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Topics - BadBeast

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Literate Chaotic / Grandmother Eris
« on: April 24, 2015, 06:39:11 pm »
Eris doesn't need worshippers like that limp rag of a Christos. His  hand-wringing supplicants are a plague upon the World already. She asks for no bent knees, no pious penitents, she offers no absolution, nor bids her faithful to be washed in the sacrificial gore of some scapegoat's stolen life.

She don't roll like Jeehobah, she doesn't need constant validation from a flock of frightened, sinful sheep, mumbling empty prayers under the judging eyes and false shepherding of a Priesthood full of bastards, mountebanks and charlatans. If she bestows upon you, your hearts desire, it is not as some reward for unswerving faith, or dutiful worship.

Nay, it is with the casual indifference of a good natured feaster tossing the remains of the meal to her Hounds. Her gifts are not something that one should strive towards, for she is nothing if not fickle and capricious towards mortals. Would Paris have been so blind in his pursuit of Helen, had he known the terrible price that would be demanded of him?

To incur the displeasure of Hera, and the abandonment of Athena, just so he could play "Hide the sausage" with a Spartan Queen, stolen from under the nose of her Atreides Husband?, Had he known every King of Greece was to wage war upon his beautiful Troy? It wasn't even the first time sluttish Helen had been "stolen away" for her beauty, oh no. But the first time, by a Hero so pure he would not bespoil her virgin loins with his mighty seed?

No, it was a good, stiff cock that girl yearned for, not the weak, dribbled seed of old man Meneleaus. Her womb demanded she till it's fecundity with the hard stiff, fucking of a young, strong Prince like pretty Paris. And Lady Eris? They fucking SNUBBED Her! Fuck those preening Olympians and their pet Kings and Heroes!

Peleus and Thetis should have as their wedding gift, to see their Olympian Gods and Goddesses for the self obsessed, spoiled bitches and thundering spineless bastards they really were. The vanity of woman, exemplified beyond mortal comprehension by the greedy squabbling of deific entitlement.

 "For The most Beautiful one"  She tossed her Hesperidic Apple into the sight of the three most vain, self obsessed, spoiled bratty bitches ever cut from the flesh of a demented child devouring Titan. So greedy, they couldn't even let Thetis, though sired by Zeus himself (but don't tell Hera) and their own half Sister, be "the most beautiful" one, even at her own fucking wedding feast!

Even in her glorious wrath, Eris (who loved a good game above all else) left an option for redemption. All they had to do was let Thetis claim the Apple as her wedding gift. Behave in a way fitting, not for Olympian Gods, but as Guests in the House of their hosts on the day of their Wedding.

Daddy Zeus, cock of the fucking block, patron of Hospitality and the bestower of a guest's right to be treated with respect, he could have put his mighty foot down, and slapped his squabbling family of bitches into line with a single word. But no, so spineless was he, so reluctant to have to go back to the Mountain with Hera's haughty disdain and icy cold psyhcopathic plotting of revenge, he abetted their appalling behavior.

He said he would mediate the issue, then delegated responsibility to Hermes. Who bottled it too, and picked poor Paris, watching his goats on a hillside. Then each would be pretty Goddess, in order to be bitchiest bitch in the bitch pile, and Apple owning Queen of the spoiled sulk, tried bribing the fucking judge. Unbelievable. Monstrous arrogance. Self obsession taken to it's ugly and catastrophic extreme, with not a thought of consequence, or twinge of conscience. Just as Eris had foreseen.

 "Consequence, my pretty ,posing, shamefully behaved progeny? Oh, Grandmother Eris is going to teach you ALL about fucking consequences, you primped up over-privileged priapic bunch of superpowered toddlers! Game on, motherfuckers! (Technically, sibling fuckers, but hey, who's going to point THAT out to Zeus and Hera?)
Eris in one fell move, became Dungeon Master of the Olympian D&D Cabal. The mortal play people that Olympus had for so long been at a loss what to do with, they were going to make some fucking demands of their Gods now. They were going to have to work for their Ambrosia habits. Learn some diplomacy. How to make concessions,  how to back the fuck up a bit, and let these Mortals have their head. Learn some fucking boundaries. Rules. Gamesmanship.

Either that, or it was War in Heaven. With canny Hades, down below, with the souls of all the dead at his command. and jealous plotting, bitter, tricked brother, Poisiedon under the waves, played for the chump again. Waiting for his chance to topple Zeus, and take his rightful turn as crowing cock, King of that dunghill Olympus. No thought for the fact the Earth would be once again under his Ocean, nope, not with him up the Mountain, guzzling barrels of Ambrosia all day long. Thus went the dreams of Posiedon.

And poor Paris, his hard on for Helen was pre-destined to humble the mighty Greeks, to grant them victory over Troy, but to pauper them in the process. Agamemnon, proudest  and most ambitious King of Mycenae, and Meneleaus, his Brother King of Sparta, but only by dint of his marriage to (soon to be stolen away) Helen of Sparta.  Most puissant Queen that mortal man had ever spawned. Original Trophy Bride, the face that launched a thousand (yet to be built) Ships. Wife of an Atreides, the King of the Spartans, mightiest Warriors ever to pick up a Spear. And not really a man who would take being cuckolded by a mere Boy Prince of some far off City with good grace.

