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Topics - Horab Fibslager

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Or Kill Me / there are no cookeis and pie anywhere.
« on: April 16, 2005, 12:34:41 am »
nto as so much a rant, btu on fluff, cookies and pie, putting one's foot in one;s mouth, and beign frstrated by the way.

WHEN all the world recognizes beauty as beauty,
this in itself is ugliness.
When all the world recognizes good as good, this in
itself is evil.

Indeed, the hidden and the manifest give birth to each other.
Difficult and easy complement each other.
Long and short exhibit each other.
High and low set measure to each other.
Voice and sound harmonize each other.
Back and front follow each other.

Therefore, the Sage manages his affairs without ado,
And spreads his teaching without talking.
He denies nothing to the teeming things.
He rears them, but lays no claim to them.
He does his work, but sets no store by it.
He accomplishes his task, but does not dwell upon it.

And yet it is just because he does not dwell on it
That nobody can ever take it away from him.

-lao tzu, translated by C. H. Wu(shambhala pocket edition.)

Literate Chaotic / titles can go fuck themselves
« on: April 11, 2005, 02:39:40 am »

i suddenly found myself in the flesh, sitting on a toilet in a stall in some washroom. i wiped my ass and pulle dup my pants. she has soem kinda sense of humour thats for sure. i gently prod at the door. solid. in the flesh. double yoo tee eff i mutter, and unlatch it. i take a look at the mirror. and i need a shave. the suit is decent, and i can feel the waeight of nancy on my kidney. trusty nancy, with her by my side i could take ont eh paniverse. but one thign at a time. i wash my hand and splash water on my face, run my fingers through my hair. i'm balder and i need a shave, but it's all good. it's been years since i've aged, or had flesh to age, so no complaints. dryignmy hands on the bleached mulched flesh of a tree, i walk out the door and on down the hall. a bar or a public house, it's dark and a karaoke machine is being weilded by a japanese man who is givign his heart and soul to love me tender while elvis is rolling somersaults in his grave. i saddle up on a stool and nod at the waitress. she gives me a smile and i giver a wink. canadian i drawl, and she crouches to a fridge under the bar and poppnig off the lid passes me ice cold sunshine. i give her a smile and thanks, and take a swig.
a smoke appears from midair held out by a striking woman with dark red brown almost brown or black and eyes fierce and soft and seductive and everythign in between, i take the smoke without a word and without taking my eyes off of hers, knwoign a man could lose himself in them or even die from them.
you're looking well H, not even gonna say hello?
hey babe, i've never felt better, cept when i ws dead.
well what's tehuse of a dead god when only flesh will do?
cut to the chase sister, we don't got all night.
you're right we got eternity and a half H, why don't you go sign a song for me?
the karaoke impressario shouts onhis mike "strangerinteh brown suit, come on up an dsing a tune for us tonight!" i i glare at Her and mozie on over, i say to him house of the rising sun? it's nto a question and hte rhtmic music is pullsing as i lay upon th emic with a voice remincnesent of a biker scraping across a hundred meters of pavement praying the girl on teh back goes quick, tears on my eyes as teh feeling washesout teh rapture of ten thousand apocalypses. i put the mic back after muttering my thanks to a crowd that didn't hear a word, and go back over to my stool.
did i ever tell you you have the saddest eyes i've ever seen H?
i'm sure you didn;t call me back to seduce me babe, so give me the good word already.
I need a hero H, the world needs a hero. you know any sueprheros H?
if i see any i'll eb sure to ysend em your way.
Someoen you knwo needs a superhero H, you always gonna walk away?

when i stumbled outta th ebar 6 hours later, i didn't know wherei was going, but i knew where i was going, straight into the abysmal depths of eternal hell.

