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Messages - Eater of Clowns

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Or Kill Me / Re: The future doesn't want you
« on: June 27, 2010, 07:49:38 pm »
Good Doktor,

Is the throbbing numbness and muttering spasms part of the acclimation process?  They both started as tics and evolved into crippling outbursts.  Speaking with anything but clenched jaw and narrowed eyes takes concerted painful effort.


This was a great piece, p3nt.

Discordian Recipes / Re: Tonights menu
« on: June 23, 2010, 03:17:23 am »
Linguica motherfucks.

Discordian Recipes / Re: Tonights menu
« on: June 21, 2010, 03:41:02 am »

Motherfuckin' THAT.

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: SQUID!
« on: June 21, 2010, 02:42:55 am »

Thank you for your most recent of corespondences regarding the three wolf moon shirt individual french press cup maker debacle.  As one might have guessed, my own shirt at the time only contained two wolves and a mere quarter moon.  We can all agree upon the fact that a moon with three wolves in comparison to a half moon with two wolves is only a moderately comparable event.  For instance, tonight my sister and I subjected to my father, for Father's Day as we were told it may be, to a debaucherous day across state lines and frequently straddling the understanding of good taste.  In this very paragraph I've attempt to spell "taste" with a d and a comma, as an example.  Who knows where else I've gone astray.  Perhaps by opening windows commands in that last sentence.  Luckily I delete errors withcerttaintyy.

Indeed, the power of additional moons and wolves strikes me as important.  However, lacking a moon one might imbue strength through what has been hailed as the most wonderful pizza of all time, due to my own prowess with sauce and crust.  In such an instance, where does coffee fall in the grand scheme of life and generations?  I submit very little.  For even a well pressed coffee in such a contraption as the one in question cannot compare with a sauce well spiced with cayenne.

Lacking such guidance from spiritual gurus from principia I found myself at a lacking brewpub in that rhode island town nearby.  They counseled me on beers not to par with those so recommended by fellow board members, specifically in our most recent outing (partially I wish I would not be correcting the spelling errors I'm making every other word right now).  We retired to my apartment for scotch and delicious pizza and ice cream.  My father proclaimed it the best day of all time, so I think that makes me a success right now.


The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: Spagbook
« on: June 18, 2010, 09:28:10 pm »
Some recent pics from my holiday in Valencia:

Trip is a Columbian drug cartel??? :eek:

No Tzip. You are the Google Colombian drug cartel.

...and then Tzip was a Google Colombian drug cartel.


Leaving the earth sounds like an adventure, Dok.  People don't want adventure.  They think they do, they wish they could be on that fucking Lost island and deal with smoke monster and the attractive fellow stranded.  But they balk at the work it takes to really embrace that sense.  Adventure doesn't look for us; space isn't going to come knocking on our door.  It'll stand over us laughing silently at the short span of our existence.

The explorers are dead.  There is no fountain of youth to drive them on, no legends.  It's a money thing as well.  Looking forever outward is an expensive hobby, and one that takes funds away from us looking forever shiftily left and right at our brethren.

We're past thriving, which is the reward gained for risking our necks in an uncertain endeavor.  It's about survival now, and just barely is better even than the possibility of none at all.  When told we can't, we accept, rather than yell back "fuck you - watch me!"

I know the entertainment industry has always been about making money.  And maybe I'm just becoming a jaded, cynical 30-something, but, at least back in the day, it seemed like at least they were giving us an imaginative story, and then told us to go out and buy the action figures, breakfast cereals, and lunchboxes.  I could tell, even as a young kid watching Fraggle Rock, that the stories they were telling were imaginative and poignant.  I think that goes for the other Henson properties and many other shows/movies from back in that time. 

Today it just seems way more cookie-cutter and formulaic.  It's the merchandise first and then the story, which is basically just mad-libbed.  It's why I like the Pixar movies.  Probably one of the few movie companies that are attempting and producing original content.  Even the sequels don't suck. 

Everyone else is going to take everything we grew up on, dip it in plastic and splosions, and pretend somehow that it is a) good, b) entertaining, and c) somehow maintaining the spirit of the original. 

The answer is obviously d) none of the above, ever. 

I'm glad you mentioned Pixar here, I was halfway through your first paragraph when I thought of them.  Here we have a company that other companies love because their marketability, but one that delivers quality in spite of it.  They'll crank out the sure-thing merchandising brands like Cars and Toy Story (which are still at least good) to give themselves the creative legroom for really experimental projects like WALL-E (how the fuck do you sell a movie where the two main characters don't speak) and Up (how the hell do you sell a movie about an old man and a kid flying in a house with balloons).  It's just too bad they're part of a trend where traditional animation seems to be suffering in favor of CG animation.

