How many people are Addicted to Forums.

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

That's begging to be the opening chapter of a novel.  In fact, if you could sustain that, an entire literary novel on the theme of butthurt would probably sell really fucking well.

Thanks! I've actually never considered that because I've been completely obsessed with expressing "A Universe of Assholes" visually.

I think you've helped me make a breakthrough.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

I was butthurt for years. My asshole was inexplicably and incredibly irritated no matter what I did. Hypoallergenic everything. Cotton underpants. Jamming a giant dildo all up in there. Cutting out the spicy food. Taking medication for intestinal parasites. Having a nurse show me where my prostate is. Showers. Baths. No bathing period. It was fucked up man.

Everywhere I would go, my butthole taunted me. You can't itch it in public but you can scratch your buttcheek in a way that causes friction on your shithole—an art that I mastered very quickly. On an near autonomic level, I would smear my buttcheeks against the chair in a twitch of rage, my face slightly flushing in extreme restrained horror. Did someone see that? Can other people decode these surreptitious anal paroxysms? I became suspicious of anyone shifting a little too vigorously in their seat.

I started having fantasies of being in the passenger seat of a car doing 60 on a gravel road, opening the car door, and dragging my bare anus against the ground. I stopped trusting myself around power sanders. Rose bushes and their long straight stems full of thorns beckoned me. Maybe I could just murder it with a large bore power drill and get a prosthetic anus installed.

I went to a Vipassana meditation retreat for a week where you had to sit still on your ass for hours and hours and hours every day. The first day I wanted to violently attack every human being in my vicinity. Look at those shits, sitting peacefully on their stupid fucking meditation pillows. They have no idea I'm a raging nutcase barely holding on to my stillness by half an ass hair. By day two, I was hallucinating. By day three, I received waking visions of a rusted, filthy ten foot diameter pipe expelling fish at total capacity, but the pipe turned into an laughing Asian man's anus, still excreting the same volume of fish. After the last day, I told everyone I hated them and I went home.

Then, for no apparent reason, I was fine. I have no idea when exactly or why it went away. It was like it never happened. All this time I thought I'd be shitting out a gigantic, mutant tapeworm, snapping at my buttcheeks, thrashing in the toilet water. But instead, it just vanished, just as mysteriously as it arrived.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I was butthurt for years. My asshole was inexplicably and incredibly irritated no matter what I did. Hypoallergenic everything. Cotton underpants. Jamming a giant dildo all up in there. Cutting out the spicy food. Taking medication for intestinal parasites. Having a nurse show me where my prostate is. Showers. Baths. No bathing period. It was fucked up man.

Everywhere I would go, my butthole taunted me. You can't itch it in public but you can scratch your buttcheek in a way that causes friction on your shithole—an art that I mastered very quickly. On an near autonomic level, I would smear my buttcheeks against the chair in a twitch of rage, my face slightly flushing in extreme restrained horror. Did someone see that? Can other people decode these surreptitious anal paroxysms? I became suspicious of anyone shifting a little too vigorously in their seat.

I started having fantasies of being in the passenger seat of a car doing 60 on a gravel road, opening the car door, and dragging my bare anus against the ground. I stopped trusting myself around power sanders. Rose bushes and their long straight stems full of thorns beckoned me. Maybe I could just murder it with a large bore power drill and get a prosthetic anus installed.

I went to a Vipassana meditation retreat for a week where you had to sit still on your ass for hours and hours and hours every day. The first day I wanted to violently attack every human being in my vicinity. Look at those shits, sitting peacefully on their stupid fucking meditation pillows. They have no idea I'm a raging nutcase barely holding on to my stillness by half an ass hair. By day two, I was hallucinating. By day three, I received waking visions of a rusted, filthy ten foot diameter pipe expelling fish at total capacity, but the pipe turned into an laughing Asian man's anus, still excreting the same volume of fish. After the last day, I told everyone I hated them and I went home.

Then, for no apparent reason, I was fine. I have no idea when exactly or why it went away. It was like it never happened. All this time I thought I'd be shitting out a gigantic, mutant tapeworm, snapping at my buttcheeks, thrashing in the toilet water. But instead, it just vanished, just as mysteriously as it arrived.

Net, when you are on your game, nothing can get close to you.   

[Dr. Cow Ass]

Asspain is temporary, and in a sense, slightly enjoyable.

I'm just here for shits and gigs and squirts. 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Asspain is temporary, and in a sense, slightly enjoyable.

I'm just here for shits and gigs and squirts.

And to tell us about irresponsible Black parents, of course.

[Dr. Cow Ass]

Pffffffffffttt!

Newbies, look up our early threads, I still think they're quite good.

[hooplala]

You are in the minority.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Well, you know, if that's all he's got.

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

[Dr. Cow Ass]

Hey WTF Roger, why can't I look at your old posts!

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Hey WTF Roger, why can't I look at your old posts!

A lot of the old stuff got archived then wiped.

At least that's the story I'm sticking to.

[Dr. Cow Ass]

Every post ever? That aint normal around here.

Fuck it man, I'm almost stupid enough to have my own pod cast. Almost.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Every post ever? That aint normal around here.

Fuck it man, I'm almost stupid enough to have my own pod cast. Almost.

Don't sell yourself short.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Every post ever? That aint normal around here.

Fuck it man, I'm almost stupid enough to have my own pod cast. Almost.

Don't ever let them tell you that you can't do it.

[Cain]

You're stupid enough for at least two podcsts in my eyes, CowAss.