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Topics - Cuddlefish

Or Kill Me / Boxing Air
July 07, 2017, 11:36:11 PM
To a friend:

I've been having a hard time coming to grips with losing you, Brother. It's hard to describe the feeling of losing a friend, it's even harder when that friend was your greatest rival.

Anyone that knew us knows: if me or J wanted to challenge you, you'd better say your prayers and make peace with whichever sissy-pants God you pray to. And, if we were challenging each other, well, you'd better head for the hills, because the fallout from the impact would hit harder than a fist-to-fist explosion that you only see in Japanese cartoons and off-the-wall kung-fu movies. We're talking some seriously seismic, skyscraper-shattering shit.

But now you're gone. Now I swing my fist, and instead of a brick wall impact, it's just air. There is no one I know that can fill your shoes. There is no challenge greater than attempting to outpace, outdo or outshine you.

What makes me even more furious is that you were dishonorably stolen from us by a cowardly lump of sub-human flesh that isn't even worthy of the act. There wouldn't even be any satisfaction in squashing them like the insect they are...

So here I am... Just boxing air. Come back and fight me you mother fucker. There's not one person on this planet left that's worth the smallest effort.

And for the rest of you, there will be hell to pay. I swear to fucking christ I'll cleave this planet in twain if you ever disrespect THE GREATEST WARRIOR THAT ANY OF YOU SCUMBAGS HAVE EVER MET, SEEN OR HEARD OF!

Now I feel like a Vegeta without a Goku, so you all better stay the fuck out of my way.

Or kill me.
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / ATTN: Roger
July 22, 2016, 06:52:35 PM
So, you blocked me on facebook because I called you out on your howling into the abyss. We ALL get it, you get a major kick out of trashing people with different opinions. Hell, you're at it day after day, like you have something to prove. It's almost as if you're trying to convince yourself of your own bullshit with how compulsive you've been about it.

This has NOTHING to do about politics BTW, it is now more like a situation where the neighbor's dog won't stop barking all day. WE ALL KNOW what you think. You can stop now and move on to something else. We all know. I liked it better when you didn't sound like a broken goddamn record. But whatever, man, enjoy creating your own echo chamber as you block everyone that might think a bit differently. Play right into their hands, support that status quo, I don't give a shit. There aint anything I can do to stop you, but really think: what are you attempting to accomplish?

I'll tell you one thing though, it gave me a reason to come back here and post something.
...In case anyone one is REALLY bored. Me and my bass-player have been doing a weekly podcast every Sunday at 8pm, EST at Past episodes are posted on my YouTube channel:

Currently, we are trying to raise money for a trip to New York to buy a golden donut, in order to become Illuminati confirmed.
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / Music Suggestions
November 02, 2015, 04:48:55 PM
So, I'm looking for some suggestions for music to listen to while I'm writing. I'm looking for stuff without prominent lyrics, and maybe a little ambient as long as it's still actually musical. This is what I usually listen to: C418 and Geinō Yamashirogumi's Akira OST. They are both pretty varied, so try to give a few songs a listen to get a good idea of what they're like. I'm just getting a little tired of the same two artists, but haven't found anything else that is suitable. Any suggestions?
So, even though I've been really busy trying to find a job and a home while trying to still move towards grad school, I've found myself with a lot of down time, so I decided to revisit a novel that I had been conceptualizing for over 20 years.

Basically, it is a post-post-apocalyptic existential sci-fi comedy set in a deterministic universe with a style characterized by its Douglas Adams/Dave Barry-esque tones. I have three novels and one short story planned, but I am currently working on the first, which will have many chapters over the course of five books. I have a solid first draft of the first book done, and I'd like to start getting some feedback.

If anyone has the time or interest, I can email you a copy of what I have.
Due to certain conditions, it is looking highly unlikely that I will be able to attend grad school (at this point, It's looking unlikely that I'll be able to eat or have a roof). However, I've been hearing about certain countries that offer free grad school with courses taught in English.

Among them, based on the little research I've done, Germany seems like the best choice. BUT, I don't know if anything I've been reading is true, and if it is, I don't know how practical of an idea moving out of the country really is.

I know there are a few peeps 'round here that have much more knowledge than I do when it comes to stuff like this. So, what do you think? Free grad school in Germany: good idea/bad idea?
We've released our new album. You can stream it for free over at our band camp.

Also, I have a handful of promo codes for free downloads. If you want a code, PM me. I'll probably serve at least the first five people that ask.

So, I've been crazy busy with school for the past, well, seems like forever. But, I'm done for the time being.

I've been assisting in teaching categorical and symbolic logic for a while now (the average student's score has increased by around 20 points since I've been teaching), and I've reconstructed a traditional logic model called the square of opposition to require fewer rules and to be over-all easier to teach. I mentioned a little something about it a while ago, but it hadn't been finished and I didn't want the word to get out until it was. But, it's finished now. The square hasn't been changed in over a hundred years, so it's a fairly big deal.  My paper is on the URI digital commons site, so I figured I'd drop a link if anyone was interested.

Other than that: Hi!
So, a few years back, Cram organized one helluva meat-up. We all chipped in and rented a house for a few days, and even though it was predominantly swamp yankees, we had guests from way out of state, and even a filthy foreigner. We played games, and drank clamato, and wrote shit. It was pretty cool.

Now, it's tough for me to travel, but I would totally be down to do something like that again; it's been too long, especially for those of us in the Prov/Boston area that don't really have a good excuse as to why we don't hang out regularly/tangent. I don't recall exactly how many people we had throwing down on the cost, but we weren't too many, and the individual cost was manageable, even for a useless student like myself.

All that said, is anyone down for round 2? If anyone is interested, maybe we can start spit-balling dates/places for next summer, eh? No?

