucson as a tourist deserves whatever they get. Especially if they're wearing Sarah Palin tee-shirts and stand around goggling at Hispanics like they've never seen one before. I imagine they're wondering when the Hispanics will all suddenly pull guns and shoot everyone in sight in some drug-addled frenzy.
Then, when they finally see a gringo, they expect that I'm "on their side" or some shit, and I give them directions to the non-existent Green Line, in the opposite direction from the hotel they're looking for, which is 4 blocks away. I consider this something of an act of civic virtue, like giving spare change to hoboes, or knocking Mormons off the curb.
Fucking Mormons...It's not bad enough that they own Utah, they have to come down here and get our Gays all riled up, too. I've never understood why Mormons get so upset about the Gay marriage thing, when given their definition of marriage, I could stay married to Nurse Enabler and Maria, and still have time to go looking for more trouble.
It's not that I'm a liberal or anything, Eve...It's that I can't stand stupid, and they bring it here from Utah & Phoenix in big bushel baskets. If they're not after the Hispanics, they're after the Gays, and if they're not after the Gays, they're after the schools. It seems to me that they'd be happier minding their own business, if only they had some business to mind. I mean, it must be awesome to be so perfect that you have time to run around running everyone else's lives, right?
And it's not like these paragons of morality are themselves not a pack of closet perverts. Either they're texting pictures of their dick to random girls (Weiner) or indulging in their diaper fetish with low-rent prostitutes (Vitter) or getting it on with fat young boys in the congressional page system (Foley) or exercising their constitutional right to airport bathroom sex (Craig). Are they all perverts, Eve?
I mean, I'm okay with that (except for Foley), it's just the closet thing that bothers me. If they were plain old perverts, they'd be okay. I think they'd probably leave a motherfucker alone once in a while, right? The only good thing about it all, is that the more someone screams about other peoples' lifestyles, the more you can put money down that they'll soon be outed for raping ostriches up in Casa Grande.
Well, enough of that bad noise, Eve, it's not like these are our people. No, you are fortunate enough to live in a city where the normal people outweigh the self-righteous toads that can't mind their own fucking business. So let's talk about something else.
Let's instead talk about the need for you & D-Cup to get down here for the next Steampunk convention. No, we won't be attending it, hell, the fucking basic pass costs $65 alone, and that's too much to pay to watch people stagger around in the desert heat in leather and brass (and it's like another hundred clams if you want to actually do everything). The smell alone is horrifying, as is watching a Fatty Arbuckle clone try to squeeze into a Victorian-era smoking jacket.
No, I was thinking that the two of you and we in the Tucson Cabal could go harass them in the parking lot for an hour or so, then go stomping off into Central Filth and/or the Legal District to have some wrong fun. Maybe act like horses' asses at the Hotel Congress bar (What would John Dillinger do?), and then go push Calvinists into traffic on 4th Avenue.
This is also a public service, Eve. The bastards park themselves on every third corner with bullhorns, harassing innocent pot-heads and drunks with ear-splitting feedback that occasionally comes with garbled nonsense about fire & brimstone. I don't care what anyone says, there is no constitutional right to fuck up someone else's Saturday Night.
Yep. The two of you, and maybe Richter and Tripping Princess and Luna or whomever, come down here, and we will show you America, with its pants around its ankles and its drawers full of horror. We have it all down here, lady, the whole package. Guns, WalMart behemoths, weird religion, perverts, very polite muggers (they stuff your body in a dumpster, which helps keep The City looking nice & tidy), and more random violence than you can get anywhere else, including network TV.
I'll make sure to have a good stack of hickory axe handles handy, so we can properly make our case - explain our position, if you will - to the teabaggers and the Mormons and the body-Nazis and all the other scum that will, make no mistake, try to get between us and the good time that we are so very serious about.
This is no century for half-measures, Eve. Get your ass down here, and we shall march on a road of bones, to that glorious future that we should have had, had the assholes not fucked it all up for us, and built this horrible prison around us while we slept. This is our century, and we're wasting time. We should be smiting the heathen, not just trying to get by, day by day. There's no time for that shit anymore, you only get one ride around, and there are no extra lives, no matter how many quarters you give them.
So enough of this fucking around.
