Real question, what if your online identity is your identity. Am I guilty of this myself, probably.
It's so much easier to be interesting online, especially in forums. You can meet lots of amazing people that you'll never meet.
We just drink and smoke and snort and get interesting. It's real easy that way.
Unless there's a group of serious underground, action-oriented discordians that I haven't come across. But really, we just have our fun online, and it's fun, because it AIN'T REAL.
Well fuck me, I've been drinking again. So I'm back here.
Btw, if there is, then fuck the underground, action-oriented discordians. Compassion and Work is way fuckin harder than fun. Fun is Easy. So is moral relativism... easier than Work, that is.
You may find yourself interesting online, but the results are less convincing on my side of the monitor.
(http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OXs0YNU9llw/TgVEY8HvqHI/AAAAAAAAO78/1LpjzACaC_k/s1600/MGEmma.gif)
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 05, 2014, 07:26:13 AM
Well fuck me, I've been drinking again. So I'm back here.
We already had a racist this year.
Quote from: Hoopla on September 05, 2014, 10:20:20 AM
You may find yourself interesting online, but the results are less convincing on my side of the monitor.
Beat me to it :lulz:
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on September 05, 2014, 02:09:44 PM
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 05, 2014, 07:26:13 AM
Well fuck me, I've been drinking again. So I'm back here.
We already had a racist this year.
A racist? I could have sworn we'd had more than half a dozen this year. I may be mistaking racists for crazy people.
Quote from: Junkenstein on September 05, 2014, 02:29:18 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on September 05, 2014, 02:09:44 PM
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 05, 2014, 07:26:13 AM
Well fuck me, I've been drinking again. So I'm back here.
We already had a racist this year.
A racist? I could have sworn we'd had more than half a dozen this year. I may be mistaking racists for crazy people.
Cowass is the genuine article.
Quote from: Hoopla on September 05, 2014, 10:20:20 AM
You may find yourself interesting online, but the results are less convincing on my side of the monitor.
:lol: This.
The funny thing is that if you actually ARE interesting online, you can end up meeting people and having all kinds of IRL fun. Which, if you are smart, you won't run your mouth about when you get back online. :lol:
7.
Jesus Christ, are you still butthurt?
How many people are addicted to passive-aggressive online nonsense under the guise of "just thinking out loud"? At least one, I'd guess.
Quote from: Cain on September 05, 2014, 07:13:40 PM
Jesus Christ, are you still butthurt?
How many people are addicted to passive-aggressive online nonsense under the guise of "just thinking out loud"? At least one, I'd guess.
:lulz:
I was butthurt for years. My asshole was inexplicably and incredibly irritated no matter what I did. Hypoallergenic everything. Cotton underpants. Jamming a giant dildo all up in there. Cutting out the spicy food. Taking medication for intestinal parasites. Having a nurse show me where my prostate is. Showers. Baths. No bathing period. It was fucked up man.
Everywhere I would go, my butthole taunted me. You can't itch it in public but you can scratch your buttcheek in a way that causes friction on your shithole—an art that I mastered very quickly. On an near autonomic level, I would smear my buttcheeks against the chair in a twitch of rage, my face slightly flushing in extreme restrained horror. Did someone see that? Can other people decode these surreptitious anal paroxysms? I became suspicious of anyone shifting a little too vigorously in their seat.
I started having fantasies of being in the passenger seat of a car doing 60 on a gravel road, opening the car door, and dragging my bare anus against the ground. I stopped trusting myself around power sanders. Rose bushes and their long straight stems full of thorns beckoned me. Maybe I could just murder it with a large bore power drill and get a prosthetic anus installed.
I went to a Vipassana meditation retreat for a week where you had to sit still on your ass for hours and hours and hours every day. The first day I wanted to violently attack every human being in my vicinity. Look at those shits, sitting peacefully on their stupid fucking meditation pillows. They have no idea I'm a raging nutcase barely holding on to my stillness by half an ass hair. By day two, I was hallucinating. By day three, I received waking visions of a rusted, filthy ten foot diameter pipe expelling fish at total capacity, but the pipe turned into an laughing Asian man's anus, still excreting the same volume of fish. After the last day, I told everyone I hated them and I went home.