I've made a bandcamp for my band. I mainly set it up to get our music heard/circulated in a way that physical CDs just can't do. Some of this stuff hasn't been available in years, and it's all free to listen to on the site. If you're interested in punk/hardcore, check it out.

PS: sorry for not posting in a while, how are you?
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / ...twitch
July 13, 2014, 04:45:06 AM
I've decided to stream on Mebbe really boring to you, mebbe no. Either way, here:
Dog's getting put down tomorrow. How to stop feeling?
Any one ever hear of miswak?

I haven't seen any studies or reports that have any particularly negative results, and I just got some in the mail today, and I'm really enjoying it. It'll be great for on the go, and it can take your mind off of cigarettes if you're a smoker. Plus, it tastes interesting and feels cool. 
During my short time T.A.-ing for my logic prof., I have reformatted the square of opposition (a diagram designed to point out the immediate inferences of any logical statement, created by Aristotle and not updated since the 19th century) to require the memorization of fewer rules and to be more intuitive to new students of logic. In one day I have been able to take four students who absolutely BOMBED the quiz, and, through the use of my modified square of opposition (which I'm now calling 'The Dimo Calculator'), I was able to teach each student how to make immediate inferences without confusion, with a 100% success rate. This was achieved in no more than a half-hour per student (compare this to the many hours spent by the prof. with little to no results). I cannot stop thinking about it.
Noticed some weird things after releasing the BIP. First, and least of all, the PDF on my scribd page was my 23rd upload. Completely unintentional.

However, something really weird happened, and it kind of gave me the chills when I noticed it. I had cut out some segments of the interior pages in hexagon shapes and pasted them to the cover. One segment was from Nigel's epilogue. Now, the epilogue is arguably the piece with the most positive takeaway, but, as I was examining the cover, I realized that the particular cut-out segment included in the hexagon portrayed a very different view. The only text visible in the cut out section is: 'advice: Don't listen. Go back to the past; There's nothing waiting for you.'

This was completely unintentional, and really creeped me out when I first saw it. But, I guess it goes to show you how something can look very different from actuality when only focused on a very small segment.

Anyhow, figured I'd share.
BIP 2013 is available for purchase at!

The free PDF will be posted a little later this weekend. The file I currently have is borked, and I'm just waiting on having it re-sent, then it will be posted on Scribd, and a link will be provided.

HOWEVER: Stupid-ass lulu won't allow me to not make a profit. That is, I cannot make any less than $1.36(ish) per copy. We need to figure out what happens with this money. I think it would be agreeable to all involved to just donate all profits to this forum, however, in order to do so, I would need to be in touch with whomever pays the bills so that we can figure out how we will get the money from one place to the other. This person is Faust, no?
Okay, first test copy came in today, and it looks awesome, so here's the deal moving forward.

There are three minor errors that need to be fixed. 'Realistically,' this should only take a couple days, but realistically, let's give it a couple weeks worth of margin space to be safe.

Once these issues are fixed, it will be available on at cost. No profit. There's just no way to handle it fairly. A single copy should cost you around 7 and change plus shipping.

Further, a free PDF copy will by hosted on my Scribd account (link will be provided once it is posted) and a PDF copy will also be sent to whomever is responsible for adding tabs on the homepage, in case we want to link to it from there.

PDF drafts of the BIP2013 are now available on request.

The current draft is intended SOLELY for final review purposes prior to the official release.

What this means: Request a copy ONLY if you have the time and ability to read all text and review other aesthetic elements of the entire book.

What I am looking for are any MAJOR PROBLEMS (I am not concerned about minor things at this point, as any correction deemed necessary will result in me having to rescan the entire thing all over, which I don't want to have to do for some piddly-shit issues).

If you HAVE THE TIME and possess THE ABILITY to review the current draft, you may PM me with your e-mail address, and I will send you a copy within a day or two.

The incorrect numbers are all correct. What do you intend on doing about this?
Originally, I was going to format the BIP 2013 digitally with a friend of mine. However, I have much more experience doing shit DIY by hand. So, I grabbed an old friend of mine who co-created a few zines with me, and we started tearing it up. I see this as a 'return to form' for Discordian literature, as well as a reaffirmation of my punk heritage. Now eat my shit, assholes.

But, seriously: We have a few more pages done than there are pics of, just wanted to give you some high-lights.

Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? This takes a long time to do, and is fairly resource heavy, so if anyone has a problem with it being done this way, say something now. I don't want to invest all the effort if people don't like the direction it's going.
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / One-Liners
March 26, 2013, 10:50:30 PM
Give me your best discordian or non-discordian one-liners. The good ones will make it into the BIP2013 in the form of margin notes, crazy footnotes or some other form of general filler for the large empty white spaces. They don't necessarily have to be related to the BIP directly, but maybe keep it in mind, yeh?

And also, hi. How are you guys.

Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / HELP!
February 25, 2013, 04:40:22 PM
No time to explain! I need a copy of the Vagina Monologues STAT for my gender and women's studies class! DOES ANYONE KNOW A GOOD LINK TO A PDF OR ANY SUCH SHIT LIEK THAT??!! I NEED IT BY YESTERDAY!!!!

the cudd
Despite the fact that I will need to do a lot of writing over the next few years, I have been writing little to none, as it currently stands (and, as it comes to mind, I've been speaking less as well, but that's easy when you're by yourself).

I've learned to despise the word. It twists your thoughts to match its valence. Each one of them a little lie. An explanation? More like a string of misrepresentations. I've never miss the mark as much as I do during the time I type, or speak. Reality is quicksilver to the paper, pen or tongue. The tendrils of dendrites and grey matter and glia don't even bother to get it right, let alone the phonetic or visual representation of the impression of all that is not an object or event (we never see what is kept by an object, only what a thing reflects (rejects?)).

