Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.


Topics - Payne

Pages: 1 [2] 3 4 5 6
16

Fuckdamnit  :oops: :x

Yes, you fucked up. Again.

17
Propaganda Depository / NSFW WOMP Thread
« on: January 14, 2010, 08:09:27 pm »
Because the free market demanded it...














18
Today A Pixie was taken to the dentists and had an extraction done.

then she did demand Mittens and Nail Polish.

also- pictures from Pix's phone.

the shoes pix did not bring cos they wouldn't fit in her bag.

Snowman Syn welcoming Pix on her way up to Stonehaven

After DENTAL SURGERY she took this picture of a seagull shiteing on Rabbie Burns Heid. We were on our way to buy:

MITTENS! But not just mittens....

INSTANTLY CONVERT TO FUCKMITTENS FOR NO EXTRA COST!

Overall, Pixie handled the whole "TAKE TO DENTIST AND VANDALISE HER MOUTH" as a first date pretty well. The medications and such messed her up for sleep like, especially after I fed her soup and cut-up-sammiches (tiny triangles for side mouth chewage), and I ended up just falling asleep as well. Now we are both b0rked the circadian rhythm. I have not yet been punished for the whole incident. Now we are both awake, and Pixie has been hyper as all hell whenever she's not sleeping. Put the mittens on her and it's amplified all the way up to 11.


(x-posted from poee

19
Or Kill Me / It could be worse, right?
« on: December 25, 2009, 01:21:16 am »
You think that's gravity, do you? No son, that's the world sucking so hard that you're stuck to it like that bit of paper that clogs up the pointy end of your vacuum cleaner. This world is just so much busting your back cleaning a filthy manky house, top to bottom, just to find some fat ass parked in front of the television watching "How Clean Is Your House?" or "Grimefighters". They turn to you and say "See? It could be worse, right!" and you know as soon as your back is turned you're going to have to clean the god damn place again.

And then again. Forever.

Except it won't be forever. It'll just feel like it. No son, it's more like 80 years, give or take a few. In that time you'll be born, grow up, grow up some more, grow up some more (it takes a while, you just never notice how long it REALLY takes), do some menial factory schooling where you learn what it takes to "get by" in this world from school yard bullies to classroom bullies to bullies who you MUST tack a Mr. or Mrs. to the front of their name, then you go out and get yourself some menial factory job (possibly in a menial factory, but just as possible are Graphic Designer, Insurance Salesman or Postal Delivery Operative. All this and MORE could be yours for just 200 hours a month!) and then you stop working. And then you die. I mean, it could be worse, right? This is the plan people! Stick to the god damn plan!

Ah yes, the plan.

Now some would have you believe you are an oppressed minority. Some would have you believe you are the silent majority. They'd sell you your own dreams back to you to make a buck and make a name for themselves and all that Hollywood crap. I know you know the type. I know you have never been suckered by them. NEVER. You're too smart for that shit, right? Okay, so sometimes you have to fall back onto ideology, but everyone does that so it can't be all that bad. And sometimes you HAVE to decide between two evils, but hey that's just how the world is! So we're left here with imperfect people running imperfect Governments presiding over imperfect nations and spreading their shit around so that everyone who doesn't matter can take a bite, but it could be worse, am I right? LEMME HEAR AN 'ALLELUIA!

Praise the motherfucking Lord, asshole. Praise him, or sooooo help you God.

Now, I have no beef with God. He ain't never done nothing to me, and as long as it stays that way, we're solid. I DO have a problem with his lunatics though. Fuckers all up in my face leaving mental graffiti with their spiritual spray paint. You know, the kind of assbag who has no problem telling a newly bereaved mother that her child is going to hell. But hey, they have their free speech too! Too fucking right they do, but so do you Son and I ain't never seen you tear a strip out of this self righteous prick. So they've never actually tried to come and intimidate, cajole, harass and brainwash you and yours. They've never tried to bring hell upon you to show you the error of your ways. No sir, that's always one country, one state, one county, one town, one street over. If it's happening to other people, it could be worse, right? I mean the fuckers, if they had their way, wouldn't even let you know about gravity. They'd have you believe a tiny angel was holding you down or some shit. They'd never let you believe it was the world sucking so hard.