Literate Chaotic / your signature is too long.
« on: April 10, 2005, 07:55:14 pm »
my oh my we dropped two tabs and teh walls started moving, i found myself sitting in a booth a karaoke apocalypse vibratign all around me and a dimefull of dozens of drinks consumed simulataneous by pinkfleshpots to congest their systems satisfactorly. the bald guy with the moustache gets up and falls down, head bleedign and women screaming, and i yell out cackling, soemone give that man some pants damn you! paul said rab your'e up and i got up and unleashed soem roadhouse blues and time shifted adn the singularity formed in the middle of the dance floor, deleting sprites from teh matrix in the blink of the eye, and holly was complimenting my fashion sense and i met carl again for the 6th time. and of course crystal was oddly, and the new waitress says come in on monday and we'll chat. ohhh kay i say, but i'm broke babe, but i'll see what you can do. never endear yourself to a woman who knopws she's beautful, the only way to deal with that sort is to play it cool then sing hey jude followed by comfortably numb in near mumbles ceopt fro teh screma when you unleash a whoel fuckin AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH which of coruse catches them off guard and makes them look wide eyed as i smile  crooked and mellow eyed, sharp minded. yes that is the way i designed it.

Or Kill Me / more proof horab smokes mad meth
« on: April 02, 2005, 09:40:36 pm »

Or Kill Me / baking with horab
« on: March 28, 2005, 05:36:05 am »
sisters, brothers, edible pets, and inteligent wildlife,

i am confused.

i know, i know, this comes as no surpise to you, the heathen faithful.

but i ahve a question, what exactly is the cookies and pei you are referign to?

and what has cookies and/or pie ever done to you?

i mean, cookies tend to be, soem sort of flour and possibly egg based hard small cake deal thing, roundish, soemtimes with cohcalate chips, i spose it depends on you really, pies a sort of crust filled with delicious fruit filling, or whatever comes tomind, such as blackbirds or small children, and covered in a softer crust, or the same crust, i never really worked that one out myself.

or, what, she's talkign to me again, thank ya eris, hell yeah!

she's told me cookies and pie are the non serious discussion that take place on any given message board ont eh interent.

such as word games, or rambling, meanderign discussions, that travel over the hills and under the valleys, sitting on trees that anotehr threadmay have pissed on, and laughing alot.

well what exactly is wrong with that?

are we sposed to go around and discuss not funny things and try to be not funny or lighthearted? andbe very serious and grumpy an d say "hey this world sucks, let's blow it up! or soemthign to that effect?

i'm nto really sure. and she keeps distracting me with tickles and giggles and hey you don't touch me there when i'm typing please. thanks.

because you see, it's all fine and stuff to want toinitiate and carry through with a change, but then the last two world wars were helluva a change and many though tthey'd seen the end of war.

but boy were tehy wrong. there's still racists in germany, an d in adition, there's alot of really kinky shit there too, which would make the most promiscuous vampire sadomasochists in north america red with embarrasment. i spsoe that's nto really what teh allies had intended, btu it's popular these days. sex on tv and the like, wage slavery and image, andallt eh at stuff. in fact, in many ways you coudl say we've taken a step or few back from world war two, and from one, or not. i'm not really sure, you see it's all backwards and sideways from then, but scertainyl there has been a lot of positive change or ot.

who can say?

oh, she says i'm going off topic here. ouch!

ahh where was i cookeis and pie?

well i don't really get it. i'm nto so sure if it's so much a discordian thing, as msot of the places i've been to, uh forums i mean, on this internet deal thing, were largely uh silly games and meanderign discussions ebtween peopel who were by all appearances freinds. soemof these message baord forum things even had uh seriosu sections. now these uh serious sectosn really scare me, they're home to people who are imppassioned, peopel, who have a cause or who care. and most of all tehse people are idiots. seriously. tehse places fill up with htread s with names like"do you think george dubya bush is jsutified in invading iraq" which is followed by a psot telling you wetheror not he was, and why, and often with the worst of reason. often these sorts of threads degrade into soem sort of general anti or pro americanism, or anti and pro whateverism. or jsut anti whateverism, or pro whateverism.

ladies and gentlebeigs of the jury i present exhibit a (which after a glance looks alot milder than when i was there, posting icnredibly obnoxiosu things, includin- in a thread discussing the validity of homosexuality, "if i were gay, i'd shove a shotgun up my ass and pull the trigger", however, i didn;t lookat the religious section, which was at many times, a haven for anti religion atheists to chasitze and poor soul who wandered in)

of course, if you go to exhibit b you may notice quite  aidfference int eh attitude and atmosphere, tho it's all cookie's and pie.

