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Messages - Richter

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Leln curates several books on Nigel at the less-well known library.  This poses several unique challenges.  Mainly, she has to keep the hordes of disaffected wannabes OFF the book (Since reading about Nigel and forming a poor imitation is much safer than asking Nigel how to be Nigel in person) 

Reading Nigel's name with too much interest tends to summon her, and there is inevitable splatter.

Nigel designed the dispatch program for Providence and southeaster Massachusetts EMS.  This should explain a few things.

Discordian Recipes / Re: Weapon X
« on: June 13, 2015, 02:35:15 am »
The flavor you want out of the lemon is the oil in the peel.  Use a potato peeler and try to get as much yellow, and as little white pith as you can.  Do not use a zester - it jsut shred the oil into the air, and not into your booze. 

I also tried something like what you described with straight vodka and ghost peppers.  nothing else.  It is a chemical weapon, not a drink, and I doubt anything will dilute it enough, ever.

Discordian Recipes / Re: Weapon X
« on: June 05, 2015, 02:41:21 am »
Spices behave WEIRD in alcohol - you get more of the basic flavor pulled out, and so cinamon can easily overpower a lot.  It's like drinking the cinamon challenge.

The recipe I posted may be pretty involved, but it does blance the flavors decently, and adds the sweet so you don't regret it AS much. 

Good luck, keep experimenting, and please tell us what you find!

I've noticed a bend away from what people are actually doing, and a shift to what's "Trending"

People stop talking about their lives and doings in favor of the latest funny meme, clickbait article, or point of outrage.  Facebook promotes these, and certainly slants posting order to them, because some make them advertising money.

Hence the plot is lost

And I look around the room and I wonder who is next.

Wrong question, perhaps.  I wonder HOW will the next one go?

Having had a stretch of far too much "nice" the past few months my subconscious decided I needed a bit of a wake up call.  Here are the highlights

1.  It's a dream about a Texan frackign magnate, gone to Russian to peddle his trade without pesky environmentalists interfering.  In a bid to prove the safety of his company's action he vows to live on only local water and produce.  It backfires, and he gets an aggressive form of flesh-eating cancer.  In a bout of obscure bargaiing behaviour, he donates all his money to the local baptist stadium church (that he imported), and hauls his rotting ass up every Sunday to be contrite and talk about what's happening to him.  (While the frack goes on).
For the first couple months, he's just sort of pink and a bit streamlined.  Then the serious amputations need to be done.  By the end, he's just a pink torso, hobbling in across the beige plush carpet on his stubs, pausing for the nurse to hose out a cavity with saline before he says his piece.

2.  Active role in this one - I'm heading the cleanup crew.  The ones that won't scream until we're off the job and leveling some podunk bar because HOW ELSE do we deal?  The project we're breaking in to was started by some turn of the 1900's "Exceptionalism" and "Mind over matter" nuts who were convinced that in a properly dire situation a well disciplined individual could put themselves into long - term hibernation.  To this end they've given a family of four the whitewashed details and sealed them into a makeshift funeral vault.  They've got a week's worth of food to "prepare", as they're supposed to work themselves into the proper calm mindstate, then they all lie down dressed in their Sunday best to be awoken peacefully when the test is over - in three months. 

It's two weeks in.  The jackoffs responsible are hauled off to be beaten and dumped in the river.  We get to open the vault, and make the snap judgement about if whatever is left inside needs to be "helped" or "liquidated".

We crack it - only the children are left.  Sharp-toothed and feral, they're been eating whatever they can.  Mercifully, theses are just brown dried husks on the beds now.  The whole place, done up like one of the nice parts of "The King in Yellow", is coated with a fine, even layer of horrible shit.  The kids lunge for us, and we can't talk them calm.  It's workaday watching yourself and you can't blink as you have to get five men and boot on the head of each to keep them down.  You're yelling, hoping to communicate while calling for the docs and the drugs (for who?), and just closing your eyes to stop seeing this seems like a GREAT idea, but you're working (and your eyelids AREN'T - treacherous fucks), and kind of on auto now so you just keep seeing it. 

Things are looking up, looking down.  -R

Well....there's the compremisis skit TGRR saw coming 5 years ahead of time.

A Food Babe shirt. :crankey: He deserves what's coming to him. Not to even MENTION socks and sandals.

Yes.  It smacks of pedophilia.  And the socks/sandals shit...   :madbanana:

I am actually straining in my seat to read the next bit  :lulz:

I don't think that will be until Tuesday, because I have a thing with Jenn.

I'll pass the time.  Need to carry out a contract on the wild hair off "Off-gridder" cousin, and survive a family wedding.  If anything goes south Leln will fill in details.

I am actually straining in my seat to read the next bit  :lulz:

"Like" a hero?


I won't tell them where you kept the sunglasses.  It would ruin the magic.

Shit blowing up behind you, theme music playing, the whole fuckin' bit.

I know I'm awful.  When people tell me I'm awful I support them.  I am a Holy Man TM, and supporting the useful delusions of other is page 1 shit.  I show them more awful too. 

Hence why I have some damn quiet and good company.  Only the RIGHT kind hang out around an awful person.

In the Netherlands there is a tradition of boys sticking their fingers into things to prevent the land from flooding. 

These young lads stand their stoically, even as the unclean inhabitants of the deep knaw off their digits and go off to thank mother hydra for the human mcnuggets.

LMNO on the other hand, is specifically asked NOT to do anything should he find such holes.  There are references to him plugging one such leak with a nontraditional member, and traumatizing the deep ones.  There was also the time that he chose to bung up the hole with the trousers, and strut away like a hero.

He waxed his balls for that.

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