And so I leave you with some thoughts:

Play as hard as you can, work as little as possible to make it happen.

People in positions of power, believe in their power. You don't always have to.

Idealism before Ideology. If you think the world can be a better place DO something about it. Don't consult the fucking manual.

When you have a choice between 50 flavours of shit sandwich, that's not freedom. That's 50 flavours of shit, and everyone will demand you take a bite. Pack your own sandwiches.

You will never be able to defy gravity (that's how much the world sucks). You can however defy your own expectations, but only if you're willing to face up to the illusions they really are.

20
Propaganda Depository / In which I perform WRATH on various posters
« on: December 12, 2009, 03:59:58 pm »







21
Yes, I am going to be coming back here more now. I've been ignoring you all for a few weeks now, only reading threads linked to me in IRC and such. I needed a break.

I am not, at this time, in a position to tell you all what I've been mostly doing. Suffice it to say that it was good fun and worth it. I have also been attempting to redecorate my room.

I have done no writing, but I may have a rant or two to shit out later we shall see. No WOMPs either. I need to wait for either a faster connection or for photofuckit to stop sucking so hard at killing my minimal bandwidth.

Anything I MUST read?

22
Do you remember when word got out? They called it a leak. Some "unamed source" lifted the corner of the ragged and stained cloth that covered The Great Machine, and let this two-bit hack have a brief glimpse at the pulsating, grinding, filthy leviathan. It made the evening editions, as soon as the words were written down, they were given the hurry-up by the ranks of editors and copy-checkers. It was Good Shit.

There was the outrage on street corners, there was all that fear. On that nights news, talking heads argued back and forth over what it could mean. No consensus was found, there was no common ground, nothing could even be articulated. The hack hanged himself that night, or at least he was found hanged the next day. When he was buried, no one attended his funeral - personal effects were sold on eBay, his diaries making a lot of money for the first detective to the scene of his death. Your bid for them failed.

Sales of personal firearms, alcohol, tinned food, eco-friendly cars and guitar strings went up. There was a dip in the form of almost every leading sports star. I lost a bet to you. An unexpected peace broke out in the middle east, a week before the President was due to invite the leaders of Isreal and Palastine into the White House.

As time went by, we forgot. The Great Machine was no longer front page news. The talking heads had now turned on the President for his naivety regarding the middle east, which had just seen the bloodiest days of conflict in months - even years, according to some (even you). The hack's diaries were never read, at least with anything like the seriousness they deserved. A metal band in Illinois found some inspiration in them and had a minor hit, before creative differences ended their career.

In the bowels of The Facility, The Great Machine had a new seal on an almost, but not quite, inconsequential piston. The leak had been fixed with little fuss.

Do you remember?

23
Or Kill Me / Confessions of an Undiscovered Hero
« on: September 25, 2009, 10:26:55 pm »
I live in a world where I believe smoking a cigarette (a stimulant) relaxes me. I harbour a desire for a relationship I could have had, once, believing that it would be perfect now. I can feel in my bones that I am special - above all the rest of the people that populate my world. Only fate has stopped me from being recognised for it.

I live in a world where achievement is subject to a law of diminishing returns. To keep the same pace of success requires ever greater effort. Eventually, getting out of bed in the morning will be a victory. I idolise and despise victims in equal measure because I am a victim myself. I too have been ground down by a world that refuses to see me, but I'm better than those other victims because I know how much effort I put into each and every success.

I love my illusions. I love everything about them. I hated them to begin with because they were made by those "others", but I tailored them to fit me (another success! Seriously, you should read my C.V. sometime, it's a catalogue of unrecognised genius and heroism). I have total control over that which controls me, honest.

My opinions are the only ones that matter. That really matter. I like a bit of variation, but I block out everything that is too far removed from my own ideas. Far easier to label them immediately and file that shit away than to argue it down. I know I'm right already, and that this opposition is merely the "others" trying to break me down again. It's easier to continue watching TV shows that agree with me, and reading authors that say what I want them to say (I'd rather read myself, of course, but those lucky bastards got published despite being obviously inferior).

