Weird people wander in, leer at you a bit, and then wander away, without saying a word.
Well, it's ALMOST like the Nashville bus station. If one of you mugs me in the bathroom while I'm taking a piss, then it will be spot on.
The floor is certainly sticky enough, anyway.
fuck you
^You don't get mugged, but you see this on the stall door.
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on January 07, 2012, 06:23:28 AM
fuck you
^You don't get mugged, but you see this on the stall door.
Yeah, there's always some sparkling wit that thinks that is required on every flat surface.
Been talking to - or trying to talk to - a few people here tonight, but they just wander away without answering, after looking at my post.
Building up a whole lot of hate tonight. Haven't done that in a while.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 07, 2012, 06:25:16 AM
Quote from: The Freeky of SCIENCE! on January 07, 2012, 06:23:28 AM
fuck you
^You don't get mugged, but you see this on the stall door.
Yeah, there's always some sparkling wit that thinks that is required on every flat surface.
Been talking to - or trying to talk to - a few people here tonight, but they just wander away without answering, after looking at my post.
Building up a whole lot of hate tonight. Haven't done that in a while.
Yeah, I know what you mean. It's like KILL A MOTHERFUCKER, but there are no motherfuckers to be had.
Funny, earlier tonight one of my friends said that the bus was like the internet, or that the internet was like a bus.
The interbus.
Explains the smell, at least.
Quote from: Nigel on January 07, 2012, 06:42:40 AM
Funny, earlier tonight one of my friends said that the bus was like the internet, or that the internet was like a bus.
The interbus.
Explains the smell, at least.
And the horrid stains with which you can divine the future.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 07, 2012, 06:43:14 AM
Quote from: Nigel on January 07, 2012, 06:42:40 AM
Funny, earlier tonight one of my friends said that the bus was like the internet, or that the internet was like a bus.
The interbus.
Explains the smell, at least.
And the horrid stains with which you can divine the future.
As well as the pointless shouting matches.
Quote from: Nigel on January 07, 2012, 06:45:19 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 07, 2012, 06:43:14 AM
Quote from: Nigel on January 07, 2012, 06:42:40 AM
Funny, earlier tonight one of my friends said that the bus was like the internet, or that the internet was like a bus.
The interbus.
Explains the smell, at least.
And the horrid stains with which you can divine the future.
As well as the pointless shouting matches.
Yeah, but I was the only one here, so even those kinda sucked. :lol:
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 07, 2012, 06:47:16 AM
Quote from: Nigel on January 07, 2012, 06:45:19 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 07, 2012, 06:43:14 AM
Quote from: Nigel on January 07, 2012, 06:42:40 AM
Funny, earlier tonight one of my friends said that the bus was like the internet, or that the internet was like a bus.
The interbus.
Explains the smell, at least.
And the horrid stains with which you can divine the future.
As well as the pointless shouting matches.
Yeah, but I was the only one here, so even those kinda sucked. :lol:
I hate this board on Friday nights, normally. This is the most fun it's been on a Friday night in months.
I got drug to some bar/arcade/OMGSOMANYHIPSTERS!!!!!!!!!, but I was wearing my hipster camouflage. Next time I shall do SCIENCE! to them.
Quote from: Don Coyote on January 07, 2012, 01:33:10 PM
I got drug to some bar/arcade/OMGSOMANYHIPSTERS!!!!!!!!!, but I was wearing my hipster camouflage. Next time I shall do SCIENCE! to them.
wow thank you for adding this new phrase to my lexicon.
i better dress real hip and use it to get some lulz before it's not cool anymore :lulz:
Quote from: LCS on January 08, 2012, 07:42:07 AM
Quote from: Don Coyote on January 07, 2012, 01:33:10 PM
I got drug to some bar/arcade/OMGSOMANYHIPSTERS!!!!!!!!!, but I was wearing my hipster camouflage. Next time I shall do SCIENCE! to them.
wow thank you for adding this new phrase to my lexicon.
i better dress real hip and use it to get some lulz before it's not cool anymore :lulz:
No, that beauty of it. You can continue to wear it after it's hip because of Irony, or you can just do what I did, stalk, trap and gut a hipster.
how insidious! they will never suspect it until it's too late. :evil:
Yeah, about that. So I'm still sitting in the bus station, and half of the other people are talking into their bloo-tuths or playing on their smrt phones, and the other half are avoiding eye contact. Can't blame them, really...It just isn't done to talk to strangers or do anything other than be srsly srs about whatever it is they're doing or wherever it is they're going.
