Hey, LMNO...

[Doktor Howl]

Oooh, goody.

Um

[LMNO]

Not sarcastic.

I have several tracks in mind for you...

Mua-Ha-Ha!

[Doktor Howl]

Not sarcastic.

I have several tracks in mind for you...

Mua-Ha-Ha!

Oh, okay.  Horrible evil shit, I can live with.  I will be recording tomorrow, so you should have the remaining mp3s tomorrow or the next day, depending on how much time I have (and how long I can stay awake).

[BadBeast]

I never was very quick to make up my mind. Even before. And half the time, I'd just change it again, to agree with whoever needed agreeing with. And even though all I hear these days is "Spider this" and "Spiders that", I'm not going to judge a creature Evil, just because it's alien, octopodal,  Shit, as if any opinion of mine is going to weigh in as relevant.

I do know I used to hate them when they were little. Spider sized. I couldn't kill them either. Not because of fear, because I can pick them up, and throw them out thr window, no problem. But to kill them, and have all those legs, frantically thrashing around? Broken pulpy bodies, oozing ichor out of the torn bits? No.
I know those legs keep going. For ages. Long after the Arachnid is dead. Weeks later sometimes. But in my mind! In the middle of the night. I would wake up in a cold sweat, because of a Spider I killed when I was seven.

So I am in no position, to say yay, or nay. I can hardly see these days, the vision in both my eyes seems to be viewing from behind a cataract.
Monochromatic, and without depth, it brings me no real clues. And I'm thinking a lot clearer now.
Hanging upside down from the ceiling can do that, I'm told. A small mercy, but a mercy, nonetheless.
And I always did like the soft, almost living caress of pure silk against  my skin.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Hopefully I got the right spirit for this.

The dry mouth woke me up. It was still night. I wanted water desperately but my body felt stuck and my head was pounding. I reached for the pills instead. The pills would make the headache go away. Then I grabbed the bottle of E&J I had beside me when I fell asleep to wash it down. The box was still glowing. The box kept me company. It spoke to me, and told me bedtime stories. It kept the darkness away. It kept the silence away. The box is my friend. I sat up, and lit a cigarette and listened to the stories the box was telling me. Funny, I think it's told me this story before, earlier today even. I couldn't be sure, because my mind felt full of spider webs.

It slowly dawned on me that the box had indeed told me this same story, just earlier today. But I didn't mind. I liked the comfort of familiarity, of predictability. I remember how this story ended. I wouldn't have asked it to tell me another story even if I wanted it to. I had no desire to move at all from where I was sitting. When was the last time I moved anyway? I seem to recall vaguely, the last time I moved it was a bit of a struggle as if I were stuck to something. I wonder how I got stuck.  I wonder how I got free.  I must have gotten free. I don't remember the glowing box, the pills or the brandy being there when I struggled to get free. I wonder when it was when I got free?

[Don Coyote]

I feel like putting a bullet through my head after reading the first page.

[LMNO]

So, what's stopping you?

[BadBeast]

So, what's stopping you?

Sweet Spider love?

[Don Coyote]

So, what's stopping you?

I'd rather put bullets through other people's heads.

[BadBeast]

So, what's stopping you?

I'd rather put bullets through other people's heads.

A surprising amount of people actually survive shooting themselves in the head. The skull is quite hard in most places. and even with the most serious intent, very often the bullet glances off the bone leaving only a superficial wound. Even with the gun barrell placed in the mouth, the curvature of the palette can deflect the bullet into exiting through the back of the neck. If it misses the spinal cord on it's way out, chances of survival are substantial. Experts say the best place to put the barrell is under the chin, and pointing upwards, and an angle of about 15 degrees, ensures the bullet smashes through the brainstem. 
Of course, if the would-be deceased were to choose a shotgun, the result would be much more predictable, but it seems the aesthetics of blowing most of your head clean off, don't fit  the average suicide's idea of a quick, clean death. 

[Don Coyote]

So, what's stopping you?

I'd rather put bullets through other people's heads.

A surprising amount of people actually survive shooting themselves in the head. The skull is quite hard in most places. and even with the most serious intent, very often the bullet glances off the bone leaving only a superficial wound. Even with the gun barrell placed in the mouth, the curvature of the palette can deflect the bullet into exiting through the back of the neck. If it misses the spinal cord on it's way out, chances of survival are substantial. Experts say the best place to put the barrell is under the chin, and pointing upwards, and an angle of about 15 degrees, ensures the bullet smashes through the brainstem. 
Of course, if the would-be deceased were to choose a shotgun, the result would be much more predictable, but it seems the aesthetics of blowing most of your head clean off, don't fit  the average suicide's idea of a quick, clean death. 

If I were to do it with a firearm, that is how I would do it. Shotgun or large caliber bullet, under the chin.

[BadBeast]

So, what's stopping you?

I'd rather put bullets through other people's heads.

A surprising amount of people actually survive shooting themselves in the head. The skull is quite hard in most places. and even with the most serious intent, very often the bullet glances off the bone leaving only a superficial wound. Even with the gun barrell placed in the mouth, the curvature of the palette can deflect the bullet into exiting through the back of the neck. If it misses the spinal cord on it's way out, chances of survival are substantial. Experts say the best place to put the barrell is under the chin, and pointing upwards, and an angle of about 15 degrees, ensures the bullet smashes through the brainstem. 
Of course, if the would-be deceased were to choose a shotgun, the result would be much more predictable, but it seems the aesthetics of blowing most of your head clean off, don't fit  the average suicide's idea of a quick, clean death. 

If I were to do it with a firearm, that is how I would do it. Shotgun or large caliber bullet, under the chin.

Yup. When the chips are down, it's always best to go with the best option available to you. For dramatic effect, a sign hung around the neck, with "Now look what you made me do" or just plain "Happy now"? is a nice touch, and rules out anyone trying to say afterwards (And there's always one) that you were cleaning the gun, and it was just a horrific accident. (Because you wouldn't want anyone to remember you for being that stupid)

[Sir Squid Diddimus]

Oh for fuck's sake just mix a bunch of opiates and wash em down with a bottle of scotch like a normal person.
Shit.

[Reginald Ret]

Or get a syringe and just give your veins some fresh air bubbles.
Or inhale some carbon monoxide, that is as painless a death as you can get.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

"Be still now, just relax, don't struggle," a spider whispered into my ear, as it began to wrap its silk around me. How did I get caught in its web? And why was it talking to me? "To help you relax," it said, one of its legs popping a pill into my mouth. And I started to relax. I stopped struggling. The spider continued to spin. "We're doing this for your own good, really. There's a lot of badness out there, and you will be safe here." I wondered what it was talking about. "Look, see there?" And I saw a glowing box, and the glowing box showed me all the badness that the spider was talking about. "You don't want those people to hurt you do you? They can if you leave the web. Even worse, you can become one of those people. We're saving you from yourself. Oh, I've upset you now. Here, let me change that for you." And then the box showed me good things. Good things that I could have vicariously through my vision. The spider stroked my cheek. "Hush now, don't struggle."