these may eb bad examples. i stay away fromt eh place. i pissed off pretty much all the decent posters with my obnoxiousness, btu hey it is a video game forum, adn that is what they're there for.

of coruse by that same token, i was a troll, in the purest sense, me and soem kingdom mates woudl go on down whiel chattign on irc and give awesoem advice to n00bs, and flame idiots who gave terribel wrong advice, we'd maek fun of them by giving baltantly bad advice, adnworse have them agree with teh bad stuff, game related, we'd go and join serious discussions and give retarded arguments, often int eh fom stated above near ex. b. my kd mates, were a cross section of the world americans, candians europeans, we all got a great kick out of it, and enlightened absolutely nobody. well maybe one or two folks, but we got our kicks, any way, and temp banned quite often.

but then it wasn;t my backyard, iw as trollign someone' else's community, where it was someone else beign retarded, close minded, open minded with no one soprtign, or drivign as it were, adn the like.

and so it comes down to the thign that killed 23ae. was it really a database crash? or was it soem guy who argued passionately that everyone tehre was a bleeding hear tliberal? was it the other guy who posted werid ass ad peppered posts? was ti the fella who posted photoshoped pens art collages?

i dunjno man, but ti certainyl wasn't cthulu, or cookies, or pie.

nto that i'm worried abotu this baord dying. this baord will eb alive and well long after i no longer have the interent for soem reason or ayother, long after the interent explodes from too many blogs, and too little pr0n.
verily, will many thigns come to pass.

Quote from: eris
what the fuck are you on about horab?

i dunno man, i'm pretty confused.

Or Kill Me / message to miranda july
« on: March 23, 2005, 10:23:26 am »



whoah caps lock dude,. wtf?

i can japan motherfucker. you gonna test? good, i hoped so, now let's have some not sushi burgas. let's eat american food and pretend it's foreign and exotic, let's enjoy the cultural expereince of living where we live here and now in our time now and here. 20 yeara go? way too late. the radio? wher eis it? i can't see it! you don't understand. or maybe you do. if you'r readinthis, you probaly don't knwo how to contact me,if you're readin this,you proably don't klnwo where to look, or maybe you do, and maybe this isn't an illusion, a carpet rolel dover waht is by thsoe mdaned fuckin ggarnde gnomes and their hideous plots to subservuate the flowers an dht epeple san dthe movinig things!

no, you are to late, that was 23 years ago, and 3 months and 15 days.

yes, i can japan too motherfuckers.

Or Kill Me / you'd be scared too.
« on: March 22, 2005, 06:25:26 am »
if you haven't read james joyce's portrait of the artist as a young man
i totally recomend it, great book. a great isnight into a great many things.

if the chirstians are at all right, here's adescriptor of what we may expect.

Time passed.

He sat again in the front bench of the chapel. The daylight without was already failing and, as it fell slowly through the dull red blinds, it seemed that the sun of the last day was going down and that all souls were being gathered for the judgement.

-- I am cast away from the sight of Thine eyes: words taken, my dear little brothers in Christ, from the Book of Psalms, thirtieth chapter, twenty-third verse. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

The preacher began to speak in a quiet friendly tone. His face was kind and he joined gently the fingers of each hand, forming a frail cage by the union of their tips.

-- This morning we endeavoured, in our reflection upon hell, to make what our holy founder calls in his book of spiritual exercises, the composition of place. We endeavoured, that is, to imagine with the senses of the mind, in our imagination, the material character of that awful place and of the physical torments which all who are in hell endure. This evening we shall consider for a few moments the nature of the spiritual torments of hell.

-- Sin, remember, is a twofold enormity. It is a base consent to the promptings of our corrupt nature to the lower instincts, to that which is gross and beast-like; and it is also a turning away from the counsel of our higher nature, from all that is pure and holy, from the Holy God Himself. For this reason mortal sin is punished in hell by two different forms of punishment, physical and spiritual.

