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Topics - trix

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Ok apparently I don't get to sleep yet, because I just found out I was supposed to remember to do something before I go to bed.  But I don't really want to, so while I stay up even longer under the excuse that I have something to do, allow me to avoid getting to it by making a thread dedicated to everyone's favorite Mitch Hedberg joke, just because.

I'll start.

As an adult, I’m not supposed to go down slides. So if I end up at the top of a slide, I have to act like I got there accidentally. “How’d I get up here, god damnit?! I guess I have to slide down.”

ddate is a command-line utility that for a very long time came standard with most Linux distributions as part of the "binutils" package, and when executed displays the current discordian date.  Recently, one particular upstream maintainer of the binutils package decided this very tiny 12k utility was not worthy of inclusion and removed it, despite a rather large amount of negative feedback and absolutely no benefit to doing so.  This prompted many many bug reports and other bitching, due to many people (myself included) using ddate in various scripts to various effect.

Is anyone else annoyed at this?  I mean sure, some distros handle it themselves, either by adding a separate "ddate" package into the repository or by using an older version of binutils or even by patching the upstream binutils to reinclude ddate.

But still, I either have to revert to an older binutils, rewrite about a dozen scripts per computer in each of the 16 PC's in my cluster, or wait until each of my OS's add ddate directly to the repo and download it.  Or do a fuckload of patching.  Not the end of the world, but an annoyance for no good reason whatsofuckingever.

Speaking of which, on an unrelated note, I have a ton of decent computers (average power = Core2Duo cpu with dedicated ATI HD 2400 Pro video card and 3GB RAM) that I got for free, by replacing all of them at my brother's work with newer models and being gifted the old ones for my trouble.  Anyone that pays for shipping can have one, for free.  I'll even toss in a keyboard and monitor, though I am low on mice so you'll need one of those.  First come first serve until I run out of extras, have about 8 I'm not using right now, and another 5-10 coming next week.

Anyway back on topic.  What the fuck.  The guy that changed binutils responded to all the complaints with (and I'm paraphrasing strongly here) "Yeah well I don't use it so everyone else can go fuck themselves".  I'd congratulate him on some very excellent trolling, if I believed that was his true purpose, but I think it's more likely that he just really is a prick.

No real point to this post, most of you wont give one whit of a shit, I guess I just need to vent my frustration before I start rewriting some scripts.

Principia Discussion / PD as a Discordia
« on: July 14, 2014, 02:34:15 am »
This might come off as pretentious and stupid.
That might be because I am pretentious and stupid.


The way I see it, Discordia comes in millions of flavors, but only three real scopes.  And what I mean by scopes is that, on the one end of the scale, we are all Popes.  We have EVERYBODY'S Discordia, even in the modern BIP interpretation where (whether an individual knows it or not) we are all in our own little cell in the BIP, even if we don't see it or have other names for it.  Then, on the other end of the scale, we have the INDIVIDUAL'S Discordia, AKA, MY Discordia.  Which is better than YOUR Discordia and EVERYBODY'S Discordia because it is specific to me as an individual Mildly Intelligent Pretend Agent of My Own Destiny.  Between the two, there's a middle scope, the "Stuck Apart" Discordia.  OUR Discordia you might call it.  This includes the Cabal level, Forum level, and Community level takes on Discordia.

And, obviously, the further you are from EVERYBODY'S Discordia the more exclusive the party becomes.  Of course, there's the fewest number of EVERYBODY'S Discordias and the greatest number of MY Discordias, so anyone interested can still connect at all three scopes to Discordians with close enough interpretations for meaningful discourse.  I myself am part of the PD-ZWZM-BIP-TtC "EVERYBODY'S" Discordia at the left end, this forum and a local Cabal in the middle, and a version of life in MY Discordia exclusive to my gf and I, on the other end.

I'm not sure if that makes sense or where I'm really going with this.  I guess I just find it an interesting train of thought.

Also I think that the whole scale including the extreme "ALL POPES" end implements its own filters to repel those Discordians that are better off sticking a bit aparter.  Yes I know aparter isn't a word.  The PD is probably the first filter most encounter, and you have to have a certain level of tolerance for humor and/or silliness to ride that ride.  Every collection of Discordians I've encountered seems to have these filters, and the filters are always a bit different.

