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[I cast my vote and thats as much an influence as i can have without a protest or running for office myself.]

Serving an evil man is not an honorable act.

I agree with that.  Do you think GW is evil? If so, "why" is a topic for a different thread maybe.

If you have to ask why, then you have a very weak grasp of both the constitution and human rights in general.

This really goes back to the problem of electing someone to represent you, he never quite actually does.  His red tape cutting was allowed by MORE people that the Majority elected.  Its a ridiculous never ending process in which my morality does not stem from.  I cast my vote and thats as much an influence as i can have without a protest or running for office myself.

What the royal fuck do you think we're trying to do here?

We don't stage protests, and we don't try to get each other elected into offices (except for Prezitator Fred, but never mind), because those are OLD tricks. The Machine can deal with mass protests; there have been so many that it's gotten pretty good at marginalizing their influence. It can deal with a few loose screws getting put into powerful positions.

Don't let the enemy choose the battlefield.

http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=15484.0

Something new, linked here for archival purposes.

What is this crap? Owait... I wrote it.


In other news, Jack of Turnips is the best potential contributor to Lollercaust that I can think of, because I've read a fair amount of his stuff (on PD.com and Uncyclopedia). It's pretty much all brilliantly funny and insightful.

Jack, if you're reading this, we need YUOR help! Inspiration is available free of charge!

If the government employs or mis-employs the military to secure power for itself or power for the country, than that is fine.  It is this power that maintains the American standard of living.  If you and i cannot see what is necessary, you have already entrusted your vote to the candidate you THINK will do the right thing.  Suppose GW is doing the right thing, to save America in the long run.  I DONT KNOW AND NEITHER DO YOU.  Often times these things are not written in the history books, even if he is hated and labeled by history as the ruiner of the American economy for many years,  only the players involved in this game will ever know the truth.  Reserve your judgement, because you are not involved in any of the decisions he has to make BASED ON INFORMATION YOU DO NOT KNOW.

Somehow, the idea of this being passed out as a flyer fills me with as much lulz as reading it the first time did with anger and terror.

It sounds like something we might have actually written as a mindfuck.

O RLY? I wasn't thinking of that when I wrote it, I was just trying to express how it felt when I was going through so much chaos and stress in my life that the only way to keep myself sane was to go a little bit insane (bending rather than breaking, etc.) by taking the attitude that everything is funny as hell...

Oh, I guess I was thinking about Lollercaust without realizing it.

You're weird.

The Flaming Lips - The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song

Thank ye, thank ye one and all.

He dug through the rocky soil on which he knelt, scraping away with hands that were callused despite the thick and worn canvas gloves that protected them. The wet dirt soaked the gloves, chilling his hands.

"See," he thought to himself, "never thought you'd love a simple pair of gloves, eh? Useless for keeping out the cold, but these hands would be bloodied up without 'em, no doubt." He grinned, and pushed away some more dirt to reveal the prize he sought: a humble potato, grown in the land he had claimed and planted by his own hands. The gloves, the dirt, the potato (and the several dozen like it in the field), and his own rough, cold hands... he loved all these things, and his grin grew wider at the thought of all the love there was in his life now. Since the incident twelve years ago, he'd learned to love the hard, gritty, dirty things that kept him alive. Other people were so morbid and unhappy about what had been lost those twelve years ago, but really, he thought, hadn't there been enough time to get over it? No matter; he loved those people who complained anyway, because they helped keep him alive as well, and he them. Still, he wished they could face up to reality a little better.

"After all," he said aloud to no one in particular, "you can't really be miserable when your life's as good as it could possibly be." That's how it was: since the incident, a life sustained by digging up potatoes and sleeping in a crude stone hut was about as good a life as one could get. And happiness was all about living the good life.

He had laughed those twelve years ago, when everything had collapsed and the United States of America was essentially bought by its creditors. He still laughed sometimes, to himself, but he knew it disturbed the others so he tried to only do it when no one else was around. However, just last week one of the others had seen him leaning against the wall of his hut--the first one he'd helped build--giggling uncontrollably.

"Damn you, stop laughing!" She barked at him with the tone of one who is sick of hearing a joke she doesn't get, "What is wrong with you? Do you like the state the world is in? Because if you do, you're sick!"

He stifled his laughter and wiped his eyes clear. "I know you don't think it's funny but try to understand... I saw it coming all along, and the look of shock on everyone's faces was precious. I'm sorry you can't appreciate it; it's kept me in tears of laughter for twelve years. The old world could never do that for me."

"You and Roger are two of the most twisted people I have ever met. I'll never understand any of you crackpots," and she walked off, shaking her head.

Roger was like him. He had seen it coming, he had laughed when it happened, and he still laughed. The traveling merchants talked about other people who were like that. In fact, many of the travelers themselves cracked a strange smile whenever the incident was mentioned. In the survivor communes to the south, they said, people like that were actually called Laughingmen. The world he lived in needed Laughingmen like himself and Roger. For years, they had been the only ones who could smile. Their mad laughter kept everyone alive, and he loved it.

I knew I could never see the FULL depth of human stupidity, that the abyss of idiocy is infinite... but this is remarkable.

About 99.9% of my thoughts are in words, and I find it an infuriating handicap in certain situations (art and music are utterly foreign to my brain). In other situations, it makes me look like a genius.

My little brother was diagnosed with autism (the diagnosis was later changed to Asperger's, but never mind), and I know he thinks in images. Ever since he was old enough to hold a pen, has has spent his spare time drawing pictures of things that interest him, and no one has ever had to ask him, "what's this a picture of?", because he can represent his thoughts in visual form effortlessly. The only thing he struggles to draw is humans

To quote Sean Nelson, "When you base your whole identity on reaction against somebody, it's the same as being in love".

HAHAHA, that's brilliant!

"Do everything you can to oppose the terrorists!"

I have no idea what you just said, Jack, but it made me

[The Landmine]

The Landmine

Any large community is going to have a certain amount of 'history' (read: butthurt) among certain of its posters. There will be a certain amount of animosity lurking beneath the surface between these people. Or it could be a tired and super-old debate that only causes more problems than it solves whenever it rears its ugly head. Whatever. The point is that should you stumble upon what this is, you will almost certainly piss off certain members if you make any references to it, bring it up again or even ask questions about it.

Quick, someone target us! We're a prime trolling environment!

Those of us still waiting for drawings are clearly second tier discordians.

Feh, I'm not even an Ass Polyp.

CLEARLY YUO ARE READING MY THOUGHTS AND POSTING THEM ON PD.COM VIA A THOUGHT-STEALING THINGAMAJIG THAT THE DOCTORS IMPLANTED IN MY BRAYNE WHEN I WAS HAVING MY "APPENDECTOMY"!



See? Being a wannabe schizo makes you look 'tarded.