Now of all these spiritual pains by far the greatest is the pain of loss, so great, in fact, that in itself it is a torment greater than all the others. Saint Thomas, the greatest doctor of the church, the angelic doctor, as he is called, says that the worst damnation consists in this, that the understanding of man is totally deprived of divine light and his affection obstinately turned away from the goodness of God. God, remember, is a being infinitely good, and therefore the loss of such a being must be a loss infinitely painful. In this life we have not a very clear idea of what such a loss must be, but the damned in hell, for their greater torment, have a full understanding of that which they have lost, and understand that they have lost it through their own sins and have lost it for ever. At the very instant of death the bonds of the flesh are broken asunder and the soul at once flies towards God as towards the centre of her existence. Remember, my dear little boys, our souls long to be with God. We come from God, we live by God, we belong to God: we are His, inalienably His. God loves with a divine love every human soul, and every human soul lives in that love. How could it be otherwise? Every breath that we draw, every thought of our brain, every instant of life proceeds from God's inexhaustible goodness. And if it be pain for a mother to be parted from her child, for a man to be exiled from hearth and home, for friend to be sundered from friend, O think what pain, what anguish it must be for the poor soul to be spurned from the presence of the supremely good and loving Creator Who has called that soul into existence from nothingness and sustained it in life and loved it with an immeasurable love. This, then, to be separated for ever from its greatest good, from God, and to feel the anguish of that separation, knowing full well that it is unchangeable: this is the greatest torment which the created soul is capable of bearing, poena damni, the pain of loss.

The second pain which will afflict the souls of the damned in hell is the pain of conscience. Just as in dead bodies worms are engendered by putrefaction, so in the souls of the lost there arises a perpetual remorse from the putrefaction of sin, the sting of conscience, the worm, as Pope Innocent the Third calls it, of the triple sting. The first sting inflicted by this cruel worm will be the memory of past pleasures. O what a dreadful memory will that be! In the lake of all-devouring flame the proud king will remember the pomps of his court, the wise but wicked man his libraries and instruments of research, the lover of artistic pleasures his marbles and pictures and other art treasures, he who delighted in the pleasures of the table his gorgeous feasts, his dishes prepared with such delicacy, his choice wines; the miser will remember his hoard of gold, the robber his ill-gotten wealth, the angry and revengeful and merciless murderers their deeds of blood and violence in which they revelled, the impure and adulterous the unspeakable and filthy pleasures in which they delighted. They will remember all this and loathe themselves and their sins. For how miserable will all those pleasures seem to the soul condemned to suffer in hellfire for ages and ages. How they will rage and fume to think that they have lost the bliss of heaven for the dross of earth, for a few pieces of metal, for vain honours, for bodily comforts, for a tingling of the nerves. They will repent indeed: and this is the second sting of the worm of conscience, a late and fruitless sorrow for sins committed. Divine justice insists that the understanding of those miserable wretches be fixed continually on the sins of which they were guilty, and moreover, as saint Augustine points out, God will impart to them His own knowledge of sin, so that sin will appear to them in all its hideous malice as it appears to the eyes of God Himself. They will behold their sins in all their foulness and repent but it will be too late and then they will bewail the good occasions which they neglected. This is the last and deepest and most cruel sting of the worm of conscience. The conscience will say: You had time and opportunity to repent and would not. You were brought up religiously by your parents. You had the sacraments and grace and indulgences of the church to aid you. You had the minister of God to preach to you, to call you back when you had strayed, to forgive you your sins, no matter how many, how abominable, if only you had confessed and repented. No. You would not. You flouted the ministers of holy religion, you turned your back on the confessional, you wallowed deeper and deeper in the mire of sin. God appealed to you, threatened you, entreated you to return to Him. O, what shame, what misery! The Ruler of the universe entreated you, a creature of clay, to love Him Who made you and to keep His law. No. You would not. And now, though you were to flood all hell with your tears if you could still weep, all that sea of repentance would not gain for you what a single tear of true repentance shed during your mortal life would have gained for you. You implore now a moment of earthly life wherein to repent: In vain. That time is gone: gone for ever.