It's the most crowded lonely place I've ever seen. I mean, these people are all stone freaks, and they look like they'd be fun as hell to party with, but they've all become trapped in their own individual little bus stations, and they're waiting. Waiting for just the right thing. Waiting for just the right topic. Waiting for something witty or profound to say, instead of just, "Hello", or "This vending machine coffee is utter SHIT, isn't it?"
But they don't, and pretty soon they start looking all weird. They don't have faces, anymore. Well, there's the memory of a face sort of superimposed over their feeding tubes, but it's not a proper face. It's just the test-blank from the factory. And they sit there with their blank faces, just sitting there quietly.
It would be tolerable if my bus would ever arrive, but it won't.
And so I wait.
Oh, and while I'm waiting, I leaf through some flyer that someone left. It doesn't make much sense to me, because it's full of incomprehensible jargon. I can't tell if it's supposed to be a subversive thing, or part of someone's PhD thesis in psychology. But it beats watching all the faceless zombies around me, so I read it.
And it still doesn't make any sense.
Once in a while, there's a completely distorted squawk from the loudspeakers, and some people get up and leave, while others arrive. I often worry that my bus has been called, and I missed it because I couldn't understand the announcement. It's probable, in fact. But as long as I have some quarters left, and the vending machine still has things in it, I guess I'll be okay.
But this place makes me wish for Cthulu or a big asteroid or Angry Jesus or a bunch of crazy Mayans.
You'd think a place like this would have doors leading out to the street, wouldn't you? But it doesn't. It just has arrivals and departures and a bathroom that finally described the word "squamous" to me in a manner that I could understand perfectly.
HEY, YOU BASTARDS! WAKE UP! WE ARE NOT CARGO, WE ARE...
...eh, nevermind.
So I take another piss. And sure as hell, right above the urinal, it says "FUCK YOU". That's above every urinal in the United States. It makes me wonder if it's one guy who travels a lot, or a secret society of misanthropes, or if maybe, JUST MAYBE, someone else with a face got so sick of screaming at the useless zombies in the terminal that they resorted to scrawling their hate above the toilet.
I wish I had a Sharpie. I'd like to elaborate on that "FUCK YOU".
*actual conversation in the Nashville bus station*
Fancy-hat: I'm gon down ta Nawlins, Where'm from. So you's jes' stick wit me. I know was gon on.
Mr. Marine: I have a buddy who's a police officer down there. Thinking about becoming one myself.
Fancy-hat: Thas good, thas good. I needs mo' frens like dat. I hep ya out gin a staht.
Mr. Marine: Really? I'd appreciate that.
Fancy-hat: Come get some coffee wit me, and we's talk it ovah. Jes' go 'head n' leave ya bag, heah.
Mr. Marine: Sure it will be alright?
Fancy-hat: *indicating Phox* This young lady keep it safe. We have the same hat.
FUCK YOU!
(I wrote this in Ariel)
FUCK YOU!
I hate you.
FUCK YOU!
I'm lonely.
FUCK YOU!
Mom always loved you best!
FUCK YOU!
I could have been a contender!
FUCK YOU!
This isn't MY future!
FUCK YOU!
Where did all the fucking passenger pigeons go!
FUCK YOU!
Look at you, sitting there like luggage, while you're completely surrounded by people!
FUCK YOU!
I paid money! Where is bus?
FUCK YOU!
I didn't sign up for THIS.
Quote from: Doktor M. Phox0 on January 09, 2012, 06:55:21 PM
*actual conversation in the Nashville bus station*
Fancy-hat: I'm gon down ta Nawlins, Where'm from. So you's jes' stick wit me. I know was gon on.
Mr. Marine: I have a buddy who's a police officer down there. Thinking about becoming one myself.
Fancy-hat: Thas good, thas good. I needs mo' frens like dat. I hep ya out gin a staht.
Mr. Marine: Really? I'd appreciate that.
Fancy-hat: Come get some coffee wit me, and we's talk it ovah. Jes' go 'head n' leave ya bag, heah.
Mr. Marine: Sure it will be alright?
Fancy-hat: *indicating Phox* This young lady keep it safe. We have the same hat.