Okay for now,
Dok
Kit (Hovercat),
Having seen the most recent batch of pics depicting you and your hooligan friends out trampling the wildlife, I now understand why California is the Godless sinkhole of iniquity that it has become. I notice, however, that there is no indication of how that little excursion was funded, is there?
Don't tell me, because I can guess. You hoodlums have been out mugging unsuspecting Tea Party members, haven't you? I can read it all over your smug & depraved demeanors. Anything to get your "fix", when God knows you people should be acting like good young Americans, and watching TV until your ass bonds with the couch, like that lady in Alabama.
You people just don't know how good you have it. We here in Tucson would KILL to be able to take a walk without being burned to a crisp, bitten by some horrible poisonous and/or rabid animal...Or getting shot full of holes by the crazy neighbor wearing nothing more than horribly stained underwear, a tinfoil-lined Kevlar helmet, and the "Jesus & Palin 2012" sticker pasted to his beer gut. It's fucking awful.
Yes, Kit, it's all we can do here to not just jam the assault rifles out the mail slot and blaze away, before low-crawling to the car each morning. This would, in fact, be the best tactic, if it weren't for the Goddamn wood scorpions. Little buggers look just like a pebble, and they'll make you swell up like Teddy Kennedy if you give them a chance. So, instead, we throw small animals out the back door - as a diversion - and then make a run for it. It's cruel, but what else can we do? These are grim days.
So you get to the Jeep more or less in one piece, and crank the key, hoping meth heads haven't siphoned out all the gasoline the previous night (I live in a nice neighborhood, therefore this isn't a certainty), and throw it in reverse. Then there's that horrible double thump that says you're going to need another paperboy (I was a paperboy, back when I was a kid, and I moved way faster than these little toads do nowadays).
Then it's screaming down the surface streets, trying to get to the highway. Even at 4AM, this is not a foregone conclusion. The hardcore freaks are still out (Sun comes up at 4:35AM), and they are liable to do anything at that hour. They get suicidal, I am told, when it looks like the party is over for another 10 hours. You also have to contend with other drivers, and that is no small issue, here in a retirement state.
Okay, onto the highway, dodging the huge trucks driven erratically by speed-freaks and meth users, and you start looking around for the Horror of the Day™. This morning, it was a semi barreling along, dragging the carcass of what might have been a cow stuffed halfway up into a wheel well.
You've now been (technically) awake for 45 minutes, and another horrible day in Tucson is just beginning. Just think, you only have another 15 hours to go. I love it here, and I'll never, ever leave.
In fact, I think I'll say that I'll let you keep your "nature walks". It's more fun here...And you, like those spags out East, have too much nature, and it's bad for you. Did you know they have rivers that actually have water in them, and they let it all drain out into the ocean? They're spoiled, that's what they are. I know this, because I saw with my own eyes, a little more than a year ago, when I paid a visit to Richter and Suu and the other spags...Including LMNO.
A word of warning: LMNO is a bad person. He pretends to be your average, everyday Big Gay Cowboy, but the horrible truth is that he's behind every major crime East of the Mississippi. I say this without fear, for his enforcers are all Italians, and burst into flames when exposed to the Arizona sun. So long as I remain in my mountaintop fortress of arrogance, I am perfectly safe...When they start making SPF5000 sunscreen, I'll buy more ammunition.
But yeah, you keep the hikes, and I'll keep Tucson, where Nurse Enabler and Freeky sing to me every night, like Shehezarade used to do for that Arabian fellow. They sing to me of ancient heroes, like Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday and Richard Nixon, while we all curl up on the floor clinging - as President Obama said - to our guns and our religion.
But I'm kind of thinking that we aren't clinging to the religion he thinks we're clinging to. No. You of all people know what I'm talking about...The best of the One True Religions, here in The City of Eris, where everyone can hear you scream, but nobody cares...And if they do, it's only that they can steal your boots once you're a deader.
On a completely unrelated subject, you have to tell us how that crazy sister of yours got her nickname. We are puzzled..."Shoe Ears" isn't exactly self-explanatory (or at least it shouldn't be), and more to the point, we have money riding on this. So dish with the gossip, already.
We are, however, impressed with her. She walked straight into a blizzard of shit named AKK, and came out in once piece, on her first day. That's no small achievement...I mean, AKK isn't exactly an intellectual giant, but he IS persistent and annoying as hell, and he's run off established users in his various incarnations on PD.