If only it wasn't so difficult to gain my successes. To gain that inspirational spark. To seize back my potential from those who oppose me. Come the day I am recognised for what I really am, I will grind the "others" faces in my previous indignities. All I have to do is wait here to be discovered...

24
I like the WOMP idea.  I'd leave the Intro and Attention Noobs thread stickied though.  I notice a lot of people do read the latter, often when they sign right up, so it seems to be doing the job.

Unless someone wants to write a new, spiffy, updated for 2009 advice for noobs?

So... You did it, you finally did it you crazy bastard. You signed up to PD.com. Your life as you knew it is over. You will never be able to go to other forums without being called a troll (or feeling restricted so much by them that you actually just start trolling them anyway). Here are a few pointers to ease your way into our little community.

I have divided them into neat little sections like a Real Person. I hope you appreciate my effort.

The Essentials:



-Right, first off, you are going to be called n00b, assface, prison bitch, prolapse-in-waiting or whatever else the fuck we want to call you. You can get pissy about it if you want, but the smart ones seem to go for calling us humorous names in return (the operative word being humorous).

- If you haven't already signed up, and are just lurking, then don't choose a retarded name. We've heard all the Discordian old standards already. You might make it if you call yourself "Emperor Norton Fnord Whiskey Sniffer" or some shit, but we'll still call you whatever we want and our perceptions of you will be somewhat tainted by your lack of originality.

-Which leads us to point two: Leave the pinealism at the door, unless you really DO have something new to share. We really have heard of the PD already, and that guy R.A.W. (He died, you know? Oh, you know already?)

-You know what, leave all the Dada, surrealist crap at the door too. Some of us really dig that shit, hell most of us do. The first time we see the shtick performed anyway.

-Sometimes, you will encounter aggravation of various forms. This is life, if you haven't learned to deal with it yet, then you shouldn't complain to us, you should complain to your parents or guardians for raising you so poorly. The best response is to act like a damn biped. On a related note, there is a custom among some of us to give you all some kind of leeway for the first 50 posts or so, to give you a chance to find your feet. This, it must be stressed, is NOT a rule and is not a license to be a douchebag. It's a guideline and anyone can break it if they want to for any or no reason.

-You have a right to say whatever retarded shit you want. You can't feel precious about that, because we have the right to be completely assholish back.

-Sometimes you may say something that we flame the fuck out of you for, but you wont know why. It's because you've unlocked one of the secret prizes! We have a lot of shorthand references to old jokes/trolls etc. It's nothing personal, we just like to keep these little land mines around. Usually, a bit of forum searching and research will reveal what it is we are responding to.

-Be yourself. I cannot stress this enough. Weird posting styles (all in rhyme, all in bold, replacing 'I' with 'J') are all well and good, but come across as completely retarded. You don't need to impress us, seriously.

-You may never find out what some of the acronyms stand for. PROTIP: There isn't a dictionary telling you what they stand for.

-Lastly, for all the idealism, we ARE still monkeys. We like to throw the poop too. This is after all a community of people, and communities are funny that way.

The "Rules":



-The only rules here are

   -Don't do anything that will get the owners into legal trouble. If you don't know what this means, find out.
   -All pornographic material must be linked and marked NSFW (Not Safe For Work). We don't want                                                                                                                                                someone fired for some bullshit, do we?
        -Outting ongoing troll activities.

There are a few other etiquette based things that you should just know anyway (spamming, thieving peoples work etc.) depending on circumstance you wont be banned for this, but it will go very badly for you.

The Good Shit:



We have a lot of different projects and ideas flowing around. Some are dead for the moment, some are live'n'kicking, but it doesn't matter. If you have something to bring to it then have at it. We have some good shit around (The Black Iron Prison, Intermittens and the GASM projects to name a few). We appreciate originality and humour. If you can bring some intelligence, wit and skill to the mix you're sorted. Think for yourself, schmuck!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thoughts, edits etc. appreciated.