You can usually trust someone in a fancy hat. Especially an inappropriately fancy hat.
It shows that they might still have a face.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 09, 2012, 06:44:59 PM
So I take another piss. And sure as hell, right above the urinal, it says "FUCK YOU". That's above every urinal in the United States. It makes me wonder if it's one guy who travels a lot, or a secret society of misanthropes, or if maybe, JUST MAYBE, someone else with a face got so sick of screaming at the useless zombies in the terminal that they resorted to scrawling their hate above the toilet.
I wish I had a Sharpie. I'd like to elaborate on that "FUCK YOU".
Wowwwwww
I have this paralyzing hint of a memory that says this wasn't always a bus station. It was something else, and then something happened, and now I'm surrounded by the victims of The Spider, alongside some evangelists who occasionally wander through and tell me about my Holy Guardian Angel and some other shit from some guy who thought he could talk to demons and dead people. Or maybe he used that as some kind of trick to fool himself into thinking, or something like that.
Well, at least they aren't Mormons. Mormons really get up my ass.
But the problem is, it's nothing but jargon ginned up to make it all seem profound or occult, when any damn fool could tell you THE SAME THING in PLAIN ENGLISH. But if they did that, it wouldn't make them SHAMANS, it would mean that they wouldn't have any sort of SECRET KNOWLEDGE KNOWN ONLY TO THE ADEPTS.
But in spite of - because of - this strange language they're speaking, nobody listens to them, and they eventually wander off, leaving me no more educated than I was before they arrived.
More squawking over the announcement. For a moment, it sounded hideous...Something about "All passengers traveling to reeducation camps" or something. But I probably just heard it wrong.
Well, time to get more coffee-like goo from the vending machine.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 09, 2012, 07:03:56 PM
Quote from: Doktor M. Phox0 on January 09, 2012, 06:55:21 PM
*actual conversation in the Nashville bus station*
Fancy-hat: I'm gon down ta Nawlins, Where'm from. So you's jes' stick wit me. I know was gon on.
Mr. Marine: I have a buddy who's a police officer down there. Thinking about becoming one myself.
Fancy-hat: Thas good, thas good. I needs mo' frens like dat. I hep ya out gin a staht.
Mr. Marine: Really? I'd appreciate that.
Fancy-hat: Come get some coffee wit me, and we's talk it ovah. Jes' go 'head n' leave ya bag, heah.
Mr. Marine: Sure it will be alright?
Fancy-hat: *indicating Phox* This young lady keep it safe. We have the same hat.
You can usually trust someone in a fancy hat. Especially an inappropriately fancy hat.
It shows that they might still have a face.
It was like 3 in the morning, and I had like a 2 hour wait. But I watched that bag for the whole 5 minutes they were walking up and getting coffee. Talked to them a little bit and they turned out to be alright. I don't remember what we talked about, specifically. But i remember that Mr. Marine mentioned that he had just gotten out of the Corps. He seemed like he was from North Somewhere, and I couldn't figure out why he wasn't heading that way. But I never asked.
Fancy-hat was a musician of some kind, and he apparently took the bus around the country as often as he could. He liked meeting new people and having conversations. He was very good at reading people, and also very good about making people comfortable around him. He never really said much about himself, but I got the feeling that he was a genuinely kind person, and wasn't putting up an act with his friendly demeanor.
That was probably the most pleasant part of the entire trip (ask Kai about why I will never ride a bus again). You know, I kind of wonder, now that it's six, seven months later, how things worked out for Mr. Marine. I wonder where Fancy-hat is now. Traveling from place to place, or staying at home in New Orleans? I'll probably never run into either of them ever again, but I do wonder what that fleeting contact meant to them.
Well, Phox, once I was sitting here, and some guy came up and started evangelizing to me.
"You live in a bucket of light-brown shit.", he said.
"Don't I know it, brother.", I replied.
"Well, I can help you with that. You have to dump dark brown shit into the bucket, to cancel out the light brown shit. Problem solved."
"But then I'll just have twice as much shit in the bucket."
"What are you?", he screamed, "Some kind of troublemaker?"
Then he stormed off, leaving me no more enlightened that I was in the first place.
(ETA: Parable explained upon request. It occurs to me that PILLZ HERE.)
I like this bus station.
Quote from: Nigel on January 09, 2012, 08:03:04 PM
I like this bus station.