Well, I have to wrap this up. My boss keeps pinging my email with "urgent" messages that probably just mean something's on fire again. I swear, that man is jumpier than Gabby Giffords' security detail. So, in closing, should you ever have to pass through Tucson on I-10, stay in the left lane and go like hell. There's nothing good for you lowlanders here, and Arizona doesn't honor diplomatic immunity with California.
Okay for now,
Dok
My Dear Professor Cramulus, 6/22/2011
I must, with much regret, announce the failure of the Tucson Expedition. All the porters have gone native...And the last time anyone saw Nurse Fracture, she was running off into the bush with our linguist's severed head, singing Please Don't Leave Me, by P!nk, at the top of her lungs.
What would Chinese Gordon have done in a situation like this? Would he fight until the end, or would he, as I have done, merely kept his pistol loaded and his unicycle at hand, hoping that his missives to Miskatonic University have gotten through?
In case the worst happens, please allow me to spell out some of the bizarre and deadly encounters we have had.
First, the cockroaches. They are immense, and only the dwindling stores of .60 ammunition for the elephant rifle have kept them at bay (Lesser calibers have had no effect other than to enrage them.). They bark like mad dogs in the night, then pounce on whichever unlucky souls they may find alone and without some source of fire. They took Stanley last week...All we found was a boot.
Second, the native women. They are not at all the ladies that you & I are used to, but instead savages even more fearsome than their men-folk. Poor Morresby had his head stove in, with a "meathammah", by one of these brutes, just for asking where the men's room was...And our chaplain was lured away by two of them that were wearing "daisy dukes" and bikini tops, and we've never seen him again. We fear the worst.
Third, A scorpion carried off our pack animals. All at once. I do not feel that I need to elaborate on this, Professor. It strongly resembled the garbled, frenzied description given by the late Professor Cainad, on his doomed expedition to the Hollow Earth, with the exception that we - as of yet - have not run into any Nazi Hell Creatures.
Fourth, Professor Moss simply exploded last Tuesday. We do not know why, and do not care to investigate. He was eating some of the local food, and suddenly exploded with a great roar, and his bits were...I do not wish to discuss it.
This, of course, just leaves me. I have in fact located the ancient library in the Legal District, but it is entirely surrounded by what look to be homeless people. I had at first thought to negotiate with them...But before leaving my place of concealment, I watched in horror as they hauled a lawyer of some kind out of his conveyance and devoured him, all the while dancing in his blood and chanting the name of their foul God, "Zalgo".
I have found a safe, concealed place in which to sleep, and I shall make my decision then. I shall post the results on the second page (included).
More later.
6/23/2011
The horror. Professor, words cannot express the vile night that I have just endured. I had holed up in the ruins of the Loft Theater, where I had hoped to get some much-needed rest. Little was I to know that this is a major site of worship for them. I had hardly bunked down in the balcony, when they came trooping in.
I remained silent as the proverbial mouse, for as long as I could endure it. The fiends have somehow gotten their hands on a copy of Van Juntz, for the monsters began immediately performing High School Musical. While I lay curled in a fetal position on the floor, with my fingers jammed into my ears, I noticed the wall ripple.
I desperately sought a rational explanation of this phenomena, but my mind kept returning to Zalgo, he who waits behind the wall. The "humans" below me began to change, Professor...Tentacles sprouted, gills were revealed, and to a man, their eyes began to leak a black, viscous fluid. Mercifully, I passed out.
In the dawn's light, the theater was abandoned. I made my way out and set up camp some distance from The City...But they call me. I can hear the flutes playing, and the urge to resist has long since gone. Tonight, I shall join them.
Good bye,
Doktor Hamish Howl
Police Note: This gibberish was found on one Doktor Hamish Howl, presumably an associate of yours. He seemed to be utterly mad, and was unfortunately struck by a car & gravely injured as he was performing some sort of dance in the street during rush hour. Normally, we would assume that he is one of the many insane homeless people, but it seems he was carrying this letter and proper academic credentials.