Which thing? Which dastardly, vicious area of human consciousness can be held responsible for the word, and the way it bends your will to its? The way it seeks to represent what it never can be or obtain? Papa Socrates was a mad man, but he was right, it seems to be, to me, at this time. You writers, painters, sculptors, map-makers, weavers of little lies! We sow the seed of human discontent, as we make grasps at truths, and The Truth, and truth-like constructs. We do this by, what boils down to, and will always be reducible to, nothing but mere metaphor. This artificial map-making, this relentless series of simulations, is our only interface. No mods currently available. This is the best we get. We do the best We can.

First: long time no post. How are you all? I've been lurking, as I've been very busy with school, and in my down time I can hardly muster an intelligent thought, let alone make an intelligible or meaningful post.

However, I've been seeking advice on an issue that I've been experiencing, and I feel like no one I talk to about it is being a 'straight shooter' with me. And all this time, I have forgotten the perfect place for blunt but honest advice: the wonderful land of the interbutts!

So, here's my 'problem' (I put that in quotes, because I'm not sure if it's self created, or even if anyone would consider it a problem).

I attended my first semester at a 'real' university last semester. As a transfer student from a community college and an 'older' person (on average, I'm about ten years older than the other students) I had a desire to be taken seriously and prove that I could achieve, despite the stereotypes associated with community college. Furthermore, my own expectations were high; I performed well at CCRI, and I felt the need prove to (myself?) that I was capable of achieving more. I struggled with severe self-doubt throughout the semester, and continually felt as if I had already failed.

Well, the grades started rolling in. An A. Another A, followed by another.

Five in total.

A 4.0.

A perfect score

I've never felt worse about an achievement. Especially one that I set for myself and worked hard to get.

For some reason, this 4.0, which is supposed to be an imaginary, idealized grade which no one ever really gets, is making me feel really stupid. I'm almost embarrassed by it, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out why.

So, PD, why am I such a stupid asshole? I'd really like to know.

P.S. I know it is in bad form to make a post of such a personal nature after such a long period of non-contribution, but, as I often find, you guys are the only people I can turn to.

P.P.S Tomahawks.
Aneristic Illusions / Is this worth talking about?
December 14, 2012, 05:08:02 PM
So, I have one last paper due for the semester, and it's for my philosophy of science class. The prompt is a two-parter, the first part being that I must compare a non or pseudo science with it's scientific counterpart and tell why one is science and the other is not (f'rinstance, psych/para-psych, astronomy/astrology, etc.). This is the easy bit, it's the second part I want to ask you guys about.

Directly from the prompt:

QuoteCan a case be made for scientific knowledge being gendered? To answer this question, you will need to describe the differences asserted to exist between male centered science and female centered science, to talk about your reasons for accepting or rejecting this dichotomy in our scientific and knowledge gathering enterprise, and to work through your decision's impact on the goals and direction of science. Alternatively, if you don't want to work with gender, is science fundamentally biased due to limits set by the people dominating it? (put another way, is science ruled by gendered, racial, ethnic, social, or political factors that separate the powered from the powerless?) given your chosen dominant/dominated dichotomy, use the texts that we have studied to make your case.

Now, I have enough 'ammo' from our class readings and discussions to answer this question properly, but I wanted to get some insight from people closer to these issues.

Any insight would be helpful, as it is easily imagined that, in my current condition of "regular strait white dude," I may have overlooked something important. Thanks, duders.
A friend of a friend of mine received this letter 11/2 this year. This person apparently heard a police report on the 24th about a stabbing. Apparently, Isaac Tripp lives just down the street from her. Note the reference to a recently patented time-machine (GE C204). And what the fuck does the MA dept. of corrections have to do with CERN? What the hell...

Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / Dammit, Roger...
October 30, 2012, 02:10:02 PM
...When you said we'd have to make sacrifices I thought you meant not getting that extra side at dinner or skipping movie night every once in a while... Y'know, all those things they tell you will get you through the recession.

I now know that isn't exactly what you meant... Sure, I made it out of the storm with no issue, but the damn tropical cyclone did enough damage before I figured out that you meant actual sacrifices. Good thing that's been taken care of now.

And just so you know, MC hamster went willingly. He knew the deal.
Soooo... Yeah, two(?) summers ago, we had a meat-up, during which I required everyone to write a piece for a meat-up edition of Intermittens. Well, not only I am a douche for enforcing creative participation, but to top it off, I got lazy, and didn't do anything with the submissions, then misplaced them, lost to the winds of time yada yada yada.

Well, I found them. And, sure, this is hardly a proper Intermittens, but it's here in it's raw form ready for handling by the greasy, probing fingers of the public.

Enjoy. Or don't. Whichever you prefer.

Quote from: RichterMy morning shirt

It was still before noon when bourbon was proposed.
This was not planned. Eve stepping out in a fine dress started it, and so EoC and I responded with collared shirtery. The additional layers of cotton twill proved too much for the humid environs, for a good, chilly New England spring had been replaced. The capracious weather leaving us feeling like the jolly green giants was squatting his humid taint over the land, sweltering us in his tropical choad. Like proper distinguished members of a southern society, we were doing nothing. Good food, lacadasical atttidue, and intellectual posturing amidst vulgarity and blasphemy were the main atractions thusfar.

Then mint jullips were suggested. We hadn't planned for bourbon, and the connecticut blue laws were going to make acquisition of this Sunday treat problematic. Border runs were proposed.

Casino buses passed. Their cabins full of geriatric gambing addicts. Customers due for a hotshot from the local dealers. The air conditioned cabins of these land crawlers were pipped with extra oxygen, sobbering and livening the moods of the passengers, long drunk of free drinks at the quarter slots. Released from the confines, they would fancy themselves sober, and be well into another state before the booze wouldcreep back in and the accidents begin. Another condition to thin the herd of it'sextraneous members. A sublte, malicous end to pissing away one's dotage and social security at a lass vegas hair folicle transplant.

