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Topics - President Television

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32
Bring and Brag / AN ODE TO THE EXON
« on: November 05, 2009, 04:19:22 am »
O GLORIOUS EXON!
HOW YOU SIT UPON
THAT DOUBLE HELIX FRAME!
THE FEEBLE INTRON,
HOW IT KEEPS RIGHT ON
NOT DOING ANYTHING; ITíS LAME!

YOU ARE COOL
THE OTHER GENES ARE FOOLS
YOUíRE A TOOL
BUT YOUíRE STILL COOL

TRANSCRIPTION IS WHERE ITíS AT
AND WHEN IT HAPPENS THEY FALL FLAT
POLYMERASE OF RNA
COMES TO PEEL YOU ALL AWAY
PROMOTERS TELL IT WHERE TO BIND
YOU KNOW THEY CANíT BE HARD TO FIND

ADANINE, GUANINE,
THYMINE, CYTOSINE
RNA HAS ALL BUT THYMINE
IT HAS URACIL
INSTEAD OF THYMINE
THAT CAT IS WAY TOO RADICAL
FOR THAT RNA
DAYUM, THATíS THYMINE

EXONS AND INTRONS ARE TRANSCRIBED
TO MESSENGER RNA
BUT NO INTRONS HEREIN DESCRIBED
EVER, EVER GET TO STAY
THATíS DISCRIMINATION!
ITíS A FASCIST NATION!
BUT WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO
WHEN THOSE NAZIS LIVE IN YOU?

ITíS THEN THAT MESSENGER RNA
FINALLY LEAVES THE DOCKING BAY
OF THE NUCLEUS TO PAY
A VISIT TO A RIBOSOME,
WHICH HAS ITS OWN RNA.
ITíS CALLED RIBOSOMAL RNA!

THREE BASES IN THE RNA
MAKE A CODON, SO THEY SAY
AND TRANSFER RNA
FORMS ANTICODONS
WHICH ATTACH TO THESE IN A LOGICAL WAY
AND BRING AMINO ACIDS IN;
THUS PROTEIN SYNTHESIS BEGINS

THE AMINO ACIDS FORM A CHAIN
THIS CHAIN IS A POLYPEPTIDE CHAIN
NOT SOME OTHER KIND OF CHAIN
LIKE A NON-SCIENTIFIC-JARGON CHAIN
OR A SEND THIS TO X AMOUNT OF FRIENDS MAIL CHAIN
OR A RHYMING BRAIN RAIN CRANE LANE CHAIN
IT IS A POLYPEPTIDE CHAIN
AND IT IS A PROTEIN

33
Apple Talk / THE ULTIMATE DISCORDIAN TROLL THREAD
« on: November 03, 2009, 03:05:58 am »
post like so:

Any Law & Order fans around these parts?

34
Or Kill Me / Imaginary Fappings
« on: November 01, 2009, 05:35:26 am »
It happens sometimes. It's easier than it should be, you know. It's easy to pull up the carpets we throw down over everything, easy to see all the shit we hide beneath our mind. You just have to imagine it. Visualise it. That's how I do it. I look around me, I see gravel, I see a house and leaf piles and trees and a dumpster and a city around it all. I don't really look at the sky.

Anyway, I just have to think the right thoughts, and it all goes away, it all becomes alien to me, nameless. I just have to think "there is no such thing as a house." That thought is key for me. I think it, and I've just opened up this barred door and strolled down the hallway. The inmates must be so jealous. Suddenly, I see not house, but windows, then doors, then siding, all one at a time, floating in midair. And then I look around me, and I see this invisible sheet over everything, this crazy blanket. And I peel it back. Underneath, the shapes are the same, and the colours are the same, but they aren't the same things. It's now that I'm finally free to decide what I see. Hey, that rhymes.

I tell myself to be paranoid. Something is behind me! I whirl to see it, but it was too fast for me. Gotta keep looking over your shoulder, cause you never know who's got a gun at your back. And it's then that it occurs to me. I can feel it. It's poking into me. The gun is there. It's a rifle, no, a shotgun, fuck that, it's a pistol at the base of my skull. I don't know who's holding it. I keep twisting my head around to see it, but the gunman's too fast for me. Then I think to look at my shadow. I just want to know what this person looks like, understand. Just want a vague idea. And there is no shadow.

There's no shadow because the gun is invisible. The gun is invisible because it's in my mind. I know who's holding it now. And really, it doesn't matter if it's a gun or not. It could be a truncheon. What matters is who's holding it. And that person is my guard. I guess I'd better go inside now. It's black and wet out here, and I'm a crazyman. I submit, and walk back towards my cell. I guess I still haven't given up completely, though, because I figure maybe I should stop in my tracks, turn, walk away from that imaginary house. But the gun is still there. No matter where I go, I will always have this invisible gun to my head. No matter where I walk, I will only be walking back to my black iron prison cell. It's fucking depressing. I go inside, up the stairs, I take off my coat. Sometimes, hope is hard to find. I guess I have to make it up myself.

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