This Queen, Helen, was the glue holding the loose confederation of Greek City States together with her dowry, her beauty, and her placement at the tip of the triumverate of powers, Sparta, Athens, and Mycenae.
Casually promised to pretty boy Paris, as his reward for Judging in favour of Aphrodite. Her of the bottomless cunt. So the greedy eyed, cock hungry Daddy's girl, gets what she wants. A fucking Apple. With Kallisti wrote upon it's golden skin.

"Cock-a-doodle me, prettiest of the three you two ugly bitches, bow down to me"
Wisdom was not this jiggly titted honey dripping slut's forte. Olympus's in house rutting whore, Hungry cunted Goddess of sluts, skanks, and cum guzzling slags everywhere with a libido that surpassed even Zeus himself. Her proudest party trick was a cock in each hole, one between her pouty lips, and one in each hand, then bringing them all to bone juddering climax simultaneously, to the enthusiastic applause of those living up the Topside. Proto-Bimbo-Barby slut guts. (Still would though, know what I mean?)
"Attagirl" Zeus would say, under his breath
because Zeus openly admiring any female that wasn't her just sent Hera off into one of her squawking rages.

Slowly, the events set into motion by these blustering bragging irresponsible Olympians were coming together, mortal man's day was here, these unconsidered playthings, whose whole existence was so carefully guarded by Foresight and his brother, Hindsight , (Prometheus and Epimethius) and bought at such price and risk from Zeus;s wrath, now had the teeth that Zeus always feared they'd have.

Now do you start to see the depth of Eris's gamesmanship? See how her carefully planned vengeance would teach them ALL to behave a little bit better? Now Zeus would really have to put the family to work!  Each Olympian designated a sphere of mortal influence, having now to barter their good graces to this scurrying thing, Man, for goats and prayers and promises of fealty, and should they waver in their diligence,  the balance between the triumverate Sons of Cronos, Posieden, Zeus and Hades would crumble, the Kraken would awake, and the World would be lost.

 The Demigods Zeus had so carelessly spawned with any woman shaped thing his dick fancied poking, had founded the dynasties of Man's Kings, and they all looked to Olympus. They could withhold their worship, or turn away, towards other new Gods. (They even had to flee, hide in Egypt and disguise themselves with Animal heads while Heracles sorted the Titan "threat" out for them. (He freed Prometheus too) And in this way, with acts of service, Man's Heroes,  Heracles, Theseus, Perseus, Bellerophon, Achilles, Atreus, Orpheus, all had Zeus's blood in them, and all founded Dynastic Houses, dedicated to their patron Gods. . . Deific inter-personal politics had to be learned by Olympus. The ages of Man grew, from Archaic, Classical, Hellenistic, slowly Greece became more and more apart from it's Gods. The mystery cults of the Orphic Mysteries, the Oracular Pythonesses, and their attendant Priesthoods now held sway, and spoke for the Gods.

Eris sits back in her rocking chair, playing Donkey Kong on her old Nintendo Gameboy, while Zeus bemoans the eventual fall of Greece to Rome, and the quick "shufty" to Romanised forms in order to survive. Eris, although Grandmother of Zeus, and older than the first thought, still as quietly powerful as ever (since her Game had never depended upon people's belief) rocks slowly, her hand rolled fag hanging from her smiling lips  says

"Sack up, Boy, you had your day in the fucking sun didn't you? You did deeds, great and small, noble, and base, your name is still written in the dusty books of Epimetheus's little side project, Man,right?"
Zeus nods glumly.
"They still sacrifice to you, The Thunderer, don't they? Your bolts of lightening still get to feed you, Zeus, now and again?"

"They strap the sacrifices into a chair of wood, Grandmother. HUMAN sacrifices. They begin to show the disease of Cronos, in the way they
feed upon each other, their young, their Wars, all so senseless"

"And where did they get that trait from then? You! You sticking your priapic pecker into their women, you passed Cronos down to them,.. . They are just doing with the gene what they have to, NEED to!"

"And Zeus" said Eris, Zeus looks up. "Since when did you, an Olympian and God, the Mighty Thunderer, Zeus, first of the mighty age of Gods, since when did YOU even give a fuck?" Her eyes twinkle . . .

"Since you fucking MADE us all give a fuck, Grandmother. . . you scheming old Bitch . . .I CARE now, I feel things like . . like I suppose mortals do" Eris nodded, sagely. Waiting for her once slow witted thuggish Grandson to follow his thoughts . . .

"Are we to die like mortals too? Is that what we have come to? An Ignomious death, falling in the dirt and leaving our bones to bleach under the Sun of the next fucking SunHero the monkeys nail up?"

"What am I, some kind of Agony Aunt for your morose moody grumblings? Get up, you moody emo twat, I didn't raise me no whiny lil bastards! Well . . . I did, but you're all grown up now . . . Grown. You're big grown badass son of fucking Chaos, get up and act like it. . .