The paperwork we found indicates that there were at least 20 people in his "expedition", including folks he'd hired in Benson to assist him with the movement of his "instruments", which we have not found. Nor have we found any of the alleged expeditionary members, whom he describes in his journal as having either abandoned him or been killed somewhere in the vicinity of Drachmann Street & Stone Avenue. It is our opinion that this group never existed. If you know anything to the contrary, please inform us.
In any case, the Doktor is in bad shape in St Mary's Hospital. I urge you to come see him, as we do not expect him to survive. Also, we will assume that you are his executor, and the numerous books in his possession look like they belong in a collection.
We hope to hear from you soon. Feel free to bring your associates.
Ian Phatang,
Detective, Tucson PD
:mittens: :mittens: :mittens:
Dear Alty,
I am hoping you can read this through the clouds of black flies that infest your state, which is no doubt a plague sent by an angry God. It's not like you weren't courting divine retribution up there, being so close to the Godless Russkies...Which I am told can be seen from Wasilla on a clear day, if your porch is high enough.
Thinking about it, there's no reason that the 7-headed beasties described in Revelation shouldn't drag themselves out of the ocean in Alaska. Of course, they'd have to send a bunch of them, as the first few will be mistaken for walruses or some shit, and clubbed to death by the locals, for fuel oil and their hides.
It occurs to me that this is yet another advantage of living in a land-locked state. We have no beaches, and are thus safe from the ravings of St John of Patmos. Say what you will about his religion, that man could write. I'd put him second only to Cicero when it comes to foot-stomping, bleacher-pounding, ass-kicking ranting.
Whoops. Got sidetracked there for a moment. Back on to the iniquities and sins of your so-called "state". You see, there's something of a mystery here...Given the predisposition of the average Alaskan woman to pump out kids like some sort of evil clown car, why is your state so fucking empty? Are you people eating your young? Is there something we here in the lower 48 need to know about?
Or does the place just smell really bad, come the spring thaw?
These are horrible questions, I know, but they must be asked. God knows the rest of the world is filling up with primates, and maybe you people have the solution. It's not like we don't need it, hell, Arizona is filling up with yahoos, from mid-state South. Our water table is dropping something like 18 inches a year, and the only response the state has is to blame illegal immigrants, and to tell us that Jesus has a plan. It's like living in Jonestown, only there's no money in the budget for Koolaid.
It's awful, Alty...Every ten minutes we are hit with a fresh wave of stupidity from the state capitol up in Phoenix. For example, the state legislature's buildings had to be sold off. This might imply that the brilliant & scared "no revenue" taxation plan might have a teensy flaw in it.
When pressed on it, the legislature babbles some more shit about illegal aliens, abortion, and death panels. They won't shut up. It's fucking horrible. How do you bastards up in Palinland deal with this sort of shit? I'm assuming it has to be just as bad up there, especially given that you have even weirder churches than we do. I mean, all we have to deal with is Calvinists and Mormons. You guys have that one Baptist preacher dude who used to burn witches in Africa, right? The one Palin was always gushing about? If that's so, then you must have at least as much stupidity floating around as we do. How do you deal with it? Is there any way to shut these fuckers up?
And you can tell that crazy preacher of yours to stay where the fuck he's at, too. You can't burn witches down here on account of the fact that they're soaked in patchouli. The fuckers would go off like a bomb, and there'd be nasty 6" long smoldering pubes landing all over everything like Goddamn silly string...And NOBODY wants that, not even the Baptists, filthy perverts though they may be.
No, we have a handle on religion down here, and it isn't what the Calvinists think it is. No, it's Tucson itself, a malign God that keeps people from leaving until they can be horribly mangled in a Tucson Moment.
Tucson, though, seems to smile on Discordians, as we make life just a little more fucked up for everybody else. We don't DO anything to the retards, we just walk up with our bare faces hanging out and tell them The Truth™. For this we are branded heretics and commies, but that bothers us not. We don't fear these people, Alty, for we can walk faster than a mobility scooter...That, and the fact that no matter how outraged and pious they feel, they can be distracted by a bag of powdered donuts long enough for us to make good our escape.
Scratch all that bad shit I said about Arizona, Alty. This place is heaven on Earth, and it sings to us. It sings songs of failure & doom, and the bourbon never runs out...At least not at The Meetrack, where The Dirty Boys from Grant Road get their monkey on in public, and stomp the mortal shit out of people who make the mistake of talking politics or religion.