-- Such is the threefold sting of conscience, the viper which gnaws the very heart's core of the wretches in hell, so that filled with hellish fury they curse themselves for their folly and curse the evil companions who have brought them to such ruin and curse the devils who tempted them in life and now mock them in eternity and even revile and curse the Supreme Being Whose goodness and patience they scorned and slighted but Whose justice and power they cannot evade.

-- The next spiritual pain to which the damned are subjected is the pain of extension. Man, in this earthly life, though he be capable of many evils, is not capable of them all at once, inasmuch as one evil corrects and counteracts another just as one poison frequently corrects another. In hell, on the contrary, one torment, instead of counteracting another, lends it still greater force: and, moreover, as the internal faculties are more perfect than the external senses, so are they more capable of suffering. Just as every sense is afflicted with a fitting torment, so is every spiritual faculty; the fancy with horrible images, the sensitive faculty with alternate longing and rage, the mind and understanding with an interior darkness more terrible even than the exterior darkness which reigns in that dreadful prison. The malice, impotent though it be, which possesses these demon souls is an evil of boundless extension, of limitless duration, a frightful state of wickedness which we can scarcely realize unless we bear in mind the enormity of sin and the hatred God bears to it.

-- Opposed to this pain of extension and yet coexistent with it we have the pain of intensity. Hell is the centre of evils and, as you know, things are more intense at their centres than at their remotest points. There are no contraries or admixtures of any kind to temper or soften in the least the pains of hell. Nay, things which are good in themselves become evil in hell. Company, elsewhere a source of comfort to the afflicted, will be there a continual torment: knowledge, so much longed for as the chief good of the intellect, will there be hated worse than ignorance: light, so much coveted by all creatures from the lord of creation down to the humblest plant in the forest, will be loathed intensely. In this life our sorrows are either not very long or not very great because nature either overcomes them by habits or puts an end to them by sinking under their weight. But in hell the torments cannot be overcome by habit, for while they are of terrible intensity they are at the same time of continual variety, each pain, so to speak, taking fire from another and re-endowing that which has enkindled it with a still fiercer flame. Nor can nature escape from these intense and various tortures by succumbing to them for the soul is sustained and maintained in evil so that its suffering may be the greater. Boundless extension of torment, incredible intensity of suffering, unceasing variety of torture - this is what the divine majesty, so outraged by sinners, demands; this is what the holiness of heaven, slighted and set aside for the lustful and low pleasures of the corrupt flesh, requires; this is what the blood of the innocent Lamb of God, shed for the redemption of sinners, trampled upon by the vilest of the vile, insists upon.

-- Last and crowning torture of all the tortures of that awful place is the eternity of hell. Eternity! O, dread and dire word. Eternity! What mind of man can understand it? And remember, it is an eternity of pain. Even though the pains of hell were not so terrible as they are, yet they would become infinite, as they are destined to last for ever. But while they are everlasting they are at the same time, as you know, intolerably intense, unbearably extensive. To bear even the sting of an insect for all eternity would be a dreadful torment. What must it be, then, to bear the manifold tortures of hell for ever? For ever! For all eternity! Not for a year or for an age but for ever. Try to imagine the awful meaning of this. You have often seen the sand on the seashore. How fine are its tiny grains! And how many of those tiny little grains go to make up the small handful which a child grasps in its play. Now imagine a mountain of that sand, a million miles high, reaching from the earth to the farthest heavens, and a million miles broad, extending to remotest space, and a million miles in thickness; and imagine such an enormous mass of countless particles of sand multiplied as often as there are leaves in the forest, drops of water in the mighty ocean, feathers on birds, scales on fish, hairs on animals, atoms in the vast expanse of the air: and imagine that at the end of every million years a little bird came to that mountain and carried away in its beak a tiny grain of that sand. How many millions upon millions of centuries would pass before that bird had carried away even a square foot of that mountain, how many eons upon eons of ages before it had carried away all? Yet at the end of that immense stretch of time not even one instant of eternity could be said to have ended. At the end of all those billions and trillions of years eternity would have scarcely begun. And if that mountain rose again after it had been all carried away, and if the bird came again and carried it all away again grain by grain, and if it so rose and sank as many times as there are stars in the sky, atoms in the air, drops of water in the sea, leaves on the trees, feathers upon birds, scales upon fish, hairs upon animals, at the end of all those innumerable risings and sinkings of that immeasurably vast mountain not one single instant of eternity could be said to have ended; even then, at the end of such a period, after that eon of time the mere thought of which makes our very brain reel dizzily, eternity would scarcely have begun.