There seems to always have been a trend of children's entertainment just being children's marketing.  Every now and then instead of the same old there's a real gem among them that has more to it than just distraction.  Henson was one of these, Pixar might be one of these, the first Shrek had some good fairy tale deconstruction to it as well.

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: SQUID!
« on: June 18, 2010, 03:56:01 pm »
I love mine.
I use 2tablespoons of coffee per 8oz cup.

These things may be a little rickety yes. Try not to throw your coffee into the bottom, pour molten lava over it, screw the cap on with too much force and gusto causing it to crack under the pressure and you know, don't slam the plunger down like you're trying to squash a midget with it or something.

These things require fragility and a delicate touch. The sludge at the bottom is the bonus bit. Think of it as a little chunk of chocolate in the bottom of your juice. The claw that comes out of the shell perfectly to be dipped in butter and devoured. The big piece of fried chicken.

That hum, dear Richter, is the sound of production and serenity. When at the end of the day the lawn has been mowed, everything is clean, the laundry is done, there's a fridge full of food, dinner is hot on the table, a car was donated, a building was painted, a movie was watched and the only thing you remember from the whole day, THE WHOLE DAY was that you pooped at about 12:30.

Oh THIS is where my problem with the contraption arose from.  You see, first I ground the beans into a fine enough powder that one could absorb the caffeine through pores and get the jitters all while growing blackheads made out of coffee grinds.  The water I used was heavy with minerals of unknown origin from my town's early days, and possibly before that even.  The device which I used to heat the water resembled a prop from the witches in Macbeth and when the water had emptied the residue left behind tripled its thickness and strength.  But those are normal coffee roasting procedures.

It was when I looked at the plunger and saw within its rail-thin construction my own skinny frame that has always been the object of ridicule.  I cursed the thing, and using all the strength pencil arms can afford I slammed the bastard down, sloshing lightly browned water right out the top.  This didn't work, as a few grounds managed to slip through, so I decided I obviously hadn't used enough force.  I placed the mini french press on the ground with the plunger up on one side of my apartment.  Donning steel toed Dr. Martens I ran to the thing and landed precisely on the little nub atop the plunger.  Again, coffee splattered about with the powder-fine grinds mixed about it.

The third try I wizened up.  Of course using my hands and feet to operate the thing wasn't going to work; this was a complex machine.  I thought back to my boy scout days where I learned the proper technique for swinging axes and whatnot and proceeded to the basement.  There I found a sledgehammer, all dented and knobby from my previous encounter trying to create adequate pressure in those old shoes that had the pump in them that were all the rage a decade or so ago.  Armed thusly, I squared my stance and stood over the french press thingy.  One hand rested at the bottom of the hilt and the other toward the sledge portion, and as I swung it behind my right shoulder and over my head I slipped the right hand down the hilt to add power to the motion.  The plunger plunged - right through the cup, not only spraying the grinds and scalding water about but this time also sending shards of molten plastic through the skin of my legs, creating a series of wretched scaly melted skin/plastic patches from ankle to groin.  The sledgehammer was unharmed.

1/5 - I would not purchase this product again.

Discordian Recipes / Re: How to not be a fat bastard.
« on: June 18, 2010, 02:06:46 pm »
Dok lost two pounds while eating pasty pies last week.  It can only be reasonably concluded that pasty pies are a weight loss tool.

The movie adaptation of Fraggle Rock is getting a new screenwriter - for an "edgier" script.

Director/Screenwriter Corey Edwards has updated his blog with a note warning Fraggle Rock  fans that “there are some dark days ahead, my friends.” As it turns out, The Weinstein Company, who has been working with Edwards on a big screen Fraggle Rock movie, has begun a wide search for a new screenwriter to come aboard the project after demanding the the script was “not edgy enough.”

Down at Fraggle Rock they had things just about figured out.  Of course they had problems; space gets cramped underground you know, but oh what little those caves did to their spirits.  Living with no sun to speak of would drive the best of our moods spiraling downward but not those little guys.  You ask one of them what it's like to live in a dark stone cavern and they cheerily reply with how well it carries their voices on their many daily songs, how it melds their voices together to something more.  That's what the Fraggles were all about; individuals each strong alone coming together for something greater still.