You don't like your sacrifices all Human and fried? Tell them! Make them fucking listen. You're a GOD, for God's sake. You still have a Crew of other Gods, shake them up some, get a rocket under their arses too, go and do some fucking Godding! I mean it, now get up, and fuck off! I'm sick of the sight of your droopy mawkish face!"

Zeus, stung by the rebukes, and as always, more than a little afraid of this flapping old crone (funny, she was beautiful, young, and vibrant not five minutes ago) gets up, and slouches towards the door. "Forgetting something?" She says. "I don't think so" says Zeus.

"COME HERE AND GIVE YOUR GRANNY A FUCKING KISS YOU LITTLE BASTARD" She screeches at him, all crackly fire and sour piss now, incandescent. Afraid, but more afraid of not doing her will, he kisses her . . . "And"?  . . ."I love you Nan" he says, as hopeless as any other seven year old boy and his cranky old Grandmother.

"I'm proud of you Zeus, you know that? Out of all my ill-considered brats, and their own whelps, you are the one I was always so hard on (I said hard on, she giggled) You know why?" "No" he said . . .

"Because YOU were always the slowest witted, the stupidest, the dummy, the one everyone else took the piss out of. event hough you were the one that could take any three of the others on and whup their sucky arses, Zeus the Goose, what's the use? they'd sing.

 You think you outwitted Posiedon? I had to get in there first and dose him up with Cough syrup and Ativan so that you'd not be the one swimming around with the fucking fishes! Pffft, Now get the fuck out, and don't come back until you've done whatever the fuck it is you're going to do . . . And when you do come back" she paused . . . "Bring us back a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream Love, can you?" "Yes Nan" . . . .

Literate Chaotic / The Death of the Vampire Trope
« on: July 26, 2014, 08:43:46 pm »
The Death of Vampires (as a pre-cursor to the Age of the NWO Zombie Apocalypse, and the eventual refinement of the Human genome)

The cultural transition from Vampires to Zombies is an interesting paradigm shift. Considering the Vampire trope has been pretty much present ever since Bram Stoker wrote Dracula is testament to it's durability as a myth, and it's ability to successfully transform itself according to popular culture's fickle tastes, has given the Vampire a rich and varied canon for writers to draw upon.

From "Nosferatu", to "Buffy",  from "Interview with a Vampire" to "Blade" Vampires have shared an ancient, pre Stoker commonality of rules, but not one so rigid that they couldn't adapt to a more modern World.
In Buffy, Angelus set a groundbreaking precedent, when his Soul was restored to him. Suddenly we had a "good" Vampire, one who was capable of giving and receiving human love, of (more or less) successfully adopting a kind of Methadone recovery program, where The Thirst is managed with regular doses of Pig's blood.  His atonement pretty much follows the AA 12 Step Program, with "The Powers that Be" being his "Higher Power",  The Thirst, being perfectly analogous with Alcoholism.

Buffy is his sponsor, her crew, are his meetings or support group, and his capacity to seek redemption for his past savagery, was returned by default with his soul. Angel is a true Apostate, he turns against his own kind and allies himself with the Slayer, the traditional Nemesis of his kind.

While this added an interesting dynamic to the theme, it also marked the beginning of the Vampire's descent from it's Zenith of undead cultural supremacy. All it took was for one major player (Angel) to turn traitor to his Vampire bredrin to effect this shift.

As a direct result of the Buffy / Angel dynamic, we became introduced to the Dynastic elitism that represented the Old School "Blade" type of Vampires . Despite the Quasi- Imperialistic conservatism  of their Ancient Clans and Houses, the rot set in. Complacent in their supercilious elitism, they're already doomed.

Angel's Vampirism, and his alliance with the Slayer's cause, was a symptom of his Soul's restoration. He was most certainly still a Vampire, (albeit one with a Soul) with all the same Vampire powers, strengths and heightened senses that he'd always had, and his inner conflict of Good Angel / Evil Angelus was explored thoroughly with the spin-off series. And Charisma Carpenter as Angel's Jiminy Cricket style conscience added a fap-worthy sexual frission, that Buffy's shallow, blonde, "psycho killer with a heart" could never quite manage.  This point is iterated over and over by just about every other female in the whole Buffy franchise being way hotter than Michelle Geller. Willow, Hope, Cordelia, Faith, Drusilla, Tara, Kendra . . . .sorry Buffers, but you're the ugly duckling. 

Getting back on topic, we saw Angel's spiritual healing, via his service to "The Powers That Be" and his Soul's growth away from the self centred psychopathy of his Vampire past and his subsequent rediscovery of altruism and conscience. But the nut cruncher was that he was still a Vampire. His polarity shift was a spiritual one, and driven by his Soul's restoration.  Angel betrayed every Vampire precedent for an inexplicable, touching, and occasionally hilarious Buffy-love.

