News:

Hand drawn by monkeys in sweat-shop conditions.

Main Menu

Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2

Started by The Good Reverend Roger, June 09, 2011, 08:35:45 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

Nephew Twiddleton

Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Doktor Howl

Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,

response received yet?

Yes.  My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox.  Will open it shortly.

If it explodes, I will not be amused.
Molon Lube

Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.

Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,

response received yet?

Yes.  My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox.  Will open it shortly.

If it explodes, I will not be amused.

Did my letter ever make it, Dok?
Weevil-Infested Badfun Wrongsex Referee From The 9th Earth
Slick and Deranged Wombat of Manhood Questioning
Hulking Dormouse of Lust and DESPAIR™
Gatling Geyser of Rainbow AIDS

"The only way we can ever change anything is to look in the mirror and find no enemy." - Akala  'Find No Enemy'.

Doktor Howl

Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 30, 2011, 03:09:07 AM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,

response received yet?

Yes.  My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox.  Will open it shortly.

If it explodes, I will not be amused.

Did my letter ever make it, Dok?

Yes, it did.  I read it while suffering the after-effects of a vindaloo binge, and it inspired me to greatess.

Reply forthcoming.

And, as I've said, I am updating the OP of this thread, to show who sent & received what.
Molon Lube

Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.

Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:14:12 AM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on June 30, 2011, 03:09:07 AM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,

response received yet?

Yes.  My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox.  Will open it shortly.

If it explodes, I will not be amused.

Did my letter ever make it, Dok?

Yes, it did.  I read it while suffering the after-effects of a vindaloo binge, and it inspired me to greatess.

Reply forthcoming.

And, as I've said, I am updating the OP of this thread, to show who sent & received what.

Shit, didn't check there first. Sorry, man.
Weevil-Infested Badfun Wrongsex Referee From The 9th Earth
Slick and Deranged Wombat of Manhood Questioning
Hulking Dormouse of Lust and DESPAIR™
Gatling Geyser of Rainbow AIDS

"The only way we can ever change anything is to look in the mirror and find no enemy." - Akala  'Find No Enemy'.

Nephew Twiddleton

Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,

response received yet?

Yes.  My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox.  Will open it shortly.

If it explodes, I will not be amused.

Won't explode. It's just 4 pieces of paper. Let me know when, and I'll post.
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Doktor Howl

Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:48:23 AM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,

response received yet?

Yes.  My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox.  Will open it shortly.

If it explodes, I will not be amused.


Won't explode. It's just 4 pieces of paper. Let me know when, and I'll post.

Post at will, I'm shutting down & going to bed, where I shall read it.

I did see the diploma.  :lulz:
Molon Lube

Nephew Twiddleton

Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:49:11 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:48:23 AM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on June 30, 2011, 03:06:44 AM
Quote from: Nephew Twiddleton on June 30, 2011, 03:02:04 AM
Dok,

response received yet?

Yes.  My son just schlepped it in from the mailbox.  Will open it shortly.

If it explodes, I will not be amused.


Won't explode. It's just 4 pieces of paper. Let me know when, and I'll post.

Post at will, I'm shutting down & going to bed, where I shall read it.

I did see the diploma.  :lulz:

Cool. There will be a couple of min lag, since I'm popping out for a smoke
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Nephew Twiddleton

On letterhead:


Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Dear Doktor Howl,

   I hope that this letter finds you well. It was with great peril that I acquired the one which you sent to me. I travelled many miles from Villager's apartment in Dorchester to Newton, then back to Dorchester for beer and barbecue (which ended up being wine and cheezits). This journey was undertaken via MBTA. I'm not certain if LMNO ever told you, but unlike other subways, the MBTA is a living but largely dormant entity that has been made docile for the purposes of transportation, not unlike the sandworms in Dune, revered as Shai-Hulud. It's a little known fact that Herbert was inspired to write of sandworms after a particularly interesting ride from Park Street.

   Some say it is a god worshiped by the Massachusett; Some say it is a demon subdued by the Freemasons for nefarious puposes; I have heard it said that it is the trapped ghost of Metacomet (though this never made sense to me); and yet others say that it is the reason why we won the Revolution. I am hoping that Villager's infiltration of the Dorchester Historical Society will turn up valuable documents on the matter, especially after today. Whatever MBTA happens to be, it is certain that it wished to deter me from reading your letter, as the Alewife train seemed willing to throw itself off the tracks and down a hill in order to keep me from getting it. I got off at South Station to fool it and instead take the Worcester Line directly to my old abode.