Soon, soon, activity woud stir, and we'd get supplies to continue our northern southern gothic farce. A post regency play of taking ourselves too seriouly.

EoC mentioned how one may perform the spectacle of the "Bee Beard". Letting bees swarm to a caged queen across an expanse of bare flesh. I proposed a bee loincloth, but expressed horror at the critical failure. EoC and Eve agreed it would be something, and may be a hell of a fetish for the vibration.
I assured them you'd definitely get a buzz off of it, and was ordered off the porch.

Quote from: It was following a lack of sleep and a long morning of bacon and driving that Blight and myself walked purposefully into a Connecticut liquor store. Our pace was made by no ordinary determination to buy beer but actually a particular difficulty in moving through humidity so thick it tasted like ice cream flavored with the sins of the nearby casinos. We did this shit for the gleeful demons who demanded malted beverage to slake a thirst primal, perverse, and acute. There was no direction to the type of beer so much as there was a repetitive qualifier: lots.

Blight and I made our way across an adequate selection discussing the intricacies of purchasing a drinkable choice without dropping enough cash to red flag ourselves as deeply pocketed criminals on every agency watch list in the state. The cooler stacked up cases of vile waste and overpriced swill alike but for a small spot on the top shelf catching our eyes as we exited carrying our weight in cardboard, glass, and booze. There were words that I could not comprehend, like a nightmare that feels real but defies description. Budweiser was one. A hated word. And something else.

The grocery team was across the parking lot so we rendezvoused in the blank bland aisles with Richter, Leln, and Torte. I stood there and I thought. They tossed quantities of food in a cart never meant to be so burdened. There was something wrong there that I could not shake. Blight was gone as well, his mind left behind in that cooler. We walked back.

Clamato. That was it. Budweiser and Clamato. With salt and lime. It was one of those comforting moments where we realize no, we are not mad, it is the world that is mad and this thought was mixed with the singular purpose of needing to buy this four pack of pure fucking absurdity. Oh, and another 30 rack because fuck it. The cashier saw us again and asked if we forgot something and I said "Yes, this." He confusedly scanned the can to find that they only rang up one at a time. Nobody ever bought an entire four pack of this. They weren't even prepared for such an eventuality.

Subjecting ourselves to a mixture of piss beer, tomato juice and clam juice was one of those things that was done with such gusto that before I knew it Cram and Richter were outside shaking their cans with vigor and unconcern. The tab clicked the concoction open and we sipped and we did not speak and we passed the can to the next and, unsurprisingly, it came rather quickly back.

It was at this time that another Discordian guest arrived. He was handed the can and drank deeply and he turned and sprayed that amount in a fine mist. Many described it as terrible. This is not untrue, it is terrible. It exists to be terrible. Being terrible is the only fucking thing this could ever be and as such it succeeded so gloriously that it might be one of the most impressive beers I've had the distinct honor of guzzling with a very intense self loathing.

I believe Cram said that he didn't dislike it at first, but with each successive sip he hated it more distinctly. It would explain why all but one can was abandoned entirely. My can. Because it had to be done. And Cram was wrong, here. With each successive sip I did not hate it more distinctly. Rather, with each successive sip I hated myself more distinctly. It is common to know regret following a long bit of excess revelry. It is not common to know it immediately and fully, and continue with that same act by your own free will. And for that, Budweiser & Clamato is a drinking experience like none other.

Quote from: It's Not Attention Whoring, It's My Job

   I came to this fucking Discordian meatup weekend, and they made me write for them. What the fuck, right? (This is a segue.) Not 30 minutes ago I caused a bit of an epic car accident. Rather, I should say, my WMDs did. So, I'm really not supposed to talk about this with just anyone. Technically you're supposed to have clearance and some sort of plastic badge or American-whittled sticks, but shit, if I have to write about something then I'm telling the full truth of it. Exactly how it happened.
   Anyway, my WMDs. I know what you're thinking and I hate to have to tell you this, but it's actually far worse. These are Weapons of Mass Distraction. It's a well-known fact that they cause significantly more destruction than the other WMDs, but the name was already taken, and that's really neither here nor there (read: there's a lot of red tape). The point is, I have these really awesome things and I choose to use them as recklessly and irresponsibly as possible (without letting my mom find out. You know.).
   Frankly--I'm just going to say it--I don't think the accident was my fault. I was just leaning against the porch railing, letting my WMDs push together and hang out of my low cut dress. I leaned further forward, tossing my hair back and out of the way of my glistening face and chest. The WMDs heaved together like... two things that heave together, and as one of my dress straps slipped slowly off my shoulder, I dripped water down the front of my body to cool off a little. Definitely not to draw more attention or anything. I have an obligation to make the most of these babies while I have them, you understand. (Should they ever lose their luster, I am prepared to invest in some big shiny fake ones. Just so you know. I am totally prepared for that shit.) I was just being friendly, sharing them with the passing public. If they happened to lead to a minivan loaded with children swerving into an oncoming double-decker buss full of casino-to-casino-goers, well, I'm pretty sure Dimo or the drivers were to blame. At least the investigating police are too Distracted to put it all together. Just in case, it's probably time for my WMDs and me to move on.
   Shit, they didn't even get to see my nipple rings.

Quote from: There's No Place Like Home

Such a simple word. It's a solid sounding word, a word that means "safe," that means "belonging," that means "wanted." It's a word everybody knows, but it means something different to everybody.

They're all wrong.

"Home" is just an illusion. Places aren't home, places don't care. Life turns, and a place you thought was home suddenly isn't any more. People change, or reveal themselves to have always been something you never thought they could be, and they're gone... or you wish they would be gone. Parents die, siblings drift away, friends can't be what you need them to be al the time, lovers betray...