Next nail in the trope's coffin was Blade. With him, we got a very different kind of Beast. Blade gave us a new Vampire type, the Daywalker. A mutated  Vampire "AntiChrist" who fulfilled some old Vampire eschaton prophecy, and who had evolved away from the Ancient Vampire traditional Nightbreed, and mutated into a hybridised Human / Vampire genotype, andf he could pass this genetic shift along to other Vampires, via a serum that allowed The Thirst to be managable.  More importantly, he had immunity to something that had been anathema to every Vampire in history, also something that every other Vampire secretly coveted. He could go out in Sunlight without getting burnt to a painful and permanent Death.

He also wasn't affected by crucifixes, Holy Water or any of the old bugbears that previously afflicted Vampires. Stronger than either Humans or Vampires, feared and rejected by both, his anti-Vampiric activity wasn't spiritually driven ilke Angel's was. Blade was fuelled by his own self-loathing, which manifested as a hatred of Vampires. He still had the pathological Vampire mindset. He still revelled in killing and death, but he had the biological needs of a new, mutated mix. Vampire and Human. A new species, with a clear, unambiguous inner conflict playing it's diametrically oppositional genetic imperatives off against each other

Angel didn't kill other Vampires because he hated them, he did it because of his growing morality, and idealism. He still empathised with his Vampire victims, but he traded off the bloodlust for the Panacea of being able to play "Hide the sausage" with Buffy. Then the idiot fell in love with the meat.  Things got . . . messy. A moonstruck, loved up Vampire, infected with ethical conflict is no good for anyone. His heart, broken by Buffy's fickle need for badboy sex with Spike, (Angel's 13th step Vampire project)  he took his hurty tender Vampire feelz, and left the Hellmouth of Sunnydale, and took his Bwaaah to (where else?) LA.

The "Wolfram and Hart" Law Firm explored in the spin-off series, "Angel" wasn't really much of a deviation from previous canon, but the Clans and Houses of Blade were.

They were modeled on Corporate Structure, and this factor, along with the War of attrition waged by Blade, brought more of the old ways crashing down. The Blade Vampires had unwittingly become infected by the human socio/ psychopathic mindset of Corporate entity.
Corporate Vampires are driven by an exponentially increasing need for money. So economics becomes their primary dynamic, The Thirst expands to include the need for an economic Power structure. This suggests the rot had already set in before Blade began decimating their Clans with his pseudo-shaolin kung-fu training, his Bladed weapon fetish, and his James Bond / Luthercorp spiritual and tech guru support team. 

The fact that Blade was also Black supports another aspect of humanity has crept in and infected the Clans. Racism. After all, you can say what you like about the traditional Vampire roles as shapeshifting Batwinged creatures of the night, Satanic blood drinkers. At best, amoral. At worst, Castle Wolfenstein style Nazi Stormtroopers of Death. Pathologically self centered, yes. Thirst driven evil frenzied gore addicts, totally.
But until Blade, there was no precedent for distinguishing between human ethnicities. But when the Blade Vampire Clan Chiefs say "Daywalker", they might as well be saying "Nigger", because Blade as "Daywalker" represents a new, divergent ethnicity of Vampire, and their hatred of Blade and his Cabal, is fueled by their fear of  "his kind" coming over and taking all their jobs, and walking around in daylight without burning up, mixing the pure ancient Vampire elitism with the unter-menschen  livestock.

Then it all descends into the corrupted, sanitised and impotent "Sparkle in the Sunlight" titwank of Twilight. And I'm not even going to examine that any further, save to say that it's proof that the much loved Vampire trope is dead. All that's left is the twitching undead corpse of Edward Cullen, trying to pass his cold, lifeless seed into Bella's (Humanity's) genetically unviable uterus, and everyone is focused on the CGI False Flag enemy of the Lycans. Pffft!

Too late, Vampire Bitches! You took your eye off the ball, and now you have to pay the inevitable price of failure. Prepare yourselves for the New World Order. The Plague of the Zomby Apocalypse will ensure that none but the strongest and most adaptable of the Homo genome survives.

Homo Sanguinus and Homo Lupus will become obsolete, and die out like Neanderthal Man. Blade in this aspect,  becomes the Luciferic Messiah, the Herald of the New Dawn taking the Light to the Dark places of the Old Ones. Blade ensures the Homo Sapien type aligns itself with the hybrid vigour of his own "Sapio-Sanguinus" genome.

Only an alliance of this type can prevail against the genetically engineered "Crossed"  super-infection of sadistically priapic rape-zombies. Devoid of morality, conscience, and impulse control, these Plus-faced fucks will rape, ravage and decimate humanity's weakest, until their built in lack of self preservation, and propensity towards bi-polar boredom sees them die of exposure, starvation,   
or disease. And out of this ruined World's rubble and bones, from their refuges, bunkers, and fortified hiding places, steps the New Flesh.

                                   When you hear them calling out in the Streets,
"Hide yo Dolphins, hide yo chillun, hide yo clean-faced humans, dey's comin' an they's a rapin'!"
                                          You'd better start running for the hills.