And it sings of bad car accidents and parking tickets and SWAT teams accidentally gulf war vets 71 times in 13 seconds. It sings to us of ancient, open mine shafts that collect the bodies of those who don't watch where they walk. It sings to us of the beautiful, bright, pitiless sun that smashes us flat onto the concrete, helplessly shitting our pants while we squirm on the griddle that is concrete in Arizona.
Mommy loves us, Alty. Mommy loves us to death.
And she'll love you, even if you choose to stay up in your frozen tundra hell, because what most people don't know is that Tucson is everywhere. Everyone lives in Tucson, and nobody lives anywhere else. It's just easier to see it when you're here instead of there.
So those aren't blackflies, Alty. Those are just the local manifestation of love that Tucson has for us all.
Okay for now,
Dok
Those are all :lulz: + :mittens:
Quote from: Doktor Howl on July 19, 2011, 02:02:01 PM
Dear Alty,
I am hoping you can read this through the clouds of black flies that infest your state, which is no doubt a plague sent by an angry God. It's not like you weren't courting divine retribution up there, being so close to the Godless Russkies...Which I am told can be seen from Wasilla on a clear day, if your porch is high enough.
Thinking about it, there's no reason that the 7-headed beasties described in Revelation shouldn't drag themselves out of the ocean in Alaska. Of course, they'd have to send a bunch of them, as the first few will be mistaken for walruses or some shit, and clubbed to death by the locals, for fuel oil and their hides.
It occurs to me that this is yet another advantage of living in a land-locked state. We have no beaches, and are thus safe from the ravings of St John of Patmos. Say what you will about his religion, that man could write. I'd put him second only to Cicero when it comes to foot-stomping, bleacher-pounding, ass-kicking ranting.
Whoops. Got sidetracked there for a moment. Back on to the iniquities and sins of your so-called "state". You see, there's something of a mystery here...Given the predisposition of the average Alaskan woman to pump out kids like some sort of evil clown car, why is your state so fucking empty? Are you people eating your young? Is there something we here in the lower 48 need to know about?
Or does the place just smell really bad, come the spring thaw?
These are horrible questions, I know, but they must be asked. God knows the rest of the world is filling up with primates, and maybe you people have the solution. It's not like we don't need it, hell, Arizona is filling up with yahoos, from mid-state South. Our water table is dropping something like 18 inches a year, and the only response the state has is to blame illegal immigrants, and to tell us that Jesus has a plan. It's like living in Jonestown, only there's no money in the budget for Koolaid.
It's awful, Alty...Every ten minutes we are hit with a fresh wave of stupidity from the state capitol up in Phoenix. For example, the state legislature's buildings had to be sold off. This might imply that the brilliant & scared "no revenue" taxation plan might have a teensy flaw in it.
When pressed on it, the legislature babbles some more shit about illegal aliens, abortion, and death panels. They won't shut up. It's fucking horrible. How do you bastards up in Palinland deal with this sort of shit? I'm assuming it has to be just as bad up there, especially given that you have even weirder churches than we do. I mean, all we have to deal with is Calvinists and Mormons. You guys have that one Baptist preacher dude who used to burn witches in Africa, right? The one Palin was always gushing about? If that's so, then you must have at least as much stupidity floating around as we do. How do you deal with it? Is there any way to shut these fuckers up?
And you can tell that crazy preacher of yours to stay where the fuck he's at, too. You can't burn witches down here on account of the fact that they're soaked in patchouli. The fuckers would go off like a bomb, and there'd be nasty 6" long smoldering pubes landing all over everything like Goddamn silly string...And NOBODY wants that, not even the Baptists, filthy perverts though they may be.
No, we have a handle on religion down here, and it isn't what the Calvinists think it is. No, it's Tucson itself, a malign God that keeps people from leaving until they can be horribly mangled in a Tucson Moment.
Tucson, though, seems to smile on Discordians, as we make life just a little more fucked up for everybody else. We don't DO anything to the retards, we just walk up with our bare faces hanging out and tell them The Truth™. For this we are branded heretics and commies, but that bothers us not. We don't fear these people, Alty, for we can walk faster than a mobility scooter...That, and the fact that no matter how outraged and pious they feel, they can be distracted by a bag of powdered donuts long enough for us to make good our escape.