There's no place like "home."

All we have is what's inside our own skulls, and most of us have no idea what that is most of the time. We define ourselves by what we do, where we live, who we love, but we don't know who we ARE. We live our lives pretending we know, or trying to make ourselves be something we're not in order to fit someone else's mold. We carve away parts that don't fit, or try to glue on new pieces, and we drive ourselves out of the only "home" we do have, ourselves.

Take some time to explore the place. You'll find places you never knew were there.

Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / A Letter
October 03, 2012, 03:48:36 AM
Dear PD,

My brain has gone malignant, and has turned on me.
In fits of unregimented and wild growth, it has destroyed itself.
In its mindless amoebae-like spasms, it has devoured my heart, my non-physical self, my sense of communion, and continues to do the same to itself.
I have nothing left, save my most basic primitive emotions, but even here, no longer do I have a vessel in which to collect and carry them. Rage, loathing, confusion, and fear, unfocused, destructive.
I find brief moments of peace, but they are now found more in somber reflection of my own fallibility, and are fleeting, thus bitter-sweet at best. Repulsed (at times, as I may be) by my own ignorance, my inner speech resembles a freakish fun-house mirror image of the most scathing critiques of any outlandish no0bs caught in mid backpedal or informal fallacy.

I have been paralyzed by what I sought to be free.

I am no human being.

This is nothing but an admission of failed bi-pedalism. Any perceived melodrama or sentiment is likely just a product of my chosen language, and can be disregarded.

Thank you for your time and understanding.
Or Kill Me / The Price of Gas
October 03, 2012, 12:34:39 AM
A grand display of human hubris was at the heart of the decision, perhaps mixed with a subtle naivety along side an American-sized serving of what would've otherwise been known as "healthy curiosity." I've been told of the dangers. Well, they've been alluded to, anyway. After all, now that I've seen it for myself, I can see why no one had described it without the heavy use of metaphor, as it's very existence (or, appearance of existence) defies the very concept of definition.

All these burnt out research labs are starting to look the same to me... Didn't I just pass that?

It aught to have an end, and I aught to be able to get there. A stupid thought from a blindly ambitious but well meaning person (?). But, am I at fault? How could I have known it's true (???) nature without a direct experience? An now that it's been seen... Well, y'know. And, man... It just goes. And it gets weird.

I could have sworn I passed that old collapsed church already...

I tried turning back but, well, there aren't any exit ramps. Not even an "official use only" turn-around. I'm sure the authorities would have understood if I had used it. Had it been there. I did pull over once, though. I thought that, maybe, if I could get some sleep, I could escape this place, even if only temporarily, but the thing... It exists in your dreams, too. And it can be even worse there, what with the utter lack of a physical reality to conform to. You don't want to sit put for too long, anyway. The still live remains of former travelers are ravenous for... company.

Wait... That burnt out old lab looks just like that collapsed church I just passed...

No. It's too late. I've made the choice, and now any attempts to find myself, my location, just get me more and more lost. Deeper down... Fuck, how deep is this?! I try the old scenic route every once in a while. It always strikes me as a bad idea, on account of the barriers blocking the connector roads. I mean, if the people that populate this place are building walls, well, what does that say about what they're trying to keep out? But, the scenic route... This aint the colorful jaunt through early autumn Birkshire foliage... Ever seen a Dali painting? Well, in comparison to the fringe locals, Dali'll give you the warm fuzzies... at least he shows something with a vague semblance of the familiar. The familiar. I don't think I'm familiar with that term... Fuck, these pot-holes are the size of craters...

Ok, there's no way that's the same lab... erm, church. Eh, shit. Had I imagined it the first time? No... I'm certain I've seen that school building. I'm certain...

There's other people here. I'm pretty sure of it. Somewhere. But I can't see them. Not clearly, at least. Hold on. Did that guy try to say something to me? These words... They don't make any sense... That guy... Am I imagining? Fuel is a commodity here. Well, it's at least safe to assume it is, the gas gauge is spinning like a compass on a boat stuck in the Bermuda triangle... Man, I could really go for a vacation in Bermuda... Even that triangle looks damn good and ordinary right about now.

Look! An information booth... Oh, never mind... Doesn't look like any one has been working there in a while... And just look at that line.

Fuck it. Let's run this tank dry. If I don't have the fuel left, I can simply be counted out as a victim of circumstance, right?


Damn, that's definitely the same church as where I got on. Fuck, I'm gonna run out of gas for sure...
I haven't been around much, and I feel the need to apologize.

Sure, my absence could be explained by a few things. My older brother just got married, which was quite a to-do. Also, I could tell you it was because I've been preparing myself to go to a REAL university in the fall, filing papers, signing up for classes, doing the financial aid thing...

But, as true as all the above is, the real reason I haven't been around is because I've discovered...


I've literally logged four and a half days of play time since my birthday (July 31st).

I'm not proud.

The conversation was about low income people that choose to buy liquor over food.

I mean, am I right? If so, am I accomplishing anything by responding to this tripe, or should I just mind my own business? Shit like this has a tendency to get me all worked up.
Quotei saw it in a documentary on TV. any body with more information, am seriously in need of it. ... details.

QuoteI saw it in a documentary on the history channel, but I can't remember the whole thing.

QuoteThe Moon is moving further away from Earth. The Moon controls the ... I saw it in a documentary

QuoteI saw it in a documentary and the news on Aljazeera. Just goes to show how evil white people are

Quote... device which focuses the suns light into a single point and basically burns the crap out of whatever you put in it's way. I think I saw it in a documentary.

