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.

Messages - Cainad (dec.)

Pages: 1 2 3 4 [5] 6 7 8 ... 389
Masshole roads represent a macrocosm of the Masshole driver's soul. A primeval fury, the law of the jungle, is the only law on those roads. Every ounce of the natives' being is leveraged towards making their point and establishing dominance, while civilized folks must duck their heads and try to navigate their way out while dictating their last will and testament into their smartphones.

It is my belief that residents of Massachusetts do not drive for the purpose of getting from one place to another. They drive for the sole love of blood and the smell of scorched rubber, and the sparks of rear bumpers slamming into the pavement as they take a downhill 90-degree turn at full speed (a thing I have personally witnessed within the borders of Boston's mutant cousin that they keep locked in the attic, Worcester).

The roads?

Ah yes, the roads of New York. What can be said about them that is not already written in black rubber, shattered glass, discarded mufflers, and the corpses of deer?

Alas, many cannot read such an abstracted form of language, so I must strive to put it into mere words. First, the roads of Long Island.

On a map in comparison to the rest of North America, Long Island seems to be merely a somewhat exaggerated and expensive sandbar. What the reader must understand is that Long Island is long. Very, very long. The warmer the weather, longer it is. A trip to the Hamptons can take 2 hours in November and a lifetime in June. There are only about 4 major roads that go north-to-south on the island, all the others lead directly into the city. You must pay a toll for the privilege of leaving the island, either by bridge or by boat.

And then there are the deer. Lord save us, the deer.

They are as the Biblical Plagues of Moses, except no one on Long Island is willing to give up the sin of being in the real estate market. So the deer are fruitful and multiply. They're practically fucking in the middle of the damned expressway. We have abandoned traffic barriers and now simply rely on piles of deer bones to cushion the assholes who think they can cut ahead by driving on the shoulder. When it becomes too much, the deer carcasses are taken to landfills. The mass slaughter of the deer will, I predict, provide enough fill to raise Long Island above sea level when the ice caps melt.

But enough of this shit. What you are all really here for is New York City. The Big Apple. The Stinkhouse. Where the hipsters go to die.

The roads of The City are, famously, arranged in a grid. This is true for approximately 10% of the actual area of the city you will drive through. The vast majority of the roads are paved in gum and styrofoam cups, and are made for horses. Once you are on the roads of The City, you have but two options: find one of the bridges that will lead to your salvation, or pray to every god you can think of that The Tunnels will be merciful today. Because, of course, you will not be parking here today. Why didn't you take the train, asshole?

The Tunnels are where six lanes of traffic must compress down to two. Here, you would expect me t report drivers reduced to total barbarism and anarchy. Well, we might be in New York, but we aren't goddamn Bostonians, for fuck's sake. At The Tunnels, there is only the most token effort at being a dickhead, and folks move glacially towards the entrance in relatively orderly fashion. There is a kind of horrible peace as you all lose years of your life wondering why you didn't take to Cross Island Parkway. WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE THE PARKWAY I'M THROWING THIS GPS INTO THE FUCKING HUDSON RIVER.

He lives, he dies, HE LIVES AGAIN!

Cain, a gift for use with your coworkers, etc:

 :lulz: from the infamous, internationally suppressed "TGRR's Books on Tape" series. The only complete set thought to remain is his original dub set, stored as grave goods in his tomb, wherever THAT is.

You didn't just say his name.

There were acronyms... uh, but not a name. I'll.... just... shut up bout the things now. As per the instructions.

Did you just hear a thumping noise?

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: Sandwich Argument
« on: September 12, 2015, 01:45:06 pm »
This kind of epistemic terrorism is what's keeping America from being great again, you know. I won't stand for it.

Me neither.  We should probably sit down.

Good call, my feet hurt.

"Well, then stop."

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: Sandwich Argument
« on: September 11, 2015, 09:40:33 pm »
This kind of epistemic terrorism is what's keeping America from being great again, you know. I won't stand for it.

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: Sandwich Argument
« on: September 11, 2015, 09:12:01 pm »
I'm not sure if "hand held" really works as a criteria, since it's a contextual property rather than inherent property of a sandwich. A burrito isn't reay a sandwich but can be hand held, and if you're weird you could eat a sandwich with fork and knife.

Also, the primary difference between schools and prisons is that prisons get MORE funding over time.

All high school in Salizore also maximum security prison: THIS HOW WE LEARN.

Here, she is story:

Is hard to believe, but one time Enrico was not huge sweating slab of man meat he am today, no, in fact once he was huge sweating slab of teen meat... this is call "grow", is like erection for whole body, but slightly less erotic. Only slight.  Is still involve puberty, and what is more erotic than puberty? Only Charo.

When Enrico was teenage, he attend Gilles de Rais High, and was both worst student and best student... is tricky because both concept almost identical in Salizore.  He was in gang called Lo Volturos, which was also junior members of Lo Volturos political party, but cooler because they wear leather jacket, instead of full leather suit.  Lo Volturos was only political party in Salizore, and also only teenage gang.  No, this is not entirely true, there had be 2 gangs, but one defect away to Puerto Rico... this gang was call Menudo.  Nobody know what ever happen to them.

One day, exchange prisoner from Austalia is come to Gilles de Rais High: her name Katherine Knight.  She and young Generalissimo begin mad love affair, during slick and slimy summer nights.  She think she must impressive Enrico, and so become dress like slut.  Well, sluttier.  More slutty.  And funny part (haha) is Enrico at same time had also think she want him to be more mature, so he had first join student council as Treasurer, and once win, murder all other member of student council and proclaim himself Generalissimo.  Is funny story, and still act out as passion play every September 9, when Enrico is risen from the dead.  Play, she is now called "Grease".

:lulz: holy shit

 :lulz: :lulz:

(Pretend I found a Kool-Aid Man gif to put here)


Words like a'a, pahoehoe, and other words for cooled lava that weren't invented by Hawaiians, can be referred to as "lava." For clarity, especially when talking to people who aren't huge nerds, "lava rock" is a common term. A place that has been covered in lava rock is often called a lava field.

Basalt is indeed cooled lava, but not all lava forms basalt when it cools. If the lava is basaltic, or mafic, in composition (low in quartz and feldspar, high in iron minerals), it will form a basalt. This is the kind of lava that you get in Hawaii, it's the runny kind that flows and ruins your lawn.

If the lava is felsic (high in feldspar and quartz), it'll form non-basaltic rocks like rhyolite (which is chemically the same as granite) or obsidian. This kind of lava is much less runny and is the kind that forms fragments and pyroclastic flows. Pompeii got owned by this kind of lava, although by the time it got to them it had cooled into ash.

tl;dr using the word "molten" is ok if the context doesn't make it clear that you're talking about the hot stuff.

 :horrormirth: :horrormirth: :horrormirth:

I just placed a bid for the domain name, but I am not exactly hopeful.

Also, today I learned that is blocked by my usually pretty open workplace filter as "Cult/Occult"  :lulz:

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / A Most Glorious Troll
« on: August 18, 2015, 12:06:12 am »

For 27 years it's been up there on the flat roof of Mark Gubin's building in the flight path of Mitchell International Airport. A sign painted in letters 6 feet tall tells people arriving here by air: "WELCOME TO CLEVELAND."

"There's not a real purpose for having this here except madness, which I tend to be pretty good at," Gubin said Tuesday when I stopped at his place in Bay View to see the sign.

The sign is in Milwaukee :lulz:

Pages: 1 2 3 4 [5] 6 7 8 ... 389