25
Aneristic Illusions / Abdelbaset Ali Mahmoud Al Megrahi:
« on: August 20, 2009, 12:43:03 pm »
ITT we predict how much the Scottish Government will be panned for abetting terrorism by not debasing our (supposedly, at least) liberal and democratic values.

My guess is they'll be pretty roundly beaten up by everyone.

EDIT: Spell-fu broken today

26
Or Kill Me / RAWK REVIEW No.2
« on: August 18, 2009, 11:23:16 pm »


The McCain Experience Greatest Hits - Are You McCained?

After one of arguably the longest and most prolific careers in the industry, John McCain has finally approved a Greatest Hits album, acceding to the wishes of his many fans, and of course the record company. The tracks chart a course from his humble, almost unknown, beginnings right to the pinnacle of his popularity late last year, and reflect the many changes the world as much as the man himself have experienced in the last number of decades.

The opener is the pounding Hanoi-ing, a funky '60s beat tied in with McCain's inimitable style. The lyrics themselves are worth paying close attention to here: "It's turned China white, my hair, my hair, now c'mon everybody throw hands in the air IN THE AIR!". Strong stuff, and very heavily charged with personal emotion and experience - a theme McCain returns to with regularity throughout his career. Hanoi-ing was of course the break through single after five and a half years on the edges of the industry, and some pundits would have it that this very struggle is what made McCain the performer he is. Other critics hold that those very years are what have damaged his credibility as a superstar, and that the bitterness engendered by being frozen out has never completely left him.

The second and third tracks (Killin' Time and My Bed? My Bad?) are from the grandiosely named National Hero album, which overall reflects McCains attitude to his new found fame and the roller coaster ride it took him on. The tracks positively ooze with egotism and brashness. While the album itself sold well, critics were to pan it comprehensively, often returning to it in later years to add credence to their diatribes against him. Nevertheless, National Hero did enough to propel McCain into his epic third studio album D.C. D.C....

Carpetbagger, the fourth track was the lead single from the first part of the D.C. D.C. triple album, and is a suitable track for this compilation. "I've been to Hanoi, I've been to D.C., I've gone over the water, and came back greasy" was a controversial lyric even at the time, and was seen as political posturing even by those who knew him best. McCain to this day insists that he only wrote what was in his head and had carried no agenda over from the early days of his career. The critics were as ever quick to pick up on his early isolation, and would often cite it as the influence behind all of his work. Other, and perhaps even more controversial, tracks from the first part of D.C. D.C. include "No Milk", seen as an attack on civil rights leader Martin Luther King and "Fall Time in Santiago", which can be seen as (at the very least) a rose-tinted view of General Augusto Pinochet, the Chilean dictator.

Hands in my Pockets, the seventh track here, and the only truly notable track from D.C. D.C. part two, appears to be McCain declaring his innocence for some unstated crime or other dodgy activity. While no one has ever exactly pinned down the incident to which the artist refers, there is plenty of speculation from both fans and critics.

The eighth, ninth and tenth tracks on Are You McCained, all come from D.C. D.C. part three, and reflect McCains later signature fusion of staying solidly to his genres roots, while occasionally throwing his listeners with some motif or instrumental piece from something out of left field.

After the release of D.C. D.C., McCain put his career aside for a time, and worked on various projects both within and outside the industry. Several collaborations with artists both within and outside his genre garnered applause from even some of the more jaded critics. During this time, John McCain also fell into a deep and bitter rivalry with "Little" George Bush, and while he showed he could work with the man several high profile clashes led to an ever strained atmosphere.

It was after "Little" George seemed to be fading in his power with "Half Here, All Gone", that McCain decided to release a comeback album, White House, Who's House? MY House!, a blatant attempt to move on "Little" George's fan base. Recording was beset with problems, and almost didn't even make it out of the writing stage, but it was pushed through by the record company pairing McCain and the then relatively unknown Sarah Palin in a duet album. Insiders claim that McCain was unhappy with this turn of events, but knew that it was the only chance to have the album released at a time it would have most effect.