QuoteIt bothers me.. I saw it in a documentary

QuoteYes it is true. I saw it in a documentary on the freemasons. ... true, I saw it in a documentary

Quoteome birds intentionally place their crap with amazing accuracy. I saw it in a documentary so it's also possible

Quotestudies show that both men and women r more horny in the morning i saw it in a documentary anyway

Quotei saw it in a documentary years ago and it's haunted me

QuoteI saw it in a documentary once And Oprah's magazine "O" had a science column. For like, 6 months

Quoteshut down mars's magnetic field, and killed all life on the planet. I saw it in a documentary.

QuoteThat's definitely a woman to the left of Jesus (as we look). I saw it in a documentary.

Quotewhoa what? I saw it in a documentary! But I believe is true! I dreamt it b4 as well!

QuoteI think I saw it in a documentary, or maybe Looney Toons

Quotejust like I expected and just like I saw it in a documentary
The winner's suggestion will have a chance at becoming a band's name.


Or Kill Me / Just. Shut. Up.
June 30, 2012, 04:57:05 PM
Free Ride.

I'm getting really sick of people bitching about this supposed "free ride" that people on welfare or any public assistance get. As if one would choose to be impoverished or disabled, or to be born in suboptimal geographical location, or be the victim of financial institutions or natural disasters or addiction or stupid people in general. Free ride. Fuck, you think it's a free ride? I don't see you quitting your job and jumping in the unemployment benefits line. I don't see you giving up your car or your physical health in order to cash in your ticket to a free fucking ride. And that's exactly what you ought to be doing if, in fact, you truly believe it to be a "free ride." Have fun in section 8, you waste of life.


I swear, if I hear another entitled twenty-something-year-old white person in a middle-low to low tax bracket bitch about taxes while simultaneously disputing the need to proportionately tax the highest earners I'm gonna choke a bitch. I am serious. Shut. Up.


Oh. My. Fucking. GOD. I HATE THESE PEOPLE! I never encountered a group of people so unwilling or unable to follow their own contrived ideology to it's logical conclusions since the Christians. They even do that other thing Christians do: use their broken "morality" to justify doing terrible things to other people.


Honestly, you hate him because he's black. Please just admit this so I can stop hearing about his birth certificate or Kenya, or some other contrived bullshit. If you actually hated Obama for political or intellectual reasons, there's better shit to call him on, like drone strikes, f'rinstance. But nobody talks about that...

TTFN: Ta-Ta For Now.
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / Book Report
June 21, 2012, 07:30:07 PM
Your first assignment is a book report.

Your book report will be on this movie.

There is a 200 word minimum. If you fail to reach the minimum word count, you will receive an "F" for "Fuck You." You may exceed this limit, but if you run too long, you increase your chance of getting a sub-standard mark of "SHUT UP." 

This assignment is due as of now.
I'm dead serious, you fucking shit-ass fuck-tards.

I'm tired of your man-pussy bullshit and I'm about ready to frack your fucking skulls for some sweet, sweet brain juice. YOU THINK BATH-SALTS ARE BAD?! I WILL EAT YOUR FUCKING FACE UNDER MY OWN VOLITION! I don't need drugs to have a good time.

Now, fisticuffs, or GTFO.
A few things have happened recently that make me want to get some feedback.

I was having a discussion with a friend of mine about dating, meeting people, etc. I was complaining that I feel like I will likely die alone, as the standards I set for potential mates are absurdly high. During this conversation, I also realized that I may not get laid any time soon, because a recent "upgrade" in my standards, for even a simple one night stand, are almost unable to be met by 90% of the populace (figures are approximate and entirely made up).

Secondly, I just graduated from a two year community college, with plans on continuing my education. I expected to feel good about it (probably because that's what I was lead to believe). However, despite high-honors, deans list every semester, and the respect of many of my instructors, I actually feel a little embarrassed about the whole thing. I feel that I did not match the standards I had set for myself. It's almost like anything under highest honors (which was a mere .09 GPA points away) might as well have been an out-right failure. 

Nothing is good enough.

When prompted (by myself, or others) to lower my standards, I refuse to even consider it. However, I would like to NOT die alone, and I would like to feel a sense of accomplishment from my achievements. Is this MY problem? Is the lowering of standards the answer here? If so, how does one go about doing that once expectations have already been set?
People are pissed, and rightly so. The thing is, there's some of us that are pissed because of the great injustices perpetrated against the people, while others are just spoiled brats who can't get their way. The problem is, it's tough to tell the difference, because the whiny brats that can't get their way act as if they've been done a horrible injustice.
Or Kill Me / A Miner Inconvenience
May 05, 2012, 04:25:16 PM
Two miners were searching for rare gems. Once they found a cave to their liking, the first miner went down into it to set up. The second miner went to gather tools and equipment. They were to meet back at the mouth of the cave in twenty-three minutes, which they did.

"How was it setting up?" said the second miner.

"Well," said the first, "When I first set up, I had the lantern to my back. It was hard to see what I was doing, because I cast my shadow on everything. That wouldn't do, so, I put it right in front of me."

"I see. Did that work out any better?"

"No, if you would believe it. When it was right in front of me, the glare was in my eyes, and I couldn't work without being blinded!"

"Ah..." said the second miner. "So, what did you do?"

"Well, I hung the lantern overhead. That way I could see mostly everything."

"I see. That makes sense." said the second miner. "When it was behind you, I call that 'denying it.' With your back to the lantern, all you see is your own shadow, which is only a distorted image of yourself. When it was in front of you, I call that 'chasing it' or 'grasping at it.' Staring at the lantern directly will cause you to go blind, for some people, this is permanent! I'll call you lucky that you still have your sight! But, hanging it overhead, I call that 'Being aware of it, but not looking at it' which can translate to 'Ignoring it.'"

"I know, now." said the first. "I was able to figure it out by asking myself 'When you dig for rare gems, do you look at the head of your pick, or the place you are trying to strike? When you shoot your bow, do you keep your eyes locked on the arrow, or your target?' and it all made sense from there."