Apple Talk / Open letter. A few thoughts.
« on: March 07, 2012, 04:40:38 pm »
Where to start? Well, I got this thing going. With this crazy chick. I've known her for some time now, and some of you know her too.  And as far as I can tell, none of you like her. She's posted here before, and although she's not said so directly, I think she feels pretty fucking tainted by the whole experience.  But that's OK, I suppose, After all, PD doesn't suit everyone.

I've been here, what?  about 2 years now?
I've really enjoyed most of it. Some of you, I hold in very high esteem. No shit. For real. Most of you, I like  immensly. Some of you, I like less. But there you go. Can't be all things to everyone. I can pretty much roll with most people, without falling out with them. In fact, I think I'm pretty laid back for the most part. And this place has really made me feel better about the whole World from time to time, and that's no mean feat. I like it here.

But anyway. back to my crazy chick. She has never asked me to defend her, She doesn't need me to defend her. And I wouldn't presume to speak for her.
I have, with her, got something rare. She's not like most other people I've ever met. We get on. We have an affininty. We talk about important stuff, we talk about meaningless shit, we talk about random stuff. Or we can share a comfortable silence. She talks lots about her children. She doesn't have a man looking out for her, but I do what I can to help. I don't do too badly from the relationship either. We're tight. And like I said, I've known her a few years. She's very special to me.  And to be honest I'd be kinda lost without her. And she trusts me. Trusts me well enough to tell me all her crazy shit. Trusts me not to tell her wrong. It's all good.

She's intelligent, educated, travelled. She is at times infuriating,  opinionated, and stubborn. Occasionally, she  gets magnificent in wrath. Like only Women truly ever do. And she fights like a fucking Tiger, and doesn't take any shit from anyone. I think that's pretty fucking cool beans. 

I got some shit to do now, but if anyone would like to comment, on anything I've said, feel free. Obviously I'd rather this didn't descend into fucking chaos, but y'know, whatever. I'll put it out here anyway.

Apple Talk / Olympic Training
« on: January 26, 2012, 11:19:07 pm »
This was an answer to &*@"%'s  libertarian apologist comment that The Gods are even more bound by their Deific lack of social skills than we are.
Well, I think it's  about time someone taught them some fucking manners. So I propose turning Mt Olympus into a Re-deification Centre. (I nearly suggested a "Re-hab", but those fuckers were never habilitated in the first place)

Which makes me think that the Titans should get the job of socialising them properly. Prometheus can teach them planning, and goal realisation. Epimetheus can teach them about consequences. And Atlas can teach them about the weight of responsibilty.

Athena can get her gender reassigned.

Apollo can get some therapy for his egocentricism.

Zeus and Hera can get a divorce.

Aphrodite can get an account at Freecams, maximise her demographic and fulfilling her psycho-social compulsion to be 'The prety one'.

Hermes can have a facebook account, as long as he stops being such a shit stirring gossipy little bitch.

Hestia can be given every weekend off, so she's not stuck up there 24/7 doing all the Housework for those other lazy bitches.

Hephaestus can get some Family therapy, with Zeus and Hera to resolve the issues he must have after getting thrown off the Mountain that time. (And get his Cousin Asclepius to do something with his gammy lag)

Ares can get some help with his people skills. War is not always the answer.

Eros can get a dose of good penicillin, stop hanging around with dolphins.and being such a fuck monkey.

And before any of these fuckwads are allowed back off the Hill, they have to pass a Parole board hearing. And satisfy the board that they hold no risk of buggering about again, and messing shit up.

They may be reassigned Deific duties again, but only on a Meritocratic basis. And at my discretion.

Helpful suggestions anyone?

And there should be more co-operation between the Board of Directors. Zeus, Hades, and Posiedon should have an Exchange program, where each one has to be able to do the other two's jobs, with efficiency, and understanding. Then they could put that sibling rivalry thing behind them, and put those trust issues to bed.

Techmology and Scientism / Mirror Universe?
« on: January 19, 2012, 09:01:11 am »
Might be a stupid question, but if a magnetised needle pointed South instead of North, would our map of the World look like this?

85% of  US Children show at least half a dozen behavioural markers for psychopathy, Nobel winning Psychologist Dr Lulzy McCuntbubble revealed this morning.  He said, of the secret tests whose results came out last week,  "Half of the children diagnosed will be medicated with Adderal, according to accepted ADHD protocols. The other half are to be enrolled in behavioural realignment centres, to undergo new 'Positive re-imprinting sessions' (Beta) to minimise the impact of their 'Dystopic parental engrams'.

The Investors will sanction the whole program as "Conducive to maximising potential erg quotient per unit processed". Then the whole team  get jobs in Pharmaceutical research. Military Applications of boundary re-alignment therapy., or some other fucked up way to abuse every neuro reprogramming bio-aug compound they find.

Not as a ladder to help us climb out of the psycho septic environment we seem to have been slopping around in forever, but to tunnel deeper into the stinking  turdstack of tradition, patriotism, and daily def-con updates after every weather report. The bastards. 

In Financial News tonight, Share prices in FucktechCorps have increased by a record 3300% in the last hour, despite their hostile takeover bid for SmithKlineBeecham collapsing earlier this morning. A spokesman for the Federal Wall St Reserve Stock Executive,  said the Markets this morning were "Ready for another good skullfuck".