The opening and title track from White House, Who's House? MY House! is the 11th of the compilation is a confused declaration os his desire to not be "someone" but to do "something" instead, and features McCain solo. While the single itself sold well at the time among loyal fans, it didn't seem to have much market impact. So much so that marketing was reduced for the album, and McCain himself had to fund it.

"All Heart" and "Ambien" deal with the many stories regarding his health, and "All Heart" in particular goes to great effort to list all of his medical treatments to date in an effort to assuage concern: "I've got 99 ailments, but a twitch ain't one". For songs that are trying to assure to his good health, the duet with Palin seems to be very strong here, and it seems she's actually holding him up at times.

The final track "365 2 173" is an almost fitting denouement to both White House, Who's House? MY House! and Are You McCained. For while it promises much, it ultimately fails to deliver, and as it is a song about failure this is in some ways ironic. Ultimately, White House, Who's House? MY House! sold well to the hardcore fans, but appealed little elsewhere. And while it's star, McCain, seems to be fading into relative obscurity Sarah Palin appears to be building from her first mainstream exposure.

Our ultimate verdict: One for the history buffs and completists, but with little lasting appeal and a very confused and angry short term appeal. You'd have to have been mad to buy it in the first place.

27
Bring and Brag / All in my head
« on: April 27, 2009, 11:56:45 pm »
You told me you knew a truth, the truth would set me free,
I bought all your bullshit, it made sense to me,
Over, under, all about, the fools are runniní round,
And the truth that you promised me has been driven underground.

She called me yesterday in tears, said sex was off the table,
I believed in love, and thought it pure like the fable,
Up and down, through and through, diseases abound,
Those sex lies are by betrayal crowned.

All in my head. The patterns of behaviour.
All in my head. The things that I saw.
All in my head. Law and Disorder.
All in my head, better off in bed, better off unsaid..

The Man called to sell me shiny things,
To have this stuff would set me free on wings,
Debtors and Creditors, the money canít be found,
The freedom we were sold has such a tinny hollow sound.

All in my head. The patterns of behaviour.
All in my head. The things that I saw.
All in my head. Law and Disorder.
All in my head, and Iím better off in bed, pretty much dead..

Teachers and cops and friends and enemies.
Family and employers and childhood priests.
They gave you the iron, they gave you the plans,
But you built up your prison with your own two hands.

Found my diary today, from when I was fifteen,
I lied to myself , like I was the star of the scene,
Around and around, in ever smaller circles,
I counted off the years like I was counting kills.

All in my head. The patterns of behaviour.
All in my head. The things that I saw.
All in my head. Law and Disorder.
All in my head, and Iím better off in bed, better off unsaid,
Pretty much dead, Better off unsaid.

EDIT: I prefer the version of these words LMNO put to music down there \/, so I'm making the small changes he made to this.

28
Or Kill Me / The Book of Prophecy ~ As Written by Payne
« on: April 14, 2009, 01:18:21 am »
It is traditional for me to impart great truths to you when I resurrect, and I shall continue this tradition with this - the first chapter of my Book of Prophecy.