Then, for no apparent reason, I was fine. I have no idea when exactly or why it went away. It was like it never happened. All this time I thought I'd be shitting out a gigantic, mutant tapeworm, snapping at my buttcheeks, thrashing in the toilet water. But instead, it just vanished, just as mysteriously as it arrived.
That's begging to be the opening chapter of a novel. In fact, if you could sustain that, an entire literary novel on the theme of butthurt would probably sell really fucking well.
Quote from: Cain on September 06, 2014, 06:37:19 AM
That's begging to be the opening chapter of a novel. In fact, if you could sustain that, an entire literary novel on the theme of butthurt would probably sell really fucking well.
Thanks! I've actually never considered that because I've been completely obsessed with expressing "A Universe of Assholes" visually.
I think you've helped me make a breakthrough.
Quote from: N E T on September 06, 2014, 06:24:43 AM
I was butthurt for years. My asshole was inexplicably and incredibly irritated no matter what I did. Hypoallergenic everything. Cotton underpants. Jamming a giant dildo all up in there. Cutting out the spicy food. Taking medication for intestinal parasites. Having a nurse show me where my prostate is. Showers. Baths. No bathing period. It was fucked up man.
Everywhere I would go, my butthole taunted me. You can't itch it in public but you can scratch your buttcheek in a way that causes friction on your shithole—an art that I mastered very quickly. On an near autonomic level, I would smear my buttcheeks against the chair in a twitch of rage, my face slightly flushing in extreme restrained horror. Did someone see that? Can other people decode these surreptitious anal paroxysms? I became suspicious of anyone shifting a little too vigorously in their seat.
I started having fantasies of being in the passenger seat of a car doing 60 on a gravel road, opening the car door, and dragging my bare anus against the ground. I stopped trusting myself around power sanders. Rose bushes and their long straight stems full of thorns beckoned me. Maybe I could just murder it with a large bore power drill and get a prosthetic anus installed.
I went to a Vipassana meditation retreat for a week where you had to sit still on your ass for hours and hours and hours every day. The first day I wanted to violently attack every human being in my vicinity. Look at those shits, sitting peacefully on their stupid fucking meditation pillows. They have no idea I'm a raging nutcase barely holding on to my stillness by half an ass hair. By day two, I was hallucinating. By day three, I received waking visions of a rusted, filthy ten foot diameter pipe expelling fish at total capacity, but the pipe turned into an laughing Asian man's anus, still excreting the same volume of fish. After the last day, I told everyone I hated them and I went home.
Then, for no apparent reason, I was fine. I have no idea when exactly or why it went away. It was like it never happened. All this time I thought I'd be shitting out a gigantic, mutant tapeworm, snapping at my buttcheeks, thrashing in the toilet water. But instead, it just vanished, just as mysteriously as it arrived.
:mittens:
Quote from: N E T on September 06, 2014, 06:24:43 AM
I was butthurt for years. My asshole was inexplicably and incredibly irritated no matter what I did. Hypoallergenic everything. Cotton underpants. Jamming a giant dildo all up in there. Cutting out the spicy food. Taking medication for intestinal parasites. Having a nurse show me where my prostate is. Showers. Baths. No bathing period. It was fucked up man.
Everywhere I would go, my butthole taunted me. You can't itch it in public but you can scratch your buttcheek in a way that causes friction on your shithole—an art that I mastered very quickly. On an near autonomic level, I would smear my buttcheeks against the chair in a twitch of rage, my face slightly flushing in extreme restrained horror. Did someone see that? Can other people decode these surreptitious anal paroxysms? I became suspicious of anyone shifting a little too vigorously in their seat.
I started having fantasies of being in the passenger seat of a car doing 60 on a gravel road, opening the car door, and dragging my bare anus against the ground. I stopped trusting myself around power sanders. Rose bushes and their long straight stems full of thorns beckoned me. Maybe I could just murder it with a large bore power drill and get a prosthetic anus installed.