-- A holy saint (one of our own fathers I believe it was) was once vouchsafed a vision of hell. It seemed to him that he stood in the midst of a great hall, dark and silent save for the ticking of a great clock. The ticking went on unceasingly; and it seemed to this saint that the sound of the ticking was the ceaseless repetition of the words - ever, never; ever, never. Ever to be in hell, never to be in heaven; ever to be shut off from the presence of God, never to enjoy the beatific vision; ever to be eaten with flames, gnawed by vermin, goaded with burning spikes, never to be free from those pains; ever to have the conscience upbraid one, the memory enrage, the mind filled with darkness and despair, never to escape; ever to curse and revile the foul demons who gloat fiendishly over the misery of their dupes, never to behold the shining raiment of the blessed spirits; ever to cry out of the abyss of fire to God for an instant, a single instant, of respite from such awful agony, never to receive, even for an instant, God's pardon; ever to suffer, never to enjoy; ever to be damned, never to be saved; ever, never; ever, never. O, what a dreadful punishment! An eternity of endless agony, of endless bodily and spiritual torment, without one ray of hope, without one moment of cessation, of agony limitless in intensity, of torment infinitely varied, of torture that sustains eternally that which it eternally devours, of anguish that everlastingly preys upon the spirit while it racks the flesh, an eternity, every instant of which is itself an eternity of woe. Such is the terrible punishment decreed for those who die in mortal sin by an almighty and a just God.

-- Yes, a just God! Men, reasoning always as men, are astonished that God should mete out an everlasting and infinite punishment in the fires of hell for a single grievous sin. They reason thus because, blinded by the gross illusion of the flesh and the darkness of human understanding, they are unable to comprehend the hideous malice of mortal sin. They reason thus because they are unable to comprehend that even venial sin is of such a foul and hideous nature that even if the omnipotent Creator could end all the evil and misery in the world, the wars, the diseases, the robberies, the crimes, the deaths, the murders, on condition that he allowed a single venial sin to pass unpunished, a single venial sin, a lie, an angry look, a moment of wilful sloth, He, the great omnipotent God could not do so because sin, be it in thought or deed, is a transgression of His law and God would not be God if He did not punish the transgressor.

-- A sin, an instant of rebellious pride of the intellect, made Lucifer and a third part of the cohort of angels fall from their glory. A sin, an instant of folly and weakness, drove Adam and Eve out of Eden and brought death and suffering into the world. To retrieve the consequences of that sin the Only Begotten Son of God came down to earth, lived and suffered and died a most painful death, hanging for three hours on the cross.

-- O, my dear little brethren in Christ Jesus, will we then offend that good Redeemer and provoke His anger? Will we trample again upon that torn and mangled corpse? Will we spit upon that face so full of sorrow and love? Will we too, like the cruel jews and the brutal soldiers, mock that gentle and compassionate Saviour Who trod alone for our sake the awful wine-press of sorrow? Every word of sin is a wound in His tender side. Every sinful act is a thorn piercing His head. Every impure thought, deliberately yielded to, is a keen lance transfixing that sacred and loving heart. No, no. It is impossible for any human being to do that which offends so deeply the divine majesty, that which is punished by an eternity of agony, that which crucifies again the Son of God and makes a mockery of Him.