Arriving at the Nepostery, Newton Branch, I read the letter immediately. Clutching the two pages, I made back for Dorchester, and MBTA was enraged. It bucked and lurched, endeavoring to throw me from my seat on the D Line and break my neck. The Ashmont train was just as intent as before when it was heading to Alewife. MBTA was roused from its slumber, and I wonder if it was the presence of something Tucsonian, forcing it to remember the ancient horrors that lay dormant beneath the surface of Bostonia, like some dreadful incantation from the Necronomicon...

Spirits of the Red Line, remember!
Spirits of the Green Line, remember!
Spirits of the Blue Line, remember!
MBTA, delayer of dudes, be praised!
Ia! Ia! In his house at Park Street Station, dead Charlie waits dreaming!

   My other working theory is that the conductors got sick and delirious from the fetor that is my socks in a New England summer. Either way it was a fucking bumpy ride.

   But, that is enough of the ordeals of escaping the wrath of MBTA. In regard to the content of your letter, these are the exact events as foretold in The Holy Book of the Profit-sees of the Spend Times. It's almost like the monkeys are using it as a script, however, it's such a rare and obscure set of predictions, I don't see how they could. For this reason, I have concluded that we are indeed living in the Spend Times. Matter of fact, I believe the Books says that any given point in history falls within the span of the Spend Times. I can't be sure, my copy was translated from German using Google Translate, so, maybe it doesn't say that after all. Google doesn't have much going for it in the nuance department.

   But it seems to indicate a time when everyone will complain about getting everything they ask for, a time when old men will wish for the Bad Ole DaysTM since things were simpler back then, and young men will look forward to a future where they will only end up wishing for their Bad Ole DaysTM, since we at least had abundant electricity. It will be a day where everyone needs to buy that next new gadget because their old one is a year or so obsolete, though perfectly functional. One in which the Specter of Communism has been successfully exorcized by transforming the proletariat into a doodad craving mass to consume the products. And a time when though Communism has become a dead and irrelevant concept, one that is brought up to frighten the proles into selling their souls to the corporations. Every god needs its devil to keep the faithful coming back out of fear. And these people will become a deformed, shapeless mass afflicted with the demon, Taiptu, buying up arms and threatening to drive their Rascals to DC in rebellion every time that black guy comes up with another plot to advance his devil soshulizm.

   As for the lack of having fun with this madness and insanity, people have lost the way. They've been taught for so long that everything is going wrong and yet somehow this is the greatest societal construct that monkeys have ever devised. This paradox confuses them and makes them angry. Thus, no matter how often they get what they want, they will assume there is something wrong with it (and often there is, but the consequences of their choices and laws never occurred to them. Yet is is somehow never their fault).

   This is the Time of the Greyface, in the parlance of our beatnik spiritual forebears. And you are quite correct in saying that something must be done to help them remember how to have fun again, and failing that, at least have fun at their expense.

   In regard to item two of your epistle, I apologize for our neglect in showing Trip and Kirchtorte the best of America, and telling them of our long and righteous history. There's only so much of America that you can show from the animal carcass-strewn forests of Connecticut, and I had figured that Professor Cramulus and Princess Kaosuu would have shown them the East Coast weird in New York and Providence respectively. You'll have to contact them on that matter.

   That said, I am definitely down for going to a Frost Heaves show with any Discordian, European or not, and then continuing the Holy Ritual of Drink MOAR in Providence, as only Rock and Rollers like you and I can do. Villager is cool with driving so long as there is sufficient sunlight. This is good, because she can bail us out after we've gotten a good night's sleep and a hearty meal in Providence's free hotel.

With best wishes,

(Twid's signature here)


Nph. Twiddleton, HD, KSC, ONEC


PS- Corned beef was our first attempt at world domination through gastronomic warfare. Who would have thought that the Bostonians would have developed a taste for it?


Enclosure (which was printed in black and white due to low color ink), signed by myself and Villager.

Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Jenne

HA HA!  :mittens: on the diploma (and letter!), Twid...NICE!