Scratch all that bad shit I said about Arizona, Alty. This place is heaven on Earth, and it sings to us. It sings songs of failure & doom, and the bourbon never runs out...At least not at The Meetrack, where The Dirty Boys from Grant Road get their monkey on in public, and stomp the mortal shit out of people who make the mistake of talking politics or religion.
And it sings of bad car accidents and parking tickets and SWAT teams accidentally gulf war vets 71 times in 13 seconds. It sings to us of ancient, open mine shafts that collect the bodies of those who don't watch where they walk. It sings to us of the beautiful, bright, pitiless sun that smashes us flat onto the concrete, helplessly shitting our pants while we squirm on the griddle that is concrete in Arizona.
Mommy loves us, Alty. Mommy loves us to death.
And she'll love you, even if you choose to stay up in your frozen tundra hell, because what most people don't know is that Tucson is everywhere. Everyone lives in Tucson, and nobody lives anywhere else. It's just easier to see it when you're here instead of there.
So those aren't blackflies, Alty. Those are just the local manifestation of love that Tucson has for us all.
Okay for now,
Dok
SO GOOD.
To a friend and fellow traveller on Capitol Grilling, having received in the mail an autographed copy of his book and his latest music CD. The guy is a real gentleman of the old school, and quite the artist.
Walker,
I received your book and your CD, and I shall start on them both tonight. This comes as a welcome relief, as I have found myself in a bit of a rut, reading-wise, and the music on the radio has become a horrible blur of Taylor Swift and emo-tard garbage that fills me with hate.
From what I gather from the dust cover, your book is a story of murder and rolling failure up in the mountains. Needless to say, I can identify with the subject matter, given the city I live in. We know all about murder and awful behavior up here, sir. This is an awful place, after all, and it's good to think that we are not alone in this...If only in a fictional setting.
I do not exaggerate, Walker. Tucson is, many believe, a sentient thing that hates humanity, and prevents people from leaving, at least until they have a "Tucson Moment", which typically involves horrible car accidents or being stabbed or shot and then tossed in a dumpster (We have very polite & civic-minded murderers here, and they don't like to litter) for the cash in your pocket, or just the mere fact that the person doing the stabbing has a head full of spiders.
I don't find this particularly offensive, at least not in the way I find Phebe offensive. Tucson can't help being what it is, while talking with Phebe is sort of like having Adolf Eichmann jam his head out of his grave and start yapping at you, while it bobbles around on his broken neck like a dashboard Jesus.
Sure, I know she's trolling, but only in the sense that she knows it outrages people. She really believes that garbage, and she's a prime example of the degeneration of America. People like her keep WalMart in business, and are the reason that the KKK still exists after a century and a half.
We here in Tucson can at least brag that we are free of that nonsense. Our muggers are equal-opportunity, and if you aren't on the North side, you can go for miles without seeing any signs of racism. I live on the North side, of course, mostly because it's a target-rich environment, where I can do science to people without any sticky moral issues.
Phoenix is, of course, another story entirely...But it is well known for not having a soul, and we in Tucson prefer to just pretend that it doesn't exist. In any case, God beats the hell out of them with dust storms on a regular basis, so living there is its own punishment.
On the other hand, they're only 90 miles away, so it's little wonder that we spend a lot of time drunk & mean, hopped up on peyote, and/or driving around town looking for trouble. I realize that's normal for certain age groups, but most of the people I know are in our 30s and 40s. Kids get fucked up because they don't know any better. We get fucked up because we have no choice.
But then the sun goes down and the night comes up, and we all remember why we live here, Walker. We jump in our Jeeps and go screaming down Drachmann or Congress, looking for that one thing we still have that none of the rest of America™ even remembers it ever had...Saturday Night.
On Saturday Night, there are no politics, no horrible fucking recession, no know-nothing teabaggers, and no tomorrow. Our Saturday night is a collection of bad driving, irresponsible firearm use, crass behavior, and laughing until you can't stop screaming. No other town in America lets people get away with doing Saturday Night properly...They all get excited about things like property damage, gross bodily harm, and noise codes.
We can't let ourselves worry about that sort of shit, though, and Saturday Night doesn't always have to happen on the 7th day of the week. It can happen anytime, and to anybody, if they're serious about having a good time.