-- I pray to God that my poor words may have availed today to confirm in holiness those who are in a state of grace, to strengthen the wavering, to lead back to the state of grace the poor soul that has strayed if any such be among you. I pray to God, and do you pray with me, that we may repent of our sins. I will ask you now, all of you, to repeat after me the act of contrition, kneeling here in this humble chapel in the presence of God. He is there in the tabernacle burning with love for mankind, ready to comfort the afflicted. Be not afraid. No matter how many or how foul the sins if you only repent of them they will be forgiven you. Let no worldly shame hold you back. God is still the merciful Lord who wishes not the eternal death of the sinner but rather that he be converted and live.

-- He calls you to Him. You are His. He made you out of nothing. He loved you as only a God can love. His arms are open to receive you even though you have sinned against Him. Come to Him, poor sinner, poor vain and erring sinner. Now is the acceptable time. Now is the hour.

The priest rose and, turning towards the altar, knelt upon the step before the tabernacle in the fallen gloom. He waited till all in the chapel had knelt and every least noise was still. Then, raising his head, he repeated the act of contrition, phrase by phrase, with fervour. The boys answered him phrase by phrase. Stephen, his tongue cleaving to his palate, bowed his head, praying with his heart.

-- O my God! --
-- O my God! --
-- I am heartily sorry --
-- I am heartily sorry --
-- for having offended Thee --
-- for having offended Thee --
-- and I detest my sins --
-- and I detest my sins --
-- above every other evil --
-- above every other evil --
-- because they displease Thee, my God --
-- because they displease Thee, my God --
-- Who art so deserving --
-- Who art so deserving --
-- of all my love --
-- of all my love --
-- and I firmly purpose --
-- and I firmly purpose --
-- by Thy holy grace --
-- by Thy holy grace --
-- never more to offend Thee --
-- never more to offend Thee --
-- and to amend my life --
-- and to amend my life --

He went up to his room after dinner in order to be alone with his soul, and at every step his soul seemed to sigh; at every step his soul mounted with his feet, sighing in the ascent, through a region of viscid gloom.

my apologies for the length of it.
see yall in hell!

Or Kill Me / fuck it.
« on: March 19, 2005, 06:10:46 am »
say it.

jsut fucking say it already. everyone invloved, get it the fuck out there.

what i did to that poor eric fellow was brutal, but at least it was honest.

it was childish, it was malign.

what's going on, what's been going on is worse.

dont' post it in pm's, post it here, dont' talk no bullshit about bush or poltics or savign the world. post waht you see to be teh truth about it.

or don't.

or tell me to leave if that's what you want. i'm not really sure, but this is looking like a good way to see that done, tho don't take that as a threat either. i'll go because i don't liek the noise. i liek msot of the folks here, i liek how because of the forum name and address, new and strange peopel come here now and then, and some of them stick around for a while.

i have nothing more to say on this to anyone- except

if you think this crap is a midnfuck, it's not, it's teh same old workplace drama that ruined, or at the very least impaired my lame ass burga career, my own responsibility not with standing, it's nto funny, it's nto thought provoking, it's the same shit why my parents are divorced. it's shit i cant; stand in people. i can very well damn well understand peopel ebign touchy at teach otehr, i can very well damnwell understand my own part it in it, you've got soemthign to say to me, i am all ears. or eyes. i'm touchy too at times, butthis was outta hadn before, it's outta hand again.

and no, this isn;t about me. but i'm the only reference post i'm weilling to sacrifice, the only reference i'm know well enough.

i may be a fuckign madman, but at least i have the balls to say it.


Or Kill Me / me and hoshi are gettign married
« on: March 18, 2005, 09:14:38 am »
the date is undecied, but me and hoshi have decied to tie the ol knot as it were. she willeb the nija, i will eb the lumberjack, we need a minsiter or pastor or episkopos to priside. everyone is invted but you msut bring cookies and get drunk, and bring us beeer and cookies. the wedding cermony will eb followed shortly after by the happy couple being divorced, from which i will receive a beer, adn hoshi will get soem tofu. also everyoen ahs to get drunk twice, as per the pre-nuptial agreement.