I went to a Vipassana meditation retreat for a week where you had to sit still on your ass for hours and hours and hours every day. The first day I wanted to violently attack every human being in my vicinity. Look at those shits, sitting peacefully on their stupid fucking meditation pillows. They have no idea I'm a raging nutcase barely holding on to my stillness by half an ass hair. By day two, I was hallucinating. By day three, I received waking visions of a rusted, filthy ten foot diameter pipe expelling fish at total capacity, but the pipe turned into an laughing Asian man's anus, still excreting the same volume of fish. After the last day, I told everyone I hated them and I went home.
Then, for no apparent reason, I was fine. I have no idea when exactly or why it went away. It was like it never happened. All this time I thought I'd be shitting out a gigantic, mutant tapeworm, snapping at my buttcheeks, thrashing in the toilet water. But instead, it just vanished, just as mysteriously as it arrived.
Net, when you are on your game, nothing can get close to you. :lulz:
Asspain is temporary, and in a sense, slightly enjoyable.
I'm just here for shits and gigs and squirts.
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 07, 2014, 04:01:23 AM
Asspain is temporary, and in a sense, slightly enjoyable.
I'm just here for shits and gigs and squirts.
And to tell us about irresponsible Black parents, of course.
Pffffffffffttt!
Newbies, look up our early threads, I still think they're quite good.
You are in the minority.
Well, you know, if that's all he's got.
:thanks:
Hey WTF Roger, why can't I look at your old posts!
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 08, 2014, 05:38:33 AM
Hey WTF Roger, why can't I look at your old posts!
A lot of the old stuff got archived then wiped.
At least that's the story I'm sticking to.
Every post ever? That aint normal around here.
Fuck it man, I'm almost stupid enough to have my own pod cast. Almost.
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 14, 2014, 07:41:29 AM
Every post ever? That aint normal around here.
Fuck it man, I'm almost stupid enough to have my own pod cast. Almost.
Don't sell yourself short.
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 14, 2014, 07:41:29 AM
Every post ever? That aint normal around here.
Fuck it man, I'm almost stupid enough to have my own pod cast. Almost.
Don't ever let them tell you that you can't do it.
You're stupid enough for at least two podcsts in my eyes, CowAss.
(http://www.fugly.com/media/IMAGES/Random/never_give_up_on_your_stupid_stupid_dreams.jpg)
Was referring to the video type of Podcast, and the reason I would never do it is because of this forum.
Can't risk some crazy finding out my identity, coming to my house, and shitting on my drive way or stealing my remote or spraying something almost witty on the side of my house.
You seem to be implying that anyone would bother doing such things. And that someone would bother listening.
You're quite wrong. Twice.
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 15, 2014, 05:25:41 AM
Was referring to the video type of Podcast, and the reason I would never do it is because of this forum.
Can't risk some crazy finding out my identity, coming to my house, and shitting on my drive way or stealing my remote or spraying something almost witty on the side of my house.
You seem to have an inflated view of your own importance.
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 15, 2014, 05:25:41 AM
Was referring to the video type of Podcast, and the reason I would never do it is because of this forum.
Can't risk some crazy finding out my identity, coming to my house, and shitting on my drive way or stealing my remote or spraying something almost witty on the side of my house.
Don't worry, that's the kind of thing that only happens to Roger.
:lulz:
Quote from: Your Mom on September 15, 2014, 05:45:06 PM
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 15, 2014, 05:25:41 AM
Was referring to the video type of Podcast, and the reason I would never do it is because of this forum.
Can't risk some crazy finding out my identity, coming to my house, and shitting on my drive way or stealing my remote or spraying something almost witty on the side of my house.
Don't worry, that's the kind of thing that only happens to Roger.
Pffft, he wishes.
As for myself, I don't want to give the "Network" any ideas :eek:
Quote from: Dr. Cow Ass on September 05, 2014, 07:30:21 AM
Btw, if there is, then fuck the underground, action-oriented discordians. Compassion and Work is way fuckin harder than fun. Fun is Easy. So is moral relativism... easier than Work, that is.
Fuck the under ground discordians? Only if you provide the shovel.