Nephew Twiddleton

I forget how i came up with the idea but once i got it i was like hell yeah!
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Doktor Howl

SQUID:  I have received your reply, and I am not frightened by your voodoo.  My pills are more than adequate to hold any number of spiders at bay, and believe me when I say that this one shall be returned to you in far better (and bigger) shape that it arrived here in.
Molon Lube

Dysfunctional Cunt


Doktor Howl

Dear Khara,

It's a lovely 111F here today, and it feels like I have weights piled on my shoulders.  The smoke from the still-uncontained wildfires is still making everything smell like an ashtray, and the natives are getting reckless (Crime always goes up with the heat.).  This place is paradise, I tell you.

Everything seems pushed down, flattened beneath the pitiless sun.  The general impression you get is that you're a very small bug crawling across a very large plate, with a heat lamp directly overhead. 

The heat & the smoke from the fires has affected the cockroach population, causing it to go completely batshit.  Fortunately, I have the Josef Mengele of the exterminator world, and my house is clear of vermin.  I wish I could say the same about our offices.

But then the sun goes down and the night comes up, and I remember why I love The City.  Nighttime is still a little hot, but bearable, and the police are too busy to worry about a Jeep full of degenerates out looking for Saturday Night.  It's still out there, all you have to do is look for it...Though I might suggest that looking for it in St Louis may not be the wisest course of action.

Straighten out your affairs, and get out here.  Escape that horrible war zone you live in, and come to a place where the criminals are at least interesting.  Nurse Enabler & Freeky will be glad to show you around, and there's no end of good, cheap cuisine.

I kid most people about moving here, but you really should.  We're your people, Khara, and we understand a thing or two about getting our rage on.  For the most part, people stay out of your business, and the only trouble the kids will find is the trouble they go looking for.

Yes, the summer is a bit punishing, but each winter, you can sit with us on top of the mountain, and laugh at the lowlanders as they struggle across their ice sheets or flail about in the incessant flood waters, tornados, and hurricanes visited on them by an angry God.

The world is trapped in a maelstrom right now, and Tucson sits on the outside edge.  This doesn't guarantee safety, but it means that you can watch all the other bastards go under first.  With any luck at all, for example, Washington DC will be uninhabitable within 10 years.  They'll probably move the government to Denver, of course, only to be eaten by wendigos.

Also, we can teach your kids how to use firearms properly.  By this I mean, firing out the window of the Cherokee while roaring through the Santa Rita mountains, or the sport we like to call "sun-roofing", which is best left undescribed.  It has to be experienced in person, to gain a proper appreciation for it.

It is about a 22 hour drive from St Louis, down 44 til you hit Amarillo, then a few minor interchanges, then 60 to Clovis, then 70 through Roswell, and on to Las Cruces, where you pick up I-10W, and it takes you straight to Tucson.  Word of warning:  Just before Alamagordo, you hit White Sands Pass.  Make sure your AC is off, and keep an eye on your engine temperature.  It's a bugger.  Going down the other side is a piece of cake, as it is not nearly so steep.

Also, close your windows in Amarillo.  It's the cattle pen of the West, and the flies are as thick as teabaggers on tax day.

See?  Easy.  If you aren't killed by the Apache in the White Mountain reservation, anyway.  They are normally a likeable bunch, but sometimes they eat too many pickled eggs, and then it's all tomahawks and screaming.  Best not to dwell on that.

Well, enough of that.  Either you will escape, or you won't. 

Not much news, here.  Ian's buggering off to the Marines in September, and Keelin is doing her level best to make everyone in the area crazy.  Freeky is going back to school, and people have finally started to respect my "Leave the Good Doktor alone for the first hour and a half after he gets home" rule.  Honestly, I was beginning to think about putting a cot in my office, just to get some actual rest.

I think what's been getting on my ass is that there simply hasn't been a lot of time for serious degeneracy, lately.  I've put my Slack™ down somewhere, and I can't remember where I left it.  This has to change.

Yes, it must change.  There must be time set aside for Redemption™, our way.  The times are far too ticklish for anything less, and it's not like anyone is going to get my freak on FOR me, right?   No, there is bourbon to drink, cactus to eat, pills to gobble, and Mormons to harangue.  It's only fair, they do it to everyone else.

There are as yet briefly glimpsed but unexplored zones of weirdness, and we have to investigate this shit for SCIENCE!  Just another reason for you to come down here.  I mean, everyone should be exposed to our dirty little civic secrets, at least once.  And once you have, you're addicted.

Just some food for thought.

Okay for now,
Dok
 
Molon Lube

Cramulus


Got my letter! My roommates were in tears when I read it to them. Pinned proudly to my fridge.  :lulz: :lulz: