The Aptly-Named Charley Fuqua has a message for you.

[Cain]

I'm OK with executing children for disobeying me.

Quieter nights, for starters.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

I've only been here for maybe five, possibly six years, but I've never seen a force like TGRR for prompting crazy motherfucker obsessions.

I want to believe, but as the good book says in Mark 9:24, Help my unbelief.  I am game.  What's the win condition here?

And FWIW, you guys aren't taking into account the reality warping abilities of the target.  Motherfucker can literally wrap his mind around damn near inconvenient fact and twist it blaming democrats.  I've seen it for ten goddamned years.  That's why I don't engage him on facts but rather prefer to just straight shit on him.

A lot of them do that. Maybe ALL of them.
It's the only way they can get shit to add up.

[East Coast Hustle]

This thread does put me in mind of a joke.  During a revival meeting for a local church, the visiting pastor has all the parishioners caught up in the spirit.  Some of them are witnessing, some caught up in the spirit, some folks are speaking in tongues.  Everything but the snake handling.

So that pastor takes the mike into the crowd and starts talking with people on the PA.  First guy he talks to says "I need to confess to the sin of gambling!" The entire crowd goes nuts, so the pastor finds another mark to keep the passions rolling "I need to confes to the sin of adultery!"  Again the crowd goes nuts.  So it keeps on.  Stealing.  Fornication.  Mopery.  Satan worship.  You name it.

Finally he gets to one gentleman in the back.  He can just tell this guy was a reprobate and would likely have something to confess.  The pastor just needed a little more from the crowd and the Holy Ghost revival and Pentecost with signs following revival would be a financial success.

"Brother, do you have a sin you'd like to confess?"

"Well, I do have something that I been doing that I don't think is quite right."

"Let it go, brother! Lay it at Jesus's feet! He sacrificed so you can be free!"

"I been fuckin' my brothers pig.  That ain't right, I know he loves that pig and he should be the only one what gets to fuck her."

The pastor now sells used cars off I-70 in Boulder.  I didn't say it was a particularly good joke.

But it does show the dynamic at play with wingnuts. It's a very human reaction, I've seen it in the form of fishing stories with guys at the poker table, kids telling stories but are too young to understand that you can't just pull it out of your ass, and even in bitter drunkalogs in AA halls all over the greater Pierce County area.  And at some point someone will take it a step too far and admit to fucking his brother's pig.  I'd like to think this is it.  But it ain't.

And now I know why you're so bitter.

[Internet Jesus]

Of course.  Peirce County residents are who Tucson residents make fun of when they feel down about living in Tucson.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Of course.  Peirce County residents are who Tucson residents make fun of when they feel down about living in Tucson.

True, true.

But then when we stop, we're still in Tucson.

I love this place, IJ, and I'll never leave.  Ho ho hee heeeeee.

[Internet Jesus]

Yeah, but you're that rare guy who likes the misery. The restored us occasionally need delusions filled with unicorns that shit rainbows.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Yeah, but you're that rare guy who likes the misery. The restored us occasionally need delusions filled with unicorns that shit rainbows.

I like the grit, moreso than the misery.

I was born to live in a pulp noir magazine-esque world, not this brightly-lit plastic hell.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

Fuck unicorns. I just go to Austin and catch a show.

I might sit in the San Antonio bus station all night afterwards, but I REMEMBER, dammit. 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Fuck unicorns. I just go to Austin and catch a show.

I might sit in the San Antonio bus station all night afterwards, but I REMEMBER, dammit. 

Also, there's a lot of Holy™ in bus stations.  Not the GOOD kind of Holy™.  No.  But Holy™ all the same.

All bus stops are actually in Nashville.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

Fuck unicorns. I just go to Austin and catch a show.

I might sit in the San Antonio bus station all night afterwards, but I REMEMBER, dammit. 

Also, there's a lot of Holy™ in bus stations.  Not the GOOD kind of Holy™.  No.  But Holy™ all the same.

All bus stops are actually in Nashville.

Yes. It's a peak-high-to-HORROR^(TM) experience.

I go. I slip through clots of hipster zombies and find My People. We have actual conversations. We trash talk Reagan and hipsters and all manner of evil and stupidity. They tell me about the world beyond AMURKA^(TM). I belly up to the stage and the Marshall stacks blast all the Seguin^(TM) out. It's like suddenly becoming cancer free, but only for a little while. We say goodbye. And I go to a place that's blasting FOX news and peopled by obese walking dead asking for cigarettes and spare change. After many hours, I board the bus. Sometimes they stop and get the cops because some old guy pulled his dick out at a teenaged girl. He always says she was the one who flashed him.

Not for the faint of heart. 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Fuck unicorns. I just go to Austin and catch a show.

I might sit in the San Antonio bus station all night afterwards, but I REMEMBER, dammit. 

Also, there's a lot of Holy™ in bus stations.  Not the GOOD kind of Holy™.  No.  But Holy™ all the same.

All bus stops are actually in Nashville.

Yes. It's a peak-high-to-HORROR^(TM) experience.

I go. I slip through clots of hipster zombies and find My People. We have actual conversations. We trash talk Reagan and hipsters and all manner of evil and stupidity. They tell me about the world beyond AMURKA^(TM). I belly up to the stage and the Marshall stacks blast all the Seguin^(TM) out. It's like suddenly becoming cancer free, but only for a little while. We say goodbye. And I go to a place that's blasting FOX news and peopled by obese walking dead asking for cigarettes and spare change. After many hours, I board the bus. Sometimes they stop and get the cops because some old guy pulled his dick out at a teenaged girl. He always says she was the one who flashed him.