Stick around. You'll like it so much you'll collapse screaming and clawing at the windows.
I'm the one who stole all the "Ts" and "Vs" off the pay-televisions...Just so you know.
Quote from: navkat on January 09, 2012, 09:30:46 PM
I'm the one who stole all the "Ts" and "Vs" off the pay-televisions...Just so you know.
"paeleisions"?
And a pile of plastic "Ts" and "Vs" on the floor, underneath the urinal where I am now playing. Won't you play with me, Rog? Won't you halp me make clothsies for my dollies out of potty-paper, Rog?
Quote from: navkat on January 09, 2012, 09:36:29 PM
And a pile of plastic "Ts" and "Vs" on the floor, underneath the urinal where I am now playing. Won't you play with me, Rog? Won't you halp me make clothsies for my dollies out of potty-paper, Rog?
I'd love to help, but I have an aversion to dolls. :lol:
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 09, 2012, 07:30:30 PM
Well, Phox, once I was sitting here, and some guy came up and started evangelizing to me.
"You live in a bucket of light-brown shit.", he said.
"Don't I know it, brother.", I replied.
"Well, I can help you with that. You have to dump dark brown shit into the bucket, to cancel out the light brown shit. Problem solved."
"But then I'll just have twice as much shit in the bucket."
"What are you?", he screamed, "Some kind of troublemaker?"
Then he stormed off, leaving me no more enlightened that I was in the first place.
(ETA: Parable explained upon request. It occurs to me that PILLZ HERE.)
Requesting. :)
My interpretation (which by no means should be thought of as speaking for TGRR) is as follows.
If you're dealing with something that is fairly confusing, you'll only make it worse by trying to explain it with something equally confusing.
OR
Using bullshit to explain bullshit only gives you twice as much bullshit.
OR
The amount of stuff you have to create from thin air in order to explain a phenomenon is inversely proportional to its effectiveness.
OR
Don't try to explain gravity by saying tiny angels are pulling things to the floor.
Something like that. Using bullshit like "sigils" to clear your mind is like drinking bourbon to sober up for the drive home.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 10, 2012, 04:18:05 PM
Something like that. Using bullshit like "sigils" to clear your mind is like drinking bourbon to sober up for the drive home.
So I should stop drawing sigils on the bar and charging them before driving home? :oops:
Quote from: Don Coyote on January 10, 2012, 05:42:30 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 10, 2012, 04:18:05 PM
Something like that. Using bullshit like "sigils" to clear your mind is like drinking bourbon to sober up for the drive home.
So I should stop drawing sigils on the bar and charging them before driving home? :oops:
If the bartender doesn't mind, I guess it's okay.
But wash your hands when you're done.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 10, 2012, 05:43:18 PM
Quote from: Don Coyote on January 10, 2012, 05:42:30 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 10, 2012, 04:18:05 PM
Something like that. Using bullshit like "sigils" to clear your mind is like drinking bourbon to sober up for the drive home.
So I should stop drawing sigils on the bar and charging them before driving home? :oops:
If the bartender doesn't mind, I guess it's okay.
But wash your hands when you're done.
I would use bourbon, but..um.....bad things happens.
The chicken is the one animal that Coyote does not fuck; for the chicken, he says, cannot return your love. I too am proud when I see a fellow Discordian's name in lights, whether it be on the marquee or the lethal injection list, one or the other (or both) will one day involve that pig-fucker's name.
Amen.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 10, 2012, 08:53:58 PM
The chicken is the one animal that Coyote does not fuck; for the chicken, he says, cannot return your love. I too am proud when I see a fellow Discordian's name in lights, whether it be on the marquee or the lethal injection list, one or the other (or both) will one day involve that pig-fucker's name.
Amen.
Whuuuuuuut?
Quote from: Don Coyote on January 10, 2012, 09:45:06 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 10, 2012, 08:53:58 PM
The chicken is the one animal that Coyote does not fuck; for the chicken, he says, cannot return your love. I too am proud when I see a fellow Discordian's name in lights, whether it be on the marquee or the lethal injection list, one or the other (or both) will one day involve that pig-fucker's name.
Amen.
Whuuuuuuut?