"Good." said the second miner. "Let's have lunch."
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / Help
April 28, 2012, 05:24:44 PM
I need a link to a copy of Nietzsche's "Madman" in German. Searching the web is giving me a ton of bullshit and I don't trust Google translator enough to give me an accurate translation. I need this for my German culture project, so I would like to be able to have an accurate copy, not some hackneyed Google translation.
i: I dunno which sub-forum to put this in. Move to appropriate area if needed.

ii: Not sure what to call this. A thought experiment, maybe. But, if anyone has read anything similar by anyone a bit more... coherent than I am, let me know.

iii: No, that's "Clock," with an "L." Not "Cock," you pervert.

I: So, every time you are engaged in an act which you do not wish to "get caught" doing, a clock is activated. The clock starts the moment you are engaged in this action, and counts down towards the "inevitable" moment in which you "get caught" doing whatever it is you're doing, or, you cease your engagement in said act.

The thing is, you can't see the clock, so you don't even know the starting time, let alone how much time is left. The only thing for certain is the longer you're engaged in the act, the more your chances of "getting caught" increase.

However, this is where I get sort of stuck, there is a way to approximate the amount of time on the clock. For instance, if you're smoking a doob in your own house, which you have lived in for years, with decent neighbors, you may have a clock that runs, I dunno, fifty years till you "get caught." But, if you're tugging one out on the corner of a busy intersection during rush-hour, you're probably looking at something in the "seconds" to "minutes" range. Of course, you have to make adjustments as you go: you're putting up your masterwork graffiti tag, and suddenly you see headlights pointing right at you, well, you're clock just dropped a significant amount. If it turns out to just be regular folk and they drive off, you gain a portion back, but the fact that you've been seen, and the fact that regular folk sometimes call the police, it's a net loss. Also, whatever you're doing may effect the time limit. If it is something "seemingly harmless" to an observer, they're less likely to desire that you "get caught," therefore not greatly effecting your total time limit. However, these are just conceptual examples, and mere guesses. I am unable to "do the math."

I feel there's got to be a way to assign values to different types of situations, and create a formula to run those values through to find how much time, roughly, you have on your "invisible clock," in any given situation. I can generally distinguish between a situation that has a long clock (with an "L," people) and a situation with a short one, but by how much is the question...

Oooor, does this just seem like paranoid delusion?
Is what I did during a school "field-trip" to the RISD art museum the other day.

I touched an ancient Chinese dragon, Vishnu (somewhat appropriately), various Taoist statuettes, and the giant wooden Buddha, among other things.

I think I have a fetish for very old objects.

I mean, they just left them out in the open. No ropes or glass cases. It's like they were asking me too. Is that bad?

If you think it is, what's coming next is going to be worse.

I'm going to go back there (only three bucks with my student ID! Woot!)...

And lick the ancient Chinese dragon.

Or Kill Me / Being Invincible
March 27, 2012, 06:36:57 PM

Every morning I wake up to a vulture, clawing at the fleshless parts of my being, picking at me for scraps of food for shadows.

I will not give up, I am invincible.

Every morning, it comes with claws and jagged beak, sneaking in through the windows along with rays and razor blades of sunlight, a silhouette of it's lurking form splayed across my flinching face.

I will stand, these chains be damned.

In he swoops, oil black feathers, plumes of plight, devoid of hope, carrying dissatisfaction like some over-grown avian flu. He tears. Void eyes pierce from a pink head, bald, unashamed of it's terrible, wrinkled face. He stares.

I stay on my feet. I cannot be beat.

Persistent fiend. He aught to be, I taught him myself. Wings of perfect jet, he sets upon his prey, it's me in both places. There's no chase, no contest, no struggle, no sport. I'm chained to a black rock, it's him, but maybe I am his rock to be chained to. Tangled feathers, fingers, arms, wings, beak and hair. He strikes, because that's his best instinct, it always has been. Each slowly sinking claw burns brands upon my memory. Everywhere I go I carry with me my own enemy.

I will fight, wrong or right, to make it to another night.

Eyes sagging, gaping. My lids, heavy slitted bags, I watch, I wait, for his arrival. My rival. My enemy. My old, old, friend. The sword with two ends. I anticipate the lacerations, and brace myself, quietly biding the time till he comes, brandishing his beak-axe and claw-daggers, staggering, like some hideously intoxicated tyrannosaurus, or ancient dragon.

I spit and cuss. I stand my ground because I must.

A sudden wilting crushing. I clutch at wounds, pulsing, gushing. Flush, I fumble. Writhe. Wraith. Wight. Shade. Shadow. Nothing. Empty. Pouring endless falls of sorrow glide, roaring through my crippled mind. Echoes bent and broken. Endless calls of sorrow guide, the roaring of the rippled tide. Tripping, tipping, tumbling, I mumble to myself, or you, or someone else, it's numbing.

As long as I have moving blood, I will not budge for stone, or rain or mud.

Heracles, it seems, is on a semi-permanent leave. He's distracted by some actors; Nothing but shadow puppets on the walls, as a matter of fact. He doesn't see the vultures eating at their own masters, the distractions coming constantly faster. Multitasking is the the new virtue, or vice; they're alike. Thirty second interactions. Form factions. Echo chambers built and bellowed in. Fat little piggies, millions wiggling to the oh-so-tempting teat to suckle the newest flavor of empty, zero, nothing. The new color, or anti-color, or brand, make or model, or anti brand, make or model of good old fashioned American made nothing nothing nothing, worse than fucking nothing. Heracles will not come, as he "likes" the chains that bind him, and we're cursed to blackened, vile vultures making shreds of former persons, morbid psychological confetti spread on the streets of endless confusion, decay, entropy and nothing nothing, nothing.

And if all the days remain the same, I will stand. Invincible. Lame.
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / De-Occupy
March 10, 2012, 08:21:54 PM
Guys, help me flesh this out.