I don't know.  Somebody come in here and finish my thought please, because I seem unable to take it anywhere

I could always use a few extra tricks to whip out when the mood needs more giggle.  Maybe you could too.

Feel free to contribute.

Here's what I've come up with in the last 45 seconds:

1) Write down the word flatulafartipoopy and have someone pronounce it out loud.

2) Quote Mitch Hedberg.

3) With a straight face, take off your right shoe, then your sock. Ball your sock up, and stuff it into your pants to make your crotch bulgier.  Extra points for doing this on an elevator full of people. Extra extra points if you do this and are female.

4) Silly impersonations

5) Draw a large smiley face on a peice of paper, fold it up, and get into character as a Secret Agent.  Stealthily pass the note to someone as if they are also an Agent and should be expecting it, then take off running while they unfold the paper, as if it's going to explode.


Meet Russell George. Russell was driving Stott Street one Sunday night last year, when he noticed a police van driving fast and recklessly.
The van was swerving and turned into oncoming traffic.

“At this point I was concerned about the safety of other road users,” self-employed George told The Witness.

“He suddenly jammed on his brakes and came to a complete stop.”

“I got out of my car and went towards him and I asked him if he knew what he was doing. He started his car and carried on driving,” he said.

Continuing to drive recklessly, the policeman turned into Logan Road and came to a stop at the Howard Road intersection.
George decided it would be best to call the police. He was told the police would be there shortly.

“After five minutes, no one had arrived. So I jumped out of my car and I approached the driver’s side and asked him to come out. He looked at me and I could smell that he had been drinking.

“I asked him again, and he refused.

“I then grabbed his keys, pulled him out and locked him in the back of his own van,” George said.

He added that the police van was badly damaged, as if it had been involved in an accident.
Witnesses said that the officer who’d been locked in the back of the van began crying.

RPG Ghetto / Magic the Gathering - Kustom Kards
« on: May 11, 2014, 05:54:19 am »
My friends and I play a custom version of MtG we invented called the Hunt.  This game requires 5+ people, and we play it every other night or more because we are addicts.

Our version has a bunch of custom tweaks to fit our playstyle, but the one relevant to this thread is that prior to each game, we pull out a stack of custom made Hunt Cards containing each of our faces, and deal them out face down.  Whoever's card you get is your "target", and all spells, attacks, enchantments, or anything that uses the word "target" can ONLY be played against your specific target.  If you kill your target you get 8 life and the Hunt Cards are collected, the dead person's is removed, and the remainder are re-dealt.  There's other little tweaks that make it work very smoothly that we've added over the last decade or so, but the purpose of this specific thread is not really about the Hunt itself, but about the custom cards we make.

Here are some examples.

So anyway I make all these myself using GIMP, then I print them onto special ultra-thin film paper, take real official FOIL Magic cards, remove the film paper they glue to the FOIL card stock with the ink on it, and glue the new design to it with special glue.  The result, a very high quality counterfeit MtG card with custom faces.

The point of this thread is if anyone is interested in their own card, put up a pic you want me to use and whenever I get around to it I might make you a badass card for the low low price of free.  And if you want the fully printed and counterfeit card that could go into an actual deck, I charge $10 (USD) flat fee and ship it in good bubble wrap envelopes.  I also take bitcoin.

Anyway I just thought it'd be interesting to make some PDers into MtG cards.  I reserve the right to invent the type of card and text on it, unless of course you are paying me, then it's your card your way.  In either case you choose the color(s) though.

 - trix

PS.  In case you are wondering, The Bearded One is me.

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Roommate of the month
« on: November 24, 2011, 01:37:14 pm »
Most awesome roommate seeks same.

Konichiwa bitches. Are you looking for the most kick-ass fucking roommate that ever lived? If so, look no further. You fucking found him. I'm a 25-year-old professional marketing agent with experience at bad-ass companies in New York Fucking City. That's right! What you know about experience? I graduated from Auburn University in Alabama, and moved to NYC at the ripe, tender age of 22. After deciding that New York was a stinky shit-hole, I moved back to Alabama to cultivate more professional experience. Why? So I can make millions of dollars and not have to post shit like this on Craigslist.

It goes on... and on.  I dunno, this guy sounds like the perfect roommate.  Or the biggest bullshitter ever.