In other News tonight, blah blah blah blah Eurofap blah bukkake wibble Angela Merkle egg on face.
£ Sterling blah blah burble gurp full of win.

Austroslavinian Insurgents invade France over imagined Nazi taunts .
France welcomes new administration with Gallic shrugs. Then blames Britain's "Soap Embargo" for the systematic breakdown of personal hygiene standards from Paris to Provence last year.

Britain's Foreign Secretary Howard Marks described the accusations yesterday as a "Load of old whiny bollocks".

Another 3000 Americans were Jailed yesterday for refusing to pay President Phelps' controversial Rapture Tax, bringing the total to 3,750,912 this year alone. Phelps has an unprecedented 100% backing from Congress, for a progressive new series of Interment programs to pick up the slack in the Prison system. Vice President Arpaio vowed yesterday to "Get the rest o' them Tax evading bastards safely locked away before next year's Tuscon Olympics".

Luckily, Mexico's successful bid for the menial labouring jobs means the newly formed Arizona Beachfront Olympic Complex can be built without cutting into the State Internment Budget.

Israel said yesterday that there would be no Enquiry into the Extra Judiciary Killing of Tony Blair by Mossad Agents last March. The evidence he was due to give in his Trial for alleged involvement in an Eastern European Paedophile / Downs syndrome sex trafficking ring will now not be heard, and the collapse of the other 92 cases that hinged upon Blair's vital testimony is expected to be announced later today.

In the Former Chinese territories yesterday, it was reported that . . . . . . . . . .  well, who the fuck cares?  Now, a word from The Lifestyle and Nutrition Agency about new Federal food sanctions.  Don't touch that dial . . .. .  :hanging:   

Or Kill Me / By the left. . . . . . .
« on: December 01, 2011, 11:22:29 pm »
I decided to take my work underground to stop it falling into the wrong hands. I can't tell a wrong hand from a hole in the ground though. So I buried everything in a hole. In the ground. I'll need a hand to dig it up again though. A left hand. (Just so there's no ambiguity about right hands / wrong hands) Left hands are the best anyway. I'm left handed solely on the strength of left hands being superior to the right. It doesn't mean anything sinister.
Yes, I know it really does mean sinister, but only if you are being Mr Pedantic pants. And I'm not.

By the leeeeft, (Always by the left) quick, March! Takes me back. The King's shilling. Square bashing, Yomping 45 miles to Goose green, Polishing the Brigadier's swagger stick every morning, shiny, shiny brass buttons, Nothing to eat except Bully beef and ship's biscuits, teach Jerry to mix it with an Englishman when his dander's up and the red mist rises over Primrose Hill. It'll all be over by Christmas boys, then it's Bluebirds over my white Vauxhall Nova, 5 Months Tax and MOT. *sighs* I guess we all died a little in that damned War!

Apple Talk / Crap Joke thread.
« on: October 31, 2011, 12:08:08 pm »
How many lawyers does it take to change a light bulb?

Whereas the party of the first part, also known as "Lawyer," and the party of the second part, also known as "Light Bulb," do hereby and forthwith agree to a transaction wherein the party of the second part (Light Bulb) shall be removed from the current position as a result of failure to perform previously agreed upon duties, i.e. the lighting, elucidation, and otherwise illumination of the area ranging from the front (north) door, through the entryway, terminating at an area just inside the primary living area, demarcated by the beginning of the carpet, any spillover illumination being at the option of the party of the second part (Light Bulb) and not required by the aforementioned agreement between the parties.

The aforementioned removal transaction shall include, but not be limited to, the following steps:

The party of the first part (Lawyer) shall, with or without elevation at his option, by means of a chair, stepstool, ladder or any other means of elevation, grasp the party of the second part (Light Bulb) and rotate the party of the second part (Light Bulb) in a counter-clockwise direction, this point being non-negotiable.
Upon reaching a point where the party of the second part (Light Bulb) becomes separated from the party of the third part ("Receptacle"), the party of the first part (Lawyer) shall have the option of disposing of the party of the second part (Light Bulb) in a manner consistent with all applicable state, local and federal statutes.
Once separation and disposal have been achieved, the party of the first part (Lawyer) shall have the option of beginning installation of the party of the fourth part ("New Light Bulb"). This installation shall occur in a manner consistent with the reverse of the procedures described in step one of this self-same document, being careful to note that the rotation should occur in a clockwise direction, this point also being non-negotiable.
Note: The above described steps may be performed, at the option of the party of the first part (Lawyer), by any or all persons authorized by him, the objective being to produce the most possible revenue for the party of the fifth part, also known as "Partnership."

eta; Come on, everybody knows one. . . . . . . One Imperial Fuckton of comedy kudos for the crappest joke.

