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Topics - Nigel

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526
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Holy crap, Squiddy
« on: August 28, 2010, 05:56:33 am »
Fucking DORMICE!!!











FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!

527
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / What the FUCK
« on: August 27, 2010, 08:06:28 am »
is up with all the stupid n00bs?

There seem to be some decent ones mixed in, but really, we just had this three-month run of EXCELLENT noobs, and now this? Are we being punished for something? Or maybe rewarded for something?

528
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Farewell, my lovelies
« on: August 08, 2010, 03:06:18 am »
... in a few short minutes Eater of Souls will be here to finish up our packing, and I will go offline. See you spags in 11 days-ish!

(Except for Dok and Freeky, who I will see appreciably sooner in analog)

529
Eater of Souls made a custom map on Google for our trip. Since yesterday, it has acquired something like 1400 views. Obviously, these can't be actual views by real people, so they must be some kind of spiders or bots. Anyone know what they'd be doing?

530
It seems like some of the animated avatars are locking up my browser for several seconds at a time. Is it just Google Chrome? Is it my Mac Mini? I'll probably just turn avatars off but I was wondering if anyone else was having this problem, because I don't remember it happening until recently.

531
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Hey Weltburger
« on: July 07, 2010, 10:38:14 pm »
Good job making everyone on the largest Discordian forum in the world hate your guts. Worthless piece of shit asshole.

You're not even a good troll. You're just kind of a nasty little lump, like a mucousy blob stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

532
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Prank ideas
« on: July 07, 2010, 08:21:03 pm »
I need to prank Mr. Language, and I need ideas that will be easy to implement, subtle, and cumulative. It ought to be something that won't immediately make him think he's being pranked, but will puzzle him, preferably over the course of a month.

Something along the lines of Cram's paperclip prank would be good, but I'm not sure what I can put in his house that will have that cumulative effect without being noticeably out of place.

Maybe I could hide things in his books? I have thought about slipping strange items into his fridge and cupboards, but since he has a housemate I don't think it would become evident or be funny unless there was a theme to it.

Help!

535
I hate it when my friends and family die. I know that seems self-evident; nobody likes it when people they care about bite the big one. But as you get older, especially when you get to a certain age, the deaths start to pile up.

Granted, I started losing friends pretty early. All four grandparents while I was a kid... hell, that's not unusual. I was pretty broke up when my favorite great-uncle died, but it's when the young people die that it really shakes you up. It started with my first boyfriend-of-sorts, Frankie, a boy I used to mess around with on the cusp of puberty, 16 years old, stabbed to death at school trying to break up a fight... at least, that's the public story. I didn't lose too much sleep over Frankie; he gave me a couple of bloody noses and a black eye, back in the day. It was weird though.

The first one I cried over was Shawn, a girl I worked with when I was 18. We used to commute together to Macheesmo Mouse in Beaverton, listening to Yaz on her car stereo while she told me what an asshole her cheating boyfriend was, and how she was going to leave him. A year later she was dead of the AIDS he gave her.

Jason and Chris both went that way a few years later. I still miss Jason's ridiculous voicemails, and Chris calling me "Princess".

Sharmayne. I still don't know how she died; I only know it was suicide.

In my mid-20's it was my brother Shaman by way of a gun in his mouth. He was a soldier and a poet, and we always thought that he couldn't reconcile the two.

A couple years later my uncle Jerry found out that his melanoma had come back, and that the prognosis was grim. He wasn't one to go out quietly; he flew to Vegas, got drunk, took a bunch of pills and went for a swim.

People think I'm unreasonable for my fear of my loved ones dying. They don't know how eminently reasonable I am.

Who went next? I'm afraid of forgetting someone; I know I'll forget someone, because sometimes I'll remember someone and realize that I'd forgotten them for a while. I think it was Deb, of cancer. That woman would fucking anything, and then she had cancer, and then she was dead.

Jim. My other brother. He was my ex-husband's brother, really, but we were close before and after my marriage. He was my friend. I'll never know if it was related, but in 1997 he was beaten severely and left for dead by his boyfriend; it shattered every bone in his head and left him brain damaged, blind in one eye and deaf in one ear. He had been a handsome man; after several reconstructive surgeries, you could almost see that. They said he wouldn't be able to work again, but he did. He was almost his old self; almost. In 2008 he died of an aneurysm.

My cousin, Matthew. I saw him in the store just a few weeks before a tree fell on him. My other cousin, Misty; not dead but left retarded, childlike after a car accident. She was only 18, blond, brilliant and beautiful. My beloved father-in-law, Sam, stopped eating and drinking after his Alzheimers took him to a point where he felt his dignity was at stake.

Chelle died of cancer last year. I thought she'd be OK; she used to write me about how much my confidence in her inspired her to change her life. She'd had a hard one, but was trying so hard to turn it around and it was WORKING. She was like a little sister. There was no reason for her to have gotten cancer, but she did anyway.

Who am I forgetting?

Today I found out that SaraKay died. An aneurysm. She was about my age, dark hair, grounded, smiling, always ready to go out for breakfast or drink until three; whatever sounded like fun. She gave so much to people, always helping and smiling and real, and she was the kind of person you never felt uncomfortable around. She was never sick; she was just fine. And then she was gone.

536
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / 27b/6
« on: June 23, 2010, 09:25:38 pm »
I know quite a few people here are fans... this one had me in complete, helpless hysterics.

http://www.27bslash6.com/missy.html

537
I have been delighted recently with the increasing awareness and popularity of my favorite sociological study of all time, which most of  you have almost certainly heard me talk about; I have been calling it the Kruger-Dunning Effect because in the paper's publication, Kruger got top billing, but recently it's been remonikered the Dunning-Kruger Effect, because evidently Dunning was the advisor and Kruger was the grad student. I find the re-ordering of the authors' names dubious, though, as IMO they should remain in the original publication order. Regardless, here is an article and interview with David Dunning and it is kind of wonderful:

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/06/20/the-anosognosics-dilemma-1/

Here's the original paper: http://www.wepapers.com/Papers/70939/Unskilled_and_Unaware_of_It_-_How_Difficulties_in_Recognizing_One's_Own_Incompetence_Lead_to_Inflated_Self-Assessments

538
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / The Holy Land
« on: June 15, 2010, 05:09:46 pm »
I was thinking, yesterday, about Tucson, and what a legendary mecca/hellhole it has grown to be in our own little corner of Discordian mythology.

I think Tucson might actually be our Holy Land, a Discordian Jerusalem. Technically that should mean Payne was born there, but our Lord works in mysterious ways. I mean, in the Holy Land, anything is possible, right?

Pilgrimages will have to be made, and shrines built.

539
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Dewey the chickadee
« on: June 11, 2010, 03:21:55 am »
So EFO found a baby chickadee on the sidewalk on the way home from school today; she picked him up and walked with him all the way home, where we set him up in a little nestbox in a cage in the kitchen, and I have been feeding him mush off a popsicle stick. He's probably just a few days from flight, but not quite ready, and just as fearless as can be! He only eats if I cradle him in my palm, and is reluctant to leave my hand. Right now he's on his perch sleeping with his head under his wing DAWWWWWWW OH GOD AGHAGHAGHAGHAGHAGH how can anything be that CUTE???








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