Dunno. Was channeling. PILLZ HERE.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 10, 2012, 09:47:04 PM
Quote from: Don Coyote on January 10, 2012, 09:45:06 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 10, 2012, 08:53:58 PM
The chicken is the one animal that Coyote does not fuck; for the chicken, he says, cannot return your love. I too am proud when I see a fellow Discordian's name in lights, whether it be on the marquee or the lethal injection list, one or the other (or both) will one day involve that pig-fucker's name.
Amen.
Whuuuuuuut?
Dunno. Was channeling. PILLZ HERE.
:lulz:
Quote from: Don Coyote on January 10, 2012, 09:49:04 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 10, 2012, 09:47:04 PM
Quote from: Don Coyote on January 10, 2012, 09:45:06 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 10, 2012, 08:53:58 PM
The chicken is the one animal that Coyote does not fuck; for the chicken, he says, cannot return your love. I too am proud when I see a fellow Discordian's name in lights, whether it be on the marquee or the lethal injection list, one or the other (or both) will one day involve that pig-fucker's name.
Amen.
Whuuuuuuut?
Dunno. Was channeling. PILLZ HERE.
:lulz:
It's the bus station, man. Nothing's right, here.
Scary thing about places like Bus Stations, you see people that you're CONVINCED you know, but if you walk up and say, "Hey, Jim! Long time, no see!", the person turns to you and it's NOT Jim, it just looked like him in profile. So you give a sick grin and say, "Um, whoops. Sorry. Thought you were someone else."
Then you go back to sitting in your plastic injection-moulded seat, with all the plastic injection-moulded people, and wonder, "Would the return of the Elder Gods really be all THAT bad a thing?"
I've slept in a bus station before. Pretty sure my head hasn't been screwed on quite straight since.
There are just some things your mind shouldnt subject you to, even if it is via a night of broken sleep, under those intense, annoying, entirely wrong lights they use. You know, the kinda glow that ain't entirely natural, it's a sickly yellow, not a white light. And it seeps in through your eyelids, no matter where you rest. Awake and asleep, awake and asleep. You can't get comfortable and no matter what you do, you're aware of that yellow light. Sometimes, in your dreams, it seems to go away for a minute, but only if you don't think about it. If you know it's gone, you're awake again.
Except that one time. The one time when I had woken up, but decided not to open my eyes. And I came to realise, with a tingle down the back of my neck, it was because someone was standing in the way of the light. Up real close to me, like. You know how you can kinda sense how someone is standing close to you? That feeling of presence, the change of air currents, the slight sounds they make as they move and breathe? Well, it was nothing like that.
And then, after a minute, that blasted yellow light flooded back in. And I opened my eyes, and the bus station was still empty.
Yeah, the hippies think places develop memories of events and then replay them. Supposedly, you're more likely to see those replays if you're tired or otherwise not hitting on all cylinders.
So a totally empty place can seem like it's full of people, until you pay attention.
Anyway, that's just what the hippies say, and they say all sorts of weird shit.
When I was about 6 years old, I had a nightmare. It was one of those nightmares that you remember for the rest of your life.
My father and I were out in the car, and we stopped at a store of some kind. He went in to get something - this was back in the days where leaving a kid in a car was no big deal - and while he was gone, the car started to roll away. More like drive away. I jumped behind the wheel to steer it, because I was old enough to know that it didn't steer itself.
It was kind of fun at first, it was the way a child would imagine driving a car. Constant speed, the other cars were all doing the same speed, etc.
But then I realized that I'd left my dad behind, that I didn't know how to turn around on the highway to go get him, and that with every passing second I was getting farther and farther away from him...Which is when the dream turned into a nightmare. No monsters or anything, just that I was getting further and further away from my father, and I couldn't do anything about it.
Don't know why I just remembered that. You remember funny things when you're sitting in a place like this.
So I'm sitting there, STILL WAITING, when along comes the dreaded Bus Station Loony. He's a familiar-looking guy, and he's wearing a piss & vomit-stained overcoat and bearing a sign saying "REPENT!" He comes up and jabbers at me for a while, about how it's all gone rotten and wrong and how we HAVE TO GET OUT OF THIS TRAP.
I stare at the wall, as do my fellow detainees of schedule, and eventually, the guy leaves. The rest of us exchange glances, and then give that collective small group laugh, you know, the one where you all agree that the guy was crazier than a shithouse rat and aren't we all glad we're not in that shape.
A while later, I go to the bathroom. After doing my business, I wash my hands and then splash a little water on my face. And then I look in the mirror, and I see the crazy bastard looking right back at me.
HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN IN THIS BUS STATION?
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 12, 2012, 07:07:51 PM
So I'm sitting there, STILL WAITING, when along comes the dreaded Bus Station Loony. He's a familiar-looking guy, and he's wearing a piss & vomit-stained overcoat and bearing a sign saying "REPENT!" He comes up and jabbers at me for a while, about how it's all gone rotten and wrong and how we HAVE TO GET OUT OF THIS TRAP.
I stare at the wall, as do my fellow detainees of schedule, and eventually, the guy leaves. The rest of us exchange glances, and then give that collective small group laugh, you know, the one where you all agree that the guy was crazier than a shithouse rat and aren't we all glad we're not in that shape.
A while later, I go to the bathroom. After doing my business, I wash my hands and then splash a little water on my face. And then I look in the mirror, and I see the crazy bastard looking right back at me.
HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN IN THIS BUS STATION?
Oooooooooh
Goddamn, that is exactly it, isn't it?
Yeah that installment made me go whoa..... Fuck me running also.
How many people never leave their agrarian, pastoral existences ever? They grow up in Mobile, AL, never leave Mobile, AL, root for "The Tide," mindlessly cheer the dropping of a fucking Moon Pie on NYE and scream "MOBILE ALABAMA IS THE GREATEST CITY ON EARTH" when they've never been past Pritchard.
Face it: You're going to have to accept being here sometimes if you want to take a bus anywhere.
Quote from: navkat on January 16, 2012, 05:20:35 PM
How many people never leave their agrarian, pastoral existences ever? They grow up in Mobile, AL, never leave Mobile, AL, root for "The Tide," mindlessly cheer the dropping of a fucking Moon Pie on NYE and scream "MOBILE ALABAMA IS THE GREATEST CITY ON EARTH" when they've never been past Pritchard.
Face it: You're going to have to accept being here sometimes if you want to take a bus anywhere.
Yeah, but sometimes you get stuck. Dr Suess wrote this great horror story for adults once, called
Oh, The Places You Will Go, which seems like a simple story book for children, until you get to the part about "the waiting place". Then it's all about trying not to scream in horror as you read to your child.
Which reminds me, I'm sure you've seen this:
http://youtu.be/ahv_1IS7SiE
It's a fucking trip Rog. And sometimes that trip includes sitting around in Richmond, VA, listening to an 80-year-old black man in an Army-green jacket talk to you for hours on end about everything from his late wife to the 60 different ways there are to prepare grits.
I just go into the bathroom and steal the Glade, spray it into a plastic bag and huff the fumes that rise to the top. Makes the wait a little more tingly in the crotchal area.
Quote from: navkat on January 16, 2012, 05:31:37 PM
It's a fucking trip Rog. And sometimes that trip includes sitting around in Richmond, VA, listening to an 80-year-old black man in an Army-green jacket talk to you for hours on end about everything from his late wife to the 60 different ways there are to prepare grits.
People like that are a national treasure, even if they can become a little annoying.
20 years later and I still remember him. <3
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 16, 2012, 05:33:29 PM
Quote from: navkat on January 16, 2012, 05:31:37 PM
It's a fucking trip Rog. And sometimes that trip includes sitting around in Richmond, VA, listening to an 80-year-old black man in an Army-green jacket talk to you for hours on end about everything from his late wife to the 60 different ways there are to prepare grits.
People like that are a national treasure, even if they can become a little annoying.
Would it surprise you I have yet to run into one of those?
Quote from: Don Coyote on January 16, 2012, 06:59:54 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 16, 2012, 05:33:29 PM
Quote from: navkat on January 16, 2012, 05:31:37 PM
It's a fucking trip Rog. And sometimes that trip includes sitting around in Richmond, VA, listening to an 80-year-old black man in an Army-green jacket talk to you for hours on end about everything from his late wife to the 60 different ways there are to prepare grits.
People like that are a national treasure, even if they can become a little annoying.
Would it surprise you I have yet to run into one of those?
Yes. Get out more.
Better yet: come to New Orleans.
Quote from: Don Coyote on January 16, 2012, 06:59:54 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 16, 2012, 05:33:29 PM
Quote from: navkat on January 16, 2012, 05:31:37 PM
It's a fucking trip Rog. And sometimes that trip includes sitting around in Richmond, VA, listening to an 80-year-old black man in an Army-green jacket talk to you for hours on end about everything from his late wife to the 60 different ways there are to prepare grits.