Or Kill Me / Forgiveness
« on: October 03, 2011, 05:38:39 am »
To the driver of that green mk1 Ford Fiesta. (They know who they are)

Look, what you did, all that time ago has been burning inside me like a fire, ever since you did it, to the extent that I've lost weeks of my life, just planning revenge, and destruction to be visited upon you, by me, at the first opportunity, you fucking nasty evil motherfucker
I have walked through a red mist, of your spilled lifeblood for so long, it became a constant scream that never stopped, not for a minute, and even now, is baying for me to take your life.  I hope against hope, the consequences of what you did, have not been gentle with you. I like to think you have suffered greatly because of your actions, as did your victim. However, I'm telling you this because I've decided that I'm no longer seeking your death, or going to kill you. You know what you've done, and you know I have every reason to strike you down in vengeance and retribution. But. . . . . . I forgive you.

But I can no longer be bothered with it, and I'm writing this, to you, just in case you were unaware of how much your actions have affected my life. 
I trust next time you want to want to drive too fast around a corner, you'll think of my poor dead, squashed Tigger Puss, and slow down, you Cat murdering bastard!

OK, I'm done, the cat is long dead, I'm not consumed with revenge anymore, but you are still a cat killing motherfucker!
Love, BadBeast.

Think for Yourself, Schmuck! / Aunty BadBeast's Agony Column.
« on: September 29, 2011, 02:17:14 pm »
"Dear Aunrty BadBeast,
 My Boyfriend dumped me when I admitted to him that I was cross gendered. Can I sue him for breach of something or other?
Love, Puberta."

Well, Pubert(a) ?,
There's a little bit more to it than that, isn't there Sweety?
 It was the way that you told him that drove him away.
Coming home all drunk, and saying you had "something important" to ask him?  (OK, up until now)

Making him wear a blindfold?  That was a really vulnerable moment for him.
And  then, according to his friend, (Who was ONLY IN THE KITCHEN, FFS!!)
You said  "I have a lovely surprise for you, Big Boy, open your mouth!"
He thought it was going to be a Hearts and flowers moment, and that you were going to ask him to marry you!
But  then you said, (And I quote) "Open wider Baby, I've got a throb on, and it's going right in your pie-hole",  then tactlessly  forced him to fellate your new p3nis, in an act of brutal mouth raep!
Well, it came as a bit of a shock to the poor fella, know what I mean?

He said the real clincher,  and what really drove the big spiky stick of skullfuck so  irretrievably deep into his poor abused and battered heart, was the fact that your new c0ck is nearly TWICE THE SIZE OF HIS!

And asking him to refer to it as your "Flame Grilled Whopper" as you almost drowned him with your "Special sauce"??  That was *ahem* the Icing on the Cake!
That must be the crassest thing I ever heard, and beleive me, I've heard some real doodies!

(And forgive me if I quote your own, long suffering and thankfully, dead Mother's last words here)

"Pubert, Sweety, I love you like a Son,  but you have all the tact and charm, of a pair of badly wrapped, shit sharted underpants, in a 'special' child's Christmas stocking.  If there's any Justice at all in this World, you will die alone, in pain, with sharp things in your face."
(That woman had a rare gift for understatement if you ask me)
I know it sounds a bit brutal, but that's only because I am enjoying this so much  I care about you. ( lol)
Now fuck off.
Hope this helps Dear,   Aunty BadBeast, x.

Aneristic Illusions / The Day the Country died.
« on: September 26, 2011, 11:44:08 am »
Interesting retrospective documentary on the History of Anarcho-Punk.  Much rare footage of bands like
Crass / Conflict / Subhumans / Liberty / Toxic Waste / Chumbawamba / Sacrilege / Inner Terrestrials.


I was looking for the "Emo breakup poetry" thread, but I couldn't find it. So here's an extended mawkish rewrite of the ghastly drivel I (think I) posted in there ages ago.
*Giggle, cut, sob, ouch oops!*  :cry:  :lulz: :x

I've called it "Bwaaaaah".

Oh God, oh God, whyyy did you leave me?
Every waking breath I feel your loss like a broken bottle in my throat!
I get out of bed (Our bed!) sobbing.

At night, I weep into my pillow. (Your pillow)
I gave you my everything! (Bitch) It was always you.
You were always the one. The one for me. And you LEFT! (hateyouhateyousob)

I gave you my  beating heart, but you sucked it dry!  (Slagbitchslag)
Tossed a blackened, broken, septic thing back to me.
As you walked out the door.

I tried to win you back.
Waited outside your work.
(You had me arrested)
Bought you gifts.
(You sent them them back)
Bought you more gifts.
(Your Brothers kicked my arse)
I sat outside your house. All weekend.
(Arrested again)
Why do you HATE me? Why?

I've already forgiven YOU!

(Or I would if you came back)
I can change! Be different!
Be what you want me to be!
Just tell me! What do I have to doooooooo,. . . . . . . .?

 I fucking love you!  Does that mean nothing at all?
Who nodded sagely, whenever anyone said "Love is all you need"
(Like some demented Yoko)

 I fucking Love you!
You fed all my cravings with your casual, well rehearsed cut scenes!
(I can see that now)

You created me out of lust, need, and insecurity.
And then you left me to bleed out my lifeblood,
drip by drip, in this solitary translucent travesty of living.