They did their work with us, with their "Ambassador" Henson, for four years.  It was a big four years for them, they were explorers at heart and loved the idea of a new world above to strike out and learn about humanity.  And we lapped up every second of it, didn't we, their catchy tunes and their oddly relevant lessons?  Here we had beings so foreign who somehow understood us better than we did ourselves.  It wasn't at the price of introspection that they knew so much and still remained cheerful.  No, they were deep people, they after all knew only darkness really.  It was through strict discipline of mind that the Fraggles kept things running as they were lest they fall into the traps we've all seen ourselves.

Henson saw the toll our world exacted on them as days went by.  Groups of Fraggles would strike off as stowaways on boats and airplanes to examine the humans above and report back.  They would gather together like they loved to do in one of the production areas, at these times strangely less welcoming of outsiders than was their nature.  They would speak in hushed voices.  Faint gasps could be heard.  Every day some scouts returned was followed by a wary eye by the Fraggles the next day on set; stress lines began crossing their eyes.  Listen closely to the final season and you might hear a note of sorrow in their song.  How could they trust humans knowing what we're capable of?

It was the height of their success that the kindly muppet man requested they return home.  The higher-ups were obviously less than thrilled that their merchandising and ratings would disappear just like that.  Like always, Henson fought them tooth and nail on behalf of the strange creatures he'd come to love.  Even seeing in his other projects how cold the money makers could be, Jim left that meeting disturbed; disturbed by the sly and slight smile on the face of one man in the back of the room.  A man who was biding his time.

Things were largely normal back home for them for quite a few years.  Long enough, almost disturbingly precisely perhaps, for us to forget what the Fraggles once meant to us.  And maybe for them to forget what we are.  Their man came to Fraggle Rock long after Jim was gone.  There was quiet in the cave.  They didn't like him, didn't like the menace behind the well trained publicity smile.  They didn't like the greed they saw when they explained the Doozers, how he almost licked his chops at the idea of a race of workers who knew only to work and never understood why.  But they listened.  That's what they do.

Turns out that man didn't need contracts.  He didn't need legalities.  All he needed to was ask for help.  Help us.  It was a cry none of the Fraggles could turn down.  The ones that had forgotten the world above in their twenty year absence jumped at the chance to try again to teach us what life was really about.  They could sing and laugh again, for us, and we could share it.  And the man just smiled sly and slight.

With props to Richter for his recent Audio Book entry on bringing this about.

Or Kill Me / Re: Excess Weight
« on: June 18, 2010, 12:29:51 pm »
I wrote this three months ago, I figured with no responses it was a flop.   :lulz:  Thanks for the bump FP.

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: SQUID!
« on: June 17, 2010, 07:54:23 pm »
I don't get it.  Maybe I got a shitty one but that one cup french press didn't work well for me at all.  Not to mention keeping the thing stewing in its own grounds for as long as it takes you to drink it, turning your perfectly good french press taste into a sludgy mess.  You might as well use a damn percolator if that's your goal.  Not for EoC, I tells ya, none of this portable french press nonsense no thank you.  I'll use my glass beaker metal plunger holy shrine, I'll use it to make coffee ice cubes so when I chill the drink on hot days it only gets stronger as they melt.

What is this talk of harpoons?  Has someone taken this town's only appeal?  Why the hell would I even bother to continue living here if so?  I can find a 15% unemployment rate without harpoons just about anywhere these days.

Discordian Recipes / Re: Discordian Travel Guide
« on: June 17, 2010, 03:53:37 am »
Pretty safe to say Florida is mine  :wink:
I've lived here for 25 yrs.

I'm hoping it can be more comprehensive with several people's take on the same area.  For instance I put my tourist experience in SF, but someone who lived there would definitely have better suggestions.  Anyway do it, Squid, DO FLORIDA.

Discordian Recipes / Re: Discordian Travel Guide
« on: June 16, 2010, 08:01:12 pm »
Well I'm glad there's such interest.  If you'd like to submit a write up of your town or one you've visited, just put it out there.  Squid, I think it's safe to assume Florida is your territory, maybe Suu if she's interested.  If anyone knows of people who'd be down for contributing let them know about it and I can try to get it all together.

Right now it looks like I'll just take write ups and edit them into the original post.  If it gets seriously comprehensive I'll have to draw upon the knowledge pool here to get a more efficient method of putting it out there.

It wouldn't surprise me, if after this debacle has run it's course, all the Nations of the World, as one, decide that Oil drilling, and reliance on fossil fuels is just too problematic, and dirty.

Then return to Whaling.


ETA Futurama:

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