People like that are a national treasure, even if they can become a little annoying.
Would it surprise you I have yet to run into one of those?
My son and I spent 2 hours at the Tucson airport listening to a man who flew Mustangs over Europe in WWII. He was on his way to a reunion, as a matter of fact, of about 5 remaining pilots. It was kind of neat talking to a man who had helped keep the world a tolerable place to live in.
I spent an hour at the Mechanicsville bus stop in Bay Shore, NY when I was 18, listening to two yahoos who identified themselves only as "Saint Augustine" and "Coco Loco" ramble on drunkenly for hours about how you gotta love your woman.
EDIT: It was HOURS in an HOUR.
Doo bee doo bee doooooooooooo
Next time you go into a bus station or airport terminal, try to imagine the place being completely empty, with 1/8" of dust all over everything, a few chairs knocked over, some broken or cracked windows, etc.
Because one day, for some reason, it will look just like that.
Quote from: The Dead Reverend Roger on August 04, 2012, 06:10:58 PM
Doo bee doo bee doooooooooooo
Next time you go into a bus station or airport terminal, try to imagine the place being completely empty, with 1/8" of dust all over everything, a few chairs knocked over, some broken or cracked windows, etc.
Because one day, for some reason, it will look just like that.
:lulz: I always see everything like that. Sometimes it's hard for me to see anything the normal way.
Quote from: PROFOUNDLY RETARDED CHARLIE MANSON on August 04, 2012, 06:17:44 PM
Quote from: The Dead Reverend Roger on August 04, 2012, 06:10:58 PM
Doo bee doo bee doooooooooooo
Next time you go into a bus station or airport terminal, try to imagine the place being completely empty, with 1/8" of dust all over everything, a few chairs knocked over, some broken or cracked windows, etc.
Because one day, for some reason, it will look just like that.
:lulz: I always see everything like that. Sometimes it's hard for me to see anything the normal way.
So do I. Jenne says it's morbid as hell. I view it as a kind of optimism.
Quote from: The Dead Reverend Roger on August 04, 2012, 06:25:54 PM
Quote from: PROFOUNDLY RETARDED CHARLIE MANSON on August 04, 2012, 06:17:44 PM
Quote from: The Dead Reverend Roger on August 04, 2012, 06:10:58 PM
Doo bee doo bee doooooooooooo
Next time you go into a bus station or airport terminal, try to imagine the place being completely empty, with 1/8" of dust all over everything, a few chairs knocked over, some broken or cracked windows, etc.
Because one day, for some reason, it will look just like that.
:lulz: I always see everything like that. Sometimes it's hard for me to see anything the normal way.
So do I. Jenne says it's morbid as hell. I view it as a kind of optimism.
Sometimes when I walk around cities, I imagine dodging chunks of concrete and plate glass from crumbling office towers. :lol:
I tend to imagine that kind of decay spreading further through town ('cause like an eighth of downtown already looks like that) when I'm wandering around, too. Boarded up windows and doors, broken glass on the side walk, and all the houses collapsing inward.
Quote from: Secret Agent GARBO on August 04, 2012, 07:58:20 PM
I tend to imagine that kind of decay spreading further through town ('cause like an eighth of downtown already looks like that) when I'm wandering around, too. Boarded up windows and doors, broken glass on the side walk, and all the houses collapsing inward.
I do that sometimes. And then I think, "DAMN! I missed it!"
And then I'm all pissed off.
Quote from: Dirty Old Uncle Roger on August 04, 2012, 06:25:54 PM
Quote from: PROFOUNDLY RETARDED CHARLIE MANSON on August 04, 2012, 06:17:44 PM
Quote from: The Dead Reverend Roger on August 04, 2012, 06:10:58 PM
Doo bee doo bee doooooooooooo
Next time you go into a bus station or airport terminal, try to imagine the place being completely empty, with 1/8" of dust all over everything, a few chairs knocked over, some broken or cracked windows, etc.
Because one day, for some reason, it will look just like that.
:lulz: I always see everything like that. Sometimes it's hard for me to see anything the normal way.
So do I. Jenne says it's morbid as hell. I view it as a kind of optimism.
As far as I can tell, it is.