A study has found that fox news viewers are less informed than people who watch no news at all.

Fox News viewers are less informed than people who don't watch any news, according to a new poll from Fairleigh Dickinson University.

The poll surveyed New Jersey residents about the uprisings in Egypt and the Middle East, and where they get their news sources. The study, which controlled for demographic factors like education and partisanship, found that "people who watch Fox News are 18-points less likely to know that Egyptians overthrew their government" and "6-points less likely to know that Syrians have not yet overthrown their government" compared to those who watch no news.

In further news, Fox News viewers remain uninformed about this study, so nothing changes.

I'm looking for advice, and since I know that there is at least one person here (ECH) with saltwater in the veins, I'm thinking this might be an okay place to ask.

I don't know much about boats, ships, yachts, and the like.  I've never even sailed before.  I haven't been lucky enough to know anyone that can afford a boat.  Yet, for some odd reason I've never been able to put my finger on, I've been obsessed with boats for years and years.  Maybe it's the dream to get away from it all, or maybe I've just seen too many movies.  Either way, when I enrolled into college, I did so with the intent to learn to build boats, but also with a big interest in computers and electronics.  However, it's recently occurred to me (two years later) that I don't know much about boats, and dedicating years to an end goal involving something I have only internet-knowledge of, is kind of stupid.  Further, lately, I've been hatching an idea involving the things I am studying, that sounds really good in my head, but without knowing wtf I'm talking about, could be a really stupid idea.  Hence, this thread.

My idea is this.  I am double majoring in electronic engineering, and naval architecture.  These are generally very separate majors, but my idea is to combine them.  I want to implement advanced onboard computer systems, with appropriate software, into boats or ships that I design and build.  I've spent many hours over the last few years looking up the systems on boats and ships, and what they use for navigation and the like.  It seems to me, and please correct me if I'm wrong, that ships still use a lot of old ways of doing things, and could benefit quite a bit from advanced computer systems.  Imagine a bluewater boat, fully equipped with onboard computer systems, sensors, GPS (the good kind), etc, tapped into all of the systems on the ship.  With well-written software to take full advantage.  Imagine an operating system on the computer, using lots of sensors of various types, to tell you when you have a leak, keep track of what level your fresh water tank is at, how long at current usage levels it will last, how much gas you have, the integrity of the hull/pipes/sewage/engine/etc, etc etc.  A computer that could handle most navigation for you.  One connected to weather systems, where you could input your destination and it plans a route (plus a few alternatives) based on weather, traffic, etc.  Basically, make this thing as smart and useful as possible.

This would be a LOT of work, require a whole bunch of sensors and cameras, and would have the greatest advantage on a boat built and designed to be integrated with a system like this.  Sort of like a sea-going Enterprise.

How far fetched does this idea seem?

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / ImprovEverywhere
« on: November 06, 2011, 06:20:20 pm »
Anyone heard of these guys?  I've been reading missions they do, which are similar to GASMs, and quite clever and effective.

I sense a lot of inspiration in these people.

My favorite, so far, is Moebius, where they replay a seemingly ordinary sequence of events in a Starbucks, over and over, as if some random people just happen to be caught in a time loop.  Now THAT is a mindfuck.

Also, I like LOOK UP MORE, where they take over a building across from a park and put on an impromptu window performance, surprising a lot of people at the park below.

Seeing a lot of the missions they do is very inspiring, and is a nice kick-in-the-butt to get my cabal a bit more active.

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / ATTN: NIGEL
« on: November 03, 2011, 01:36:50 am »
I hear you're having a shitty day.  That sucks.  We all have them.

So I made you a fread to cheer you up!!

However, as you may have noticed, I am a one-wit-wonder.  So, instead of boring you with my own tripe, I will link you to OTHER FUNNY SHIT ON THE INTERBUTTS!

First, I bring you a hilarious prank call.  I first heard this one on a radio station I used to listen to when I was sentenced to three years in Florida.

Second, I bring you the Impossible Mario Level.  Where, basically, some guy gets drunk or something and tries to beat the hardest fan made level of the first Mario I have ever encountered.