Not for the faint of heart. 

The bus station is one of the few places that you can see the bricks that make up the foundation of America.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

Fuck unicorns. I just go to Austin and catch a show.

I might sit in the San Antonio bus station all night afterwards, but I REMEMBER, dammit. 

Also, there's a lot of Holy™ in bus stations.  Not the GOOD kind of Holy™.  No.  But Holy™ all the same.

All bus stops are actually in Nashville.

Yes. It's a peak-high-to-HORROR^(TM) experience.

I go. I slip through clots of hipster zombies and find My People. We have actual conversations. We trash talk Reagan and hipsters and all manner of evil and stupidity. They tell me about the world beyond AMURKA^(TM). I belly up to the stage and the Marshall stacks blast all the Seguin^(TM) out. It's like suddenly becoming cancer free, but only for a little while. We say goodbye. And I go to a place that's blasting FOX news and peopled by obese walking dead asking for cigarettes and spare change. After many hours, I board the bus. Sometimes they stop and get the cops because some old guy pulled his dick out at a teenaged girl. He always says she was the one who flashed him.

Not for the faint of heart. 

The bus station is one of the few places that you can see the bricks that make up the foundation of America.

I think the bus station is the REAL America. Everything else is a thin veneer, and it's peeling. Rapidly. 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Fuck unicorns. I just go to Austin and catch a show.

I might sit in the San Antonio bus station all night afterwards, but I REMEMBER, dammit. 

Also, there's a lot of Holy™ in bus stations.  Not the GOOD kind of Holy™.  No.  But Holy™ all the same.

All bus stops are actually in Nashville.

Yes. It's a peak-high-to-HORROR^(TM) experience.

I go. I slip through clots of hipster zombies and find My People. We have actual conversations. We trash talk Reagan and hipsters and all manner of evil and stupidity. They tell me about the world beyond AMURKA^(TM). I belly up to the stage and the Marshall stacks blast all the Seguin^(TM) out. It's like suddenly becoming cancer free, but only for a little while. We say goodbye. And I go to a place that's blasting FOX news and peopled by obese walking dead asking for cigarettes and spare change. After many hours, I board the bus. Sometimes they stop and get the cops because some old guy pulled his dick out at a teenaged girl. He always says she was the one who flashed him.

Not for the faint of heart. 

The bus station is one of the few places that you can see the bricks that make up the foundation of America.

I think the bus station is the REAL America. Everything else is a thin veneer, and it's peeling. Rapidly. 

The bricks are made out of poo.  Just saying.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

Fuck unicorns. I just go to Austin and catch a show.

I might sit in the San Antonio bus station all night afterwards, but I REMEMBER, dammit. 

Also, there's a lot of Holy™ in bus stations.  Not the GOOD kind of Holy™.  No.  But Holy™ all the same.

All bus stops are actually in Nashville.

Yes. It's a peak-high-to-HORROR^(TM) experience.

I go. I slip through clots of hipster zombies and find My People. We have actual conversations. We trash talk Reagan and hipsters and all manner of evil and stupidity. They tell me about the world beyond AMURKA^(TM). I belly up to the stage and the Marshall stacks blast all the Seguin^(TM) out. It's like suddenly becoming cancer free, but only for a little while. We say goodbye. And I go to a place that's blasting FOX news and peopled by obese walking dead asking for cigarettes and spare change. After many hours, I board the bus. Sometimes they stop and get the cops because some old guy pulled his dick out at a teenaged girl. He always says she was the one who flashed him.

Not for the faint of heart. 

The bus station is one of the few places that you can see the bricks that make up the foundation of America.

I think the bus station is the REAL America. Everything else is a thin veneer, and it's peeling. Rapidly. 

The bricks are made out of poo.  Just saying.

And the floor is compacted blood and vomit and hard tears.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Fuck unicorns. I just go to Austin and catch a show.

I might sit in the San Antonio bus station all night afterwards, but I REMEMBER, dammit. 

Also, there's a lot of Holy™ in bus stations.  Not the GOOD kind of Holy™.  No.  But Holy™ all the same.

All bus stops are actually in Nashville.

Yes. It's a peak-high-to-HORROR^(TM) experience.

I go. I slip through clots of hipster zombies and find My People. We have actual conversations. We trash talk Reagan and hipsters and all manner of evil and stupidity. They tell me about the world beyond AMURKA^(TM). I belly up to the stage and the Marshall stacks blast all the Seguin^(TM) out. It's like suddenly becoming cancer free, but only for a little while. We say goodbye. And I go to a place that's blasting FOX news and peopled by obese walking dead asking for cigarettes and spare change. After many hours, I board the bus. Sometimes they stop and get the cops because some old guy pulled his dick out at a teenaged girl. He always says she was the one who flashed him.

Not for the faint of heart. 

The bus station is one of the few places that you can see the bricks that make up the foundation of America.

I think the bus station is the REAL America. Everything else is a thin veneer, and it's peeling. Rapidly. 

The bricks are made out of poo.  Just saying.

And the floor is compacted blood and vomit and hard tears.

We build these things, down here in the basement, according to the prints and diagrams sent to us by Hirley0.  This is why everything defaults to main.