You were happy to play the Sun, to my orbital worshipping planet. 
Now you choose to obscure your face, in a perpetual semi eclipse.

"Is my agony of shattered need too painful to see"? I asked. Hopefully.
(I could have worn that)

"No" You replied.
"It's just boring, dull and pointless".

But I fucking Love you!
(Love fucking you)
Is that worth so very fucking little?  Isn't my suffering enough for you?
And it IS you I suffer for,. You must know that.

I can suffer more.
Oh yes, I can twist the rest of my sorry, pointless life into one huge monument of suffering if I have to! (But only for you)

How much more do you want? Do you need? 
(I'll show you suffering)
Lifesucker! IhateyouBITCHSLAGWHOREhateyou)

Oblivious to my pain.
I see you "Enjoying your own space" as you so crassly put it.
Only I know you.
 I can see the real you.
You think your pain is too good for the World.
(Why aren't you hurting too?)
Give me a glimpse of your fucking pain!
Show me YOUR hurt!
(Then I can draw a line under this whole thing!)
Just a small thing.
(You owe me that, at least)

My life?
Now burned to a crisp in the flame of your indifference.

My Will?
Ground out under the heel of your absence like a cigarette butt.
(Smoked to the very last drag)

With nonchalent levity, I see you walk down the street, like I wasn't even there!
(OK, so I wasn't really there, but I know)

I fucking hateyouhateyouyHATEyou!
I slashed myself, sobbing in the twilight stinkhole of my dank, darkened lair .
And I forgave you!

All this pain that you're causing me.
(over and over)
I forgave you before you even ASKED me to!

Forgiveyou, loveyou, worshipyou, needyou, missyou hateyou fuckyou!
FUCKYOUyou COLDheartlessBitch! 

(You made me!)
Broken, empty, used up.

(You did this!)
Useless. A thing of pain, need, and sorrow.
(I drowned, long ago in my own tears!)

To suffer is my only function now. And even this I can bear. 
(If  you would only just acknowledge me) 

But you only know how to ignore me now.
I'll make you notice me, again. 
(One last time)
I will.
(I did)
What you see hanging before you, in your bright, cheery stairwell is just my empty husk!
Swinging gently with the last momentum of the drop.

"It's too late now!" I say.
(Or I would say)

Can you see my life drain away? 
As you try to cut me down?
(You should have thought of that)

You tore out my heart! My soul.
(My fucking LIFE!)

So how does that feel? 

Do you miss the taste of my suffering, now that it's over?
No more suffering.
(For me)

Your's is just beginning!
(Oh yes)

Is this what you wanted?
(Ha! 'Cos it's too late now!)

Has the sweet taste of victory turned to ashes in your mouth yet?
Has it?

Is this what you what you wanted?
(Help, help me, I'm fucking DEAD!) 

Are you happy now?
*Slipping away to nothing*

Fuck it, I really am dead! 
(Dead . . . . . . . !???)
Oops!  Well if that don't beat it all, . . . . . .

Or Kill Me / Punk as fuck!
« on: August 30, 2011, 06:29:42 pm »
"Punk as Fuck" means having, and nurturing the kind of the attitude and neckiness that will you lie, wheedle and indulge your capacity for bullshitting, by applying as earnestly as you can, to join the Special Constabulary. Then running with it to see how far through the process you can get before you
A/ Can no longer keep a straight face, or
B/ Get ejected from their premises for being a "clever cunt" or
C/ Fail to resist the instinctual impulse to spike their coffee machine with LSD, mixed with super-strength Laxatives.

If, by some implausible combination of apparent credibility, feigned enthusiasm, and/or an unbelievably slack selection process, they say "Welcome to the Team, Special Constable BadBeast, you start on Monday" You need to give the fuckers both barrels, right away, with something like "Fuck that, you gullible cunt, do you seriously think I could ever go through this application process for any reason other than the satisfaction of telling you, at this point, that I'd rather eat my own shit than put that Uniform on"?
Scornful mocking laughter goes down well at moments like this too, (as does taking a dump in the kettle before you walk out)
The ensuing levels of butthurt might even get you charged under section 3 of the "Making Plod look stupider" Act, but in the immortal words of some Wise old 'orrible Punker from back in the day, "So what? So what? So what, so what, you boring little cunts!"

Green Day are not Punk. The Sex Pistols never were. (They were just a boy band)  The Dead Kennedys are Punk, as were the Ramones.
Crass were Punk,  Billy Idol is not. The Clash were Punk, Toyah Wilcox wasn't. The Anti-Nowhere League were Punk, Megadeth are not.   
Jerry Sadovicz is Punk, Jerry Springer whilst funny, is not. Rock and Roll is Punk with Edwardian Frock coats and DA hair. Punk is never having to say you're sorry.
New Wave was just sorry.

So what is Punk as fuck, to you?   

For the past couple of weeks, my PC has been randomly bluescreening. I've changed the graphics cards, drivers, Ram sticks, re-installed XP (SP2),  System restores, all the usual stuff, and it still dies on me, say, every half an hour ish. the message i get is



Any ideas will be greatly appreciated, thanks chaps.

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