Finally, I bring you a picture of my embarrassing tattoo.  So the next time I piss you off, which is almost guaranteed to happen if this thread hasn't done it by itself, you have more ammo to use to pick on me for.  Also, I find the tatt funny, so maybe you will chuckle.  If that isn't enough ammo, I am a Juggalo!  :eek:  Yes, for real.

Anyway I hope that cheers you up.  It certainly relieved a bit of my own boredom and tedium from this project I am working on, the details of which I wont bore you with.

Discordian Recipes / The poor [wo]man's paradise.
« on: November 02, 2011, 09:20:15 pm »
I couldn't think of a good short title to better describe the topic.  Suggestions welcome.

Sometimes I am low or out of food and need to scrounge up something to eat from what is available.  This leads to odd experimentation.  Some of which turns out great, others, well, not so much.

So, this here is an advice thread.  Post some of the types of things you have available, and I or a quicker, probably more qualified spag will suggest things to make from it.


Cans of corn, spinach, peas
noodles of various types and rice
refried beans, baked beans, chili beans.
tons of seasonings and condiments of all the usual kinds
eggs, cheese, lettuce, bread, milk, butter, tortilla shells

My recommendation:
Bean and cheese burritos!
Heat refried beans, season to taste, I recommend chili powder and garlic, if available, perhaps some pepper spices if available.
add cheese, lettuce.

Chili noodle surprise!
Heat refried beans, season as above.
cook noodles with 2 tbsp butter; drain, but not quite completely, leave em wet.
mix noodles and beans, melt some cheese into there.
make spicy.
Add a some milk if extra creaminess is desired.

Of course, I have weird taste.

So, if you have X to choose from, but don't know what to make with it, POST!

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / ATTN: TGRR
« on: November 02, 2011, 01:40:12 am »

First, you were dead when I got here.  For that, fuck you.  Seriously.  How fucking DARE you rot in the goddamn ground while I was busy shitflinging with the board members, privy to only hints and echoes of the smiting I would have received were you still alive.

Unfortunately, I've allowed advice and rational heads talk me into softening my tone lately.  That shit has begun to become boring, however.  So, here I am poking your rotting brain with a stick, now that it shows signs of life.  Or perhaps, signs of death.

You see, I am on to you.  I figured you the fuck out.  You are NOT the Great Reverend Roger of days gone, out to burn the eyes and minds of whatever unlucky primate stumbles across your pit of hell-inspired rage and torment.  That motherfucker is still dead.  I've been reading your tripe lately, and I just don't feel it.  I had hoped, upon your underplayed rise from the grave, to witness the kind of boiling hatred and great and terrible wrath that those who were present to behold speak of, either in whispers or not at all.  But I don't.  You aren't the motherfucker you claim to be.  YOU NEVER CAME BACK.  You, sir, are a mother fucking ZOMBIE.  And as you post your watered down flickers of mild angst, only barely tinged with the flavor of the towering temper you once had, I find myself offended by the lingering stench of your pretension.

So I've decided to wake you the fuck up.  That's right, you sad little monster, I am going to pull a Dr. Frankenstein and pound you and shock you and jolt the living shit out of you, right here in this very thread, until your black little heart explodes in your chest, your wilted little moans turn into real screams of rage, and the verbal fucking killing spree begins.

Why would I do this?  Why do I want to unleash the beast that once was?  Because we fucking NEED you.  The SCIENCE of Dok Howl is empty without the RAGE of TGRR helping to direct his experiments.  The DISTURBING WIT and POINTED LOGIC of the Dark Empress flits around aimlessly without the FOCUSSED HATRED of TGRR bringing the tools and fools to the surface to concentrate on.  I could go on, but in short, without the appalling horror that you bring to the table, THE MOTHER FUCKING GREYFACES MULTIPLY!

So, how to revive you.  First, I invite you to watch this video as a primer.
I believe it needs no comment.

Second, I send you to the blog of this guy.  Why?  He needs you.  All over his blog he is BEGGING for the REAL TGRR to come and show him the light.  The light of the flame.  Give him what he so desperately is in need of.

What?  You thought I'd start you off easy?  Fuck you.  I'm not about to link to some evangelist bullshit you've read a hundred times, some easy-to-defeat whiny bitch so you can munch on his brains with minimal effort.

That is a suggestion though.  To save me a little effort.  Why should I toss my own opinions at you?  You know you can't refute those anyway, so go chew on that blog for awhile.