All the Franks and the Catzes and the Phebes stop mattering on Saturday Night, and by 7:30 PM we don't even know who the president is. All that crap goes right out the window, and do you know what? Life goes on...Which leads many of us to believe that none of that crap is either necessary or meaningful.
You and I don't need the democrats to keep us free, or the republicans, or the drooling idiots that infest the teabaggers. No, we understand that freedom is a state of mind, that Martin Luther King Jr was more free in that jail in Birmingham than anyone else in America was, in their own homes.
Some people say that all of the above is a juvenile state of mind, or even downright criminal. But I'll tell you this...The wrong sort of people may complain about us while we drive past, but each and every one of them wishes they were the ones puking out the passenger window, instead of walking their stupid little dog and being perpetually nice. Polite. Law-abiding.
Because that's what America is all about, right? All of those freedoms and the (supposed) aims of the various collections of retarded thieves we call "political parties" are geared towards having a good time. If not, then what the hell is the point?
Well, must sign off. Knuckles and the boys are coming around in a few minutes, and we're off to wreak havoc at the American Legion. Those people have absolutely no sense of humor, and it's time we showed them a better way.
Okay for now,
Dok
Dok did you ever get my reply?
Quote from: Khara on July 26, 2011, 08:22:07 PM
Dok did you ever get my reply?
If I did, it's at the house somewhere. I haven't seen it. I'll ask Enabler.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on July 26, 2011, 08:27:14 PM
Quote from: Khara on July 26, 2011, 08:22:07 PM
Dok did you ever get my reply?
If I did, it's at the house somewhere. I haven't seen it. I'll ask Enabler.
Let me know, I mailed it the day after I received your letter!!
Quote from: Doktor Howl on July 26, 2011, 07:50:51 PM
We can't let ourselves worry about that sort of shit, though, and Saturday Night doesn't always have to happen on the 7th day of the week. It can happen anytime, and to anybody, if they're serious about having a good time.
The whole thing was fucking awesome, and needs to go in a compilation of Tuscon lore. This line is classic.
Quote from: Nigel on July 26, 2011, 11:16:30 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on July 26, 2011, 07:50:51 PM
We can't let ourselves worry about that sort of shit, though, and Saturday Night doesn't always have to happen on the 7th day of the week. It can happen anytime, and to anybody, if they're serious about having a good time.
The whole thing was fucking awesome, and needs to go in a compilation of Tuscon lore. This line is classic.
Thanks. I'm having an attack of ill-discipline, and I can't seem to stay on a schedule, so I'm just writing to whomever jump-starts my brain. My senators, for example, have the text equivalent of a burning bag of shit in their inboxes.
:lulz: that warms my heart, it really does
Dok, are you opposed to getting more than one reply from a person?
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on July 27, 2011, 06:49:22 AM
Dok, are you opposed to getting more than one reply from a person?
Not at all. I'll be responding to your response, as a matter of fact.
Did my letter make it to you?
Quote from: Nigel on July 27, 2011, 09:59:36 PM
Did my letter make it to you?
I just finished reading it, actually. AMAZING. :lulz:
How'd you stay in 3rd person that long without wearing a big black dress?
Sent my response today.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on July 27, 2011, 11:13:46 PM
Quote from: Nigel on July 27, 2011, 09:59:36 PM
Did my letter make it to you?
I just finished reading it, actually. AMAZING. :lulz:
How'd you stay in 3rd person that long without wearing a big black dress?
Ha! I don't even remember. I was in a naturally altered state.
Did my letter ever make it?
Quote from: Khara on August 09, 2011, 03:45:20 AM
Did my letter ever make it?
Yep. Already told you.
I have to apologize--my reply is still not sent. I think I might have to just send installments since I'm being so picky about it.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on July 26, 2011, 08:27:14 PM
Quote from: Khara on July 26, 2011, 08:22:07 PM
Dok did you ever get my reply?
If I did, it's at the house somewhere. I haven't seen it. I'll ask Enabler.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on August 09, 2011, 03:47:00 AM
Quote from: Khara on August 09, 2011, 03:45:20 AM
Did my letter ever make it?
Yep. Already told you.
:?
I'm missing time and conversation somewhere..... Sorry!
Need this for other stuff.