1:1 In the third year of the reign of Hugh, Moderator of PD came Hustle, Moderator of Pimpsville unto Apple Talk, and besieged it.
1:2 And the Lord gave Hugh Moderator of PD into his hand, with part of the vessels of the house of Admin: which he carried into the land of Maine to the house of his Admins; and he brought the vessels into the treasure house of his Admins.
1:3 And the Moderator spake unto Rev. Loveshade the master of his eunuchs, that he should bring certain of the children of WOMP, and of the Moderator's seed, and of the princes;
1:4 Children in whom was no blemish, but well favoured, and skilful in all wisdom, and cunning in knowledge, and understanding science, and such as had ability in them to stand in the Moderator's palace, and whom they might teach the learning and the tongue of the Spags.
1:5 And the Moderator appointed them a daily provision of the Moderator's meat, and of the wine which he drank: so nourishing them three years, that at the end thereof they might stand before the Moderator.
1:6 Now among these were of the children of PD, Payne, Eve, Fred, and Cramulus:
1:7 Unto whom the prince of the eunuchs gave names: for he gave unto Payne the name of The Motherfucking Mesiah; and to Eve, of Kimmy Gibbler; and to Fred, of Noodle; and to Cramulus, of Shit on a Shoe.
1:8 But Payne purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the portion of the Moderator's meat, nor with the wine which he drank: therefore he requested of the prince of the eunuchs that he might not defile himself.
1:9 Now The Great Admin had brought Payne into favour and tender love with the prince of the eunuchs.
1:10 And the prince of the eunuchs said unto Payne, I fear my lord the Moderator, who hath appointed your meat and your drink: for why should he see your faces worse liking than the children which are of your sort? then shall ye make me endanger my head to the Moderator.
1:11 Then said Payne to Sheered Volva, whom the prince of the eunuchs had set over Payne, Eve, Fred, and Cramulus,
1:12 Prove thy servants, I beseech thee, ten days; and let them give us pulse to eat, and water to drink.
1:13 Then let our countenances be looked upon before thee, and the countenance of the children that eat of the portion of the Moderator's meat: and as thou seest, deal with thy servants.
1:14 So he consented to them in this matter, and proved them ten days.
1:15 And at the end of ten days their countenances appeared fairer and fatter in flesh than all the children which did eat the portion of the Moderator's meat.
1:16 Thus Sheered Volva took away the portion of their meat, and the wine that they should drink; and gave them pulse.
1:17 As for these four children, The Admin gave them knowledge and skill in all learning and wisdom: and Payne had understanding in all visions and dreams.
1:18 Now at the end of the days that the Moderator had said he should bring them in, then the prince of the eunuchs brought them in before Hustle.
1:19 And the Moderator communed with them; and among them all was found none like Payne, Eve, Fred, and Cramulus: therefore stood they before the Moderator.
1:20 And in all matters of wisdom and understanding, that the Moderator enquired of them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians and astrologers that were in all his realm.
1:21 And Payne continued even unto the first year of Moderator Faust.

29
Discordian Recipes / Mechanically Recovered Meat Hole
« on: February 09, 2009, 01:03:26 pm »
Mechanically Recovered Meat Hole!

LOVE IT!

So much more than "Discordian Recipes", anyway.

30
Or Kill Me / The Cleansing
« on: January 17, 2009, 08:24:54 am »
Lots of rhyming going on, yo? Don't know if this is really my style any more, but I used to write shit like this all the time a few years back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who's manning up to man the defences?
The patriot called, now come to his senses?
The bomb maimed your pride, now it mains you,
The fight that you sought, isn't the one that you're in,
It's Dirty. It's a Dirty old fight, It's Dirty.

Who's paying the fines for fucked up finances?
It isn't that banker, bailed out, "good intentions".
The shit hit the fan, now it hits you,
Staining your beautiful and hard earned suit,
It's Dirty. It's a Dirty new suit. It's Dirty.

Oh for a world that was clean, oh for a world that was clear,
For a world that, for you, held none of your fears,
The answer is simple, or so we are told,
It's repeated until our dreams are bought and are sold,
To make the world simple, to make our suits clean,
We have to get our hands Dirty.
We replace the stains with dirt that's unseen,
We have to get our hands Dirty.

Who watches the men who are watching us?
Who watches them? Are they watching themselves?
Your reflection of fear now reflects you,
But at least you can see what never was there,
It's Dirty. It's a Dirty new vision, It's Dirty.

Oh for a world that was sane, oh for a world that made sense,
For a world that, for you, held no more pretence,
The questions are scripted, the vision is bold,
A lie, oft repeated, becomes plated with gold,
To create a world in our image, to wipe the slate clean,
We have to get our hands Dirty.
We replace the stains with dirt that's unseen,
We have to get our hands Dirty.
To make the world simple, to make our suits clean,
We have to get our hands Dirty.
We have to get our hands Dirty.

Pages: 1 [2] 3 4 5 6