Or Kill Me / wouldnt fit in the sig
« on: March 16, 2005, 02:19:11 am »
shock1 :
VERB:   1. To deprive of courage or the power to act as a result of fear, anxiety, or disgust: appall, consternate, daunt, dismay, horrify, shake. See FEAR. 2. To affect with a strong feeling of moral aversion: scandalize. See RIGHT. 3. To cause to experience a sudden momentary shock: electrify, jolt, startle. See EXCITE, SURPRISE. 4. To inflict physical or mental injury or distress on: traumatize, wound. See HELP.
NOUN:   Great agitation and anxiety caused by the expectation or the realization of danger: affright, alarm, apprehension, dread, fear, fearfulness, fright, funk, horror, panic, trepidation. Slang : cold feet. Idioms: fear and trembling. See FEAR.
ths man is a terrorist:

faced with a choice between poverty and joining the cause, he is recruited into a cell and sent to training school where he isbroken down mentally and physically and rebuilt into a fanatic   a killing machine willing to sacrifice his life to destroy the livelyhoods of others at the whim of a few madmen.
When men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go...
And you've just have some kind of mushroom and your mind is moving low.

Go ask Alice I think she'll know
When logic and proportion have fallenly dead.
And the white knight is talking backwards and the red queen's off with her head
Remember what the dormouse said

Feed your head

Or Kill Me / discordian marriage sermon thing.
« on: March 10, 2005, 07:49:10 pm »
in development here. but ok as follows:

the episkopos: we have been brought together today not just to get drunk and have a good time, but to witness the death of this happy couple by matrimony.

marriage is the sort of thing that one does not enter into lightly. verily, it's the sort of thing one is dragged into kicking and screaming and trying to hold onto door frames and the like.

(to the bride): do you wish to marry this poor sunnuvabitch, to cook him dinner from time to time sleep withhim at least once a week, to tell him who really wears the pants in this family and spends the money?


(the epeiskopos): ouch.

(to the groom): do you wish to marry this poor woman, to slave away at your job then come home to do chores, to give her foot messages, and call things cute, to never come home drunk or late and stuff?

(groom): sure

(episkopos):shittybuzz for you n00b!

marriage is a plague, a blight upon society. in yoru time to gether, you will argue, you will do it, you will put up with each other's bullshit, and you will bitch and nag at eachother. you may have children, which will jsut make thign even more exciting. msot of all you will forever be d00med to n00blarosity, wether by juxtaposition proposition, or by your adolescent offfspring. worse you'll have to change diapers, and not have sex with other people anymore. truly marriage is teh sux0r.

by th epower invwested in my by She who's Five Fingered Hand Moves What Is, and the (province/state) of (province/state name) i pronounce you husband and wife until the raputre and even after that unto the 200and fiftieth millionith generation of cockroach thereafter. may eris have mercy on your souls. sim sim sala bim bam b00m abracadbra!~ gimem a beer

(bride hands the episkopos a beer)

gimme a smoke

(groom hands episkopos a smoke then lights it)

let's get drunk.

(the activity degnerates.)

Or Kill Me / irreality.whatever
« on: March 08, 2005, 09:29:43 am »
i thinki got th elink from ehre, it was in my favourites, so i signed up and scriblled on their forums.

i'm going to steal their women to add to the glory of teh bsoms of our lady of confusion and uber teh hawtness!

Or Kill Me / message from eris 2
« on: March 07, 2005, 08:06:21 pm »
Quote from: eris
i created the loonie to punish the canadians for the sin of celine dione, that their pockets may wear out mor equickly than normal, and know mywrath.

Or Kill Me / message from eris
« on: March 05, 2005, 03:36:01 am »
eris hjas jsut told me the following:

Quote from: eris
margerine is sick.

such as it is, it is divine writ, for verily, so on and so forth, un'er o'er gratem.

Or Kill Me / notice to all ye peasants
« on: February 27, 2005, 11:58:59 pm »
I,His totally awesomeness, Horab wilmachin mikarion danger Fibslager. Emperor oF canada and protector of mexico, do hereby claim for the empire of canada and protectorate of cuba, the formerly soverign nation of Liechtenstein. may all tehir base are belong to us at least until 2050.

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