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Don't get me wrong, I greatly appreciate the fact that you're at least putting effort into sincerely arguing your points. It's an argument I've enjoyed having. It's just that your points are wrong and your reasons for thinking they're right are stupid.

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The Tower Upon the Mountain

Started by Don Coyote, September 28, 2011, 06:02:08 AM

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Don Coyote

There it is. You can see it shining miles above you upon the greatest mountain in the world. Who is in that tower? Them, They and To Whom It May Concern.
Heartless tyrants all. Guileless scammers. Peddlers of exotic and foul drugs.
They got what you needTM.

But not any more.

You woke up this morning, full, and pissed. Their steaming bullshit is not as satisfying as it once was, even though is comes a combo meal with fries and a "small" fountain drink with a chance to win $10000 and frozen lard for life.

So you grabbed a shovel, and a pick-ax, and marched to the foot of the mountain. You looked up, and vertigo seized you.

You lay there vomiting their vile crap up.

You can see other poor souls writhing in agony.

You can see other poor souls using spoons and tack hammers to attack the foot of the mountain, and suddenly you realize you grabbed a teaspoon and tack hammer.

You look over and see your companions in misery laying on their bellies reaching high over their heads scooping tiny bits of mound of dirt.

You look over and see your companions scooping more dirt onto the mound.

You try to stand.

You remember being able to stand, but Their poisons have crippled your body.

You don't think you can get up.

You know if you could just stand up you could kick over their sand castle.

You try to call out, but merely croak.

If only you could scream, maybe someone would help you up, or help themselves.

But no one can hear.

Their poisons are everywhere.

And you can do is vomit.

ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞

P E R   A S P E R A   A D   A S T R A

Kai

FUCK man. I know exactly what you mean. That vertigo is strong. I look up and I feel like I should just keel over and curl up in a ball. I know that the stuff I'm holding should be dynamite, but instead it looks like toothpicks. And even if I had dynamite, it's just so FUCKING BIG. Those towers. Just so fucking huge. I /want/ to break stuff, but I can't even raise my arms.
If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water. --Loren Eisley, The Immense Journey

Her Royal Majesty's Chief of Insect Genitalia Dissection
Grand Visser of the Six Legged Class
Chanticleer of the Holometabola Clade Church, Diptera Parish

Don Coyote

Another rewrite

There it is. You can see it shining miles above you upon the
Greatest mountain in the world. Who is in that
Tower? Them, They, and To Whom It May Concern.
Heartless tyrants all. Guileless scammers. Peddlers of exotic and foul drugs.
They got what you needTM.

But not anymore.

You woke up this morning, full and pissed. Their
Steaming bullshit is not as satisfying as it once was,
Even though it comes with a combo meal with fries and
A "small" fountain drink with a chance to win $10000 and
Frozen lard for life.

So you grabbed a shovel, and a pick-ax, and marched to the
Foot of the mountain. You looked up, and vertigo seized you.

You lay there vomiting their vile crap up.

You can see other poor souls writhing in agony.

You can see other poor souls using spoons and
Tack hammers to attack the foot of the mountain, and
Suddenly you realize you grabbed a teaspoon and tack hammer.

You look over and see your companions in misery laying
On their bellies reaching high over their heads scooping tiny bits of mound of dirt.

You look over and see your companions scooping more dirt onto the mound.

You try to stand.

You remember being able to stand, but Their poisons have crippled your body.

You don't think you can get up.

You know if you could just stand up you could kick over their sand castle.

You try to call out, but merely croak.

If only you could scream, maybe someone would help you up, or help themselves.

But no one can hear.

Their poisons are everywhere.

And all you can do is vomit.

Mesozoic Mister Nigel

"I'm guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk," Charles Wick said. "It was very complicated."