Lastly, in case the above is ineffective, I'm going to show you a mirror.  If the sight of your own crumbling form goesn't galvanize you into a frothing terror, nothing will.  What do I mean?  Your pussy.  Yes, you have one.  I'm not sure if you did before, but somewhere down in that grave your body got knotted and twisted and beaten and now you are wearing a huge gaping pussy right on your mother fucking forehead.  Yeah, I said it.  I lurked your past posts.  I saw the way you stalked around dragging your giant granite balls on the ground.  What the fuck happened?  This squeaky little zombie I see now is so QUIET.  So CIRCUMSIZED.  So.... proper.  There is a goddamn fucking mass protest happening AND YOU NEVER FUCKING RANTED ABOUT IT.  What the fuck?  Maybe you haven't had time since you were dug up to look around, but you've missed some things.  There's a guy pretending to be a wizard posting all over the board.  Two old trolls have came and went.  Apple talk is turning into I BOUGHT SHOES THE OTHER DAY AND THEY DONT FIT WOE IS ME.  It's fucking called THE WEATHER CHANNEL FORUM.  You were once the balance to this insanity.  You helped bring the fucking CHAOS to the mundane.  LOOK AT WHAT YOUR ABSENCE HAS DONE!  LOOK AT WHAT YOU HAVE BECOME!  STAND THE FUCK UP AND RANT MOTHER FUCKER!!!

TL;DR: Welcome back, TGRR.  Nice to finally meet you.

 - trix,
didn't proofread this at all.

All I wanted was a taco.

Where's my keys?  Oh in my pocket already.  Got my cigs? Yup. A light? Yup. Okay. Put on my hat and my shoes, pull open the door.  Fuckin old broken stairs, have to go down carefu-- shit! Forgot my money on the dresser.  Grumble as I turn around to get them.

Outside, trying to start the van.  Fucking ancient peice of shit. Rumble rumble, die.  Rumble, die.  Rumble rumble, roar!  There we go.  I suddenly like my loud ass van again.  It's surprisingly reliable, all things considered.

Okay, I take a left here and then-

Mouth gaping open, I watch the speeding car that had swerved wildly to avoid hitting me.  Watched in awe as it went right through the guardrail and toppled off the bridge.  Quickly, I pull my van off to the side and run to the edge of the bridge, just in time to see the car sinking under.  I see the door open and the driver swim his way out, coming to the surface.  He watches his car sink, shaking his head.  I yell down, ask if there's anyone else in the car, and if he's okay.  He looks up at me, confirms himself as the only occupant.  And yes he is fine thank you very much.

He swims to the shore as I make my way around the bridge to see if I can help.  He is surprisingly calm.  He tells me the engine had suddenly died, but the car kept rolling as if in neutral.  He said he pushed the brakes and they weren't working at all.  He stomped hard on them and they suddenly kicked in, full force, causing him to lose control and go for a swim.

Shaking my head in sympathy, I ask if he'd like to use my phone.  He shakes his head and asks what the fuck was wrong with his car.

It was obvious, wasn't it?

His engine is flooded.

 - trix,
hopes he got revenge on the Rev.

Or Kill Me / Through the looking glass
« on: October 14, 2011, 05:12:37 pm »
Due to a comment pent made in another thread, about how it's good to know he's not the only one, inspiration struck.  You see, I've had mild PTSD for the majority of my life.  Not the kind of PTSD that is considered "by the book", but my own, special, snowflake kind.

Thing is, I often wonder if it's unique to me.  Because some of the symptoms were there before the trauma.  I find it hard to talk about stuff like this face to face with people, so I'm putting it here and tossing it out to you spags, in case my experience is not as unique as I think.  In all honesty, I rather hope it is not unique, and rather something others go through as well and just don't talk about.

What the fuck am I talking about?  The Rabbit Hole.  I've heard people describe themselves as having a "tenuous grasp on reality".  This sort of self-description is what makes me wonder if maybe I'm not the only one, as that totally sounds like me.  Ok enough qualifying, allow me to give it to you straight.