Never mind the Occupy movement. It's time to put our money where our mouths are. So many people are bitching about "the 1%" but then turn around and go shopping at wall-mart, or allow themselves to continue to get ripped off by the likes of BoA, and the such.

You want to take action? You want to make a change? Well, you need to start with yourself. Unlike all corporate sponsors on facebook, for one, and let your friends know that, if they don't do the same, you will un-friend them. Stop spending your money irresponsibly, and encourage others to do the same. Make some sacrifices, and let your friends know that you are not suffering one bit by no longer shopping at places like wal-mart. Educate yourself about which corporations are connected to each other, and if one is connected to something you may happen to like, give it up, and send them an E-mail explaining why.

What we need is meaningful action. A perceived mob scene is easily turned against you. Your freedoms of speech and assembly become the missiles they create. Individual actions are the only way. Do your part, and not only practice what you preach, but preach what you have practiced. Let your friends know that you will not be associated with an intellectually lethargic society. Let them know that there are credit unions and small businesses that offer better products and services than the Totalitarian retailers and banks. STAND BY YOUR CONVICTIONS, and FOLLOW THROUGH, and sometimes, you have to walk away from people you care about, so they can see for themselves what the problem is. Harass your reps and congress-people. They only do what gets them votes, so withhold your votes until they change their tunes.

To the extreme, leave the district. If all else fails, leave the country. There is no need to play a game where the rules are so clearly stacked in favor of the ones who are already "winning." If you were playing a game with me called "Cuddlefish Wins Every Time" you would take your toys and go home, no? You can't win, but if you don't play, you can't loose either. Time to treat these Tyrants the same way. De-Occupy, and let them know that you're no longer playing.

De-Occupy America.
I have to apologize for my absence during the past few weeks. Sure, school is in full swing with midterms and all, but that's not why I haven't been here. And, of course, there's the everyday drama and bullshit that comes with dealing with domesticated primates, but that's not it either.

You see, the real reason I haven't been here is (I'm so ashamed)... I accidentally started writing a novel. I am so sorry. It started with an assignment for my Fantasy Lit class: A 6-12 page, double spaced, short story. I got an early start on it, fearing I would not become properly inspired by the end of the semester. Once I hit 15 pages single spaced, and the story wasn't even a quarter told, I knew there was a problem. But I decided to let the story be what it wanted to be, and now I am over thirty pages in (in "standard" novel format, that's about 60-65 pages) and only about a third of the way through. I intend on finishing it, for good or for ill.

In short, it's a creative exploration of psychology, dreams, the subconscious, Jungian archetypes, and a fresh, modernized view of the concept of the "collective consciousness." It is a stylistic look at the past-centric "lizard-brain" vs. the Nietzschean Overman, or "future self," set in a fantastical dream-world. Is it any good? I haven't the foggiest (my mom thinks I'm cool).

Another day or two and I'll be at a good point to try to get some feed back, if anyone feels like punishing them self (beats flagellation.) let me know, and maybe I'll let you check out a copy, but only if you are capable and interested in giving meaningful feedback.

Otherwise, I'll see you when I get back from Terra-Somnia. And, again, my apologies, both for not being here, and for being pretentious enough to attempt to write a novel.
Cuddlefish has an AMAZING COOK BOOK! It can make all sorts of weird-ass shit out of random ingredients! Here's the problem: all the pages have faded, and it's up to you guys to try and re-fill them with crazy recipes!

Here's how you do it:
1) Post a list of items, it can be long or short.
2) I'll tell you if your list of items is a recipe from the AMAZING COOK BOOK.
3) If it IS: you'll be awarded points. You'll get 1 point from recipes that make green things. You'll get 3 points for blue things, and you'll get 5 points for red things.
4) If it IS NOT: You will lose 1 point (you CAN have negative points!).
5) Once the book is filled (23 recipes) points will be tallied, and a new MASTER CHEF will be declared!
5a) You can only make one guess per post (highlight or bold your list so I can separate it from the rest of your post). And you cannot make another guess until at least two other people (not counting my posts) have made guesses. (posting out of turn will cost you 3 points.)

Here's some recipes that I can still make out:

Chaos + Frankfurters + No bun  + Orbital Mind Lazors + Who's Driving Car +
Demented Pterodactyls
= Green Fnord

Pills + Chi + Eggs + The Cool Kids = Blue Pie

Cotton + Flour + Vanilla + Kellog's Cornflakes + Butter Knife = Red Cake


Cainad: -5
Queen Gojira: -3
Coyote: -1
Perineal Sponge: -2
Freeky: -1
Demo-Squid: -1
TGRR: -1
What's in Dimo's Box Of Mystery?


Just use your imagination! Think of a thing, reach in, and see if what you imagined was something that Dimo put in the Box Of Mystery!


There are rhymes and lyrics, but no syllables spoken.
There are practical jokes, but no funny pranks 
There is a quart of soup, but no spoons or clean bowls.
There is an opened grave, but no hole or body, or even a grave to open.
There are bottle openers, but no beers to drink.

What will be your guess?!?!

Just make sure that your guess is in any colored text, and the rest of the text is in black, so the box knows what you're guessing. You will get more hints every 10 guesses. You can make guesses however often you'd like.


After 50 guesses, the box will self destruct, taking us all out with it! (That's 50 total guesses, not 50 guesses each). Correct guesses don't count against you. If any player makes 5 correct guesses in a row, the group gets 5 more guesses and that player can no longer make guesses. But, for every post I make that contains a hint, that player may post a hint (in the form of an example correct answer) of their own.


(we're playing on the honor system, here. It is assumed that any player that has figured out the criteria for objects found in the Box Of Mystery will not PM, or otherwise privately exchange that information until the end of the game.)