When I was 12, I was diagnosed with PTSD.  What I had, however, was blackouts.  I described it a bit in the other thread as a preface to a different story, but I want to flesh it out a bit more, here.  I spent two years staring at a wall from waking up to going to bed.  I am not going to bother covering the details of the why, but suffice it to say, I found this awful.  Imagine sitting in a wooden chair in an empty room completely devoid of stimuli.  Imagine staring at a blank wall.  Try staring at this wall, uninterrupted, for three hours.  If that doesn't drive you a little batty from boredom, then go ahead and imagine that for two years straight, 8am to 11pm.  This is what started it.  After a couple months, it became easier.  The time flew by faster and faster.  At some point, long after I stopped counting days, it hardly seemed any time at all.  I'd wake up, go to My Chair, stare at the wall, get kind of lost in thought, and before I knew it, time for bed.  It went from happening sometimes, making those the good days, to every day.

When I was freed from this, and brought to Wisconsin, I thought my punishment was over, and I could have a 'normal' life.  But the skipping of time did not stop.  It started with me missing school, with no intention to, never leaving the breakfast table.  I'd sometimes be in the bathroom for hours, just standing there, dick out, having peed hours ago.  When I did manage to get to school it was even worse.  Some teachers would get angry or think I was playing games.  People my age didn't understand at all, thought I didn't want to be friends and was missing all our plans on purpose.  Eventually, as I mentioned elsewhere, I was sent to an Institution for two years.

I did learn methods of partial control.  Music helped.  When I concentrated on music or stimulating movies and books, I could often avoid fading out.  But only certain music, certain movies, some books, worked.  And even the ones that worked, didn't always work.  Some things would only work the first time, and not again.  Some would only work when the "pulling" feeling was weak.  It was a bit chaotic.

That's what it felt like though, it felt like pulling, or maybe a bit like falling.  It felt like I was Alice, dangling over the rabbit hole and holding on as hard as I could.  Much of the time I was "here", in the world other people called the Real One.  But sometimes my grip would slip, or, being used to it, I'd willingly let myself fall.  Then I sank into the void.  But in the hole wasn't Wonderland.  It wasn't really anything.  At least, nothing I can ever remember.

I got myself out of the hospital by faking it.  I used the little methods I had, and a lot of willpower, to keep from fading out, and convince the doctors that it was there medications that were working.  At that point I was two years in and knew that place wasn't going to help me, and wasn't going to give up trying.

Pot helped too, back then.  My brother got me into it, and at first it was very helpful.  In fact, it was the first method I had that pretty much guaranteed no fading out for the duration.  Until I became a habitual user, then it started happening while stoned, too.

One day I ran away from home.  Being a giant chickenshit, however, I didn't go very far.  I ran away to the house of the one friend I had.  His name was Joe, and while he didn't understand my weirdness either, he was so happy to have a friend (he got picked on a lot) that he'd put up with anything.  He let me stay in his (carpeted, furnished) attic, where nobody but him ever went climbed up into.  It was there that I faced my blackouts head on.  I asked him to leave a bunch of food and soda and give me a couple days of peace.  I fell into the void, on purpose, with the decision to stay there.

I'm not sure how long it lasted, but hunger brought me out.  I wasn't tired, but I was very hungry.  It took me awhile to remember where I was and what I was doing.  Or even who I was.  This isn't like waking up from a dream.  Maybe it's like waking up from a coma?  I just know that at the end of each of these, it takes a few minutes (not a few seconds, minutes) to understand where I am, who I am, and what world this is.  Once I had that figured out, and remembered my purpose, I ate some food, then fell back into it.

I continued like this several times, until I was out of food and falling into it became difficult.  At the time I wasn't sure why, as it was never difficult to fall IN, only to stay OUT, before.  But, looking back, I think it was the knowledge that I didn't have to be here.  That I had a friend, and worried family (especially my mom, who lost three jobs, two houses, and had probably 25-30 ulcers from stress and worry over me, over the years), and school, and books I had not finished.  Whatever the case, that is when I gained control.

Years later, I still have control.  It's still there, somewhere in the background, though I only fall into it two or three times a year, when I am completely off guard and bored.

However, even when it's not an active threat like it used to be, it's presence is always there.  It feels like, that's my natural state.  Like my intrusion onto this world full of other people is the thing that's tenuous, and the void I fall into will be waiting for me when my grip slips for good.

I wonder if that is what death is like?

Has anyone else out there ever experienced anything like this?

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