Slow Motion posted:

Last night I had a dream. It was raining in Seattle and I was standing outside my favorite bar with a view of the skyline looking down the street. The rain was falling from puffy white clouds and yet between the clouds the sun was shining bright.

The raindrops started splashing apart above the cement. First just a smidgen above it. Pop pop pop. And then raising up to my eye level they exploded into ever bigger bursts of mist and water. Into the sky they went. By the time they reached the clouds the explosions were like the black smoke of flak guns I've seen in monochrome war documentaries.

The sky darkened and the sun was lost. But just for a moment. In the blink of an eye the darkness winked out of existence and the world was bright with sunshine again. But now the air was full of the most spectacular objects.

Parchment colored balloons were lazily floating up. Spaced out like pedestrians on a sidewalk and occupying every available bit of atmosphere. They were inside bus stop shelters and between skyscrapers.

When I looked closer I could see their true nature. Each one was a hot air balloon no bigger and a basketball. And hanging below where a wicker basket might be carrying an intrepid explorer was instead a copper domed bird cage. And in each cage was a different exotic bird; vibrant plumage of greens and yellows and blues awkwardly pushing out past the undersized cages.

Slow Motion posted:

Last night I had a dream. It was raining in Seattle and I was standing outside my favorite bar with a view of the skyline looking down the street. The rain was falling from puffy white clouds and yet between the clouds the sun was shining bright.

The raindrops started splashing apart above the cement. First just a smidgen above it. Pop pop pop. And then raising up to my eye level they exploded into ever bigger bursts of mist and water. Into the sky they went. By the time they reached the clouds the explosions were like the black smoke of flak guns I've seen in monochrome war documentaries.

The sky darkened and the sun was lost. But just for a moment. In the blink of an eye the darkness winked out of existence and the world was bright with sunshine again. But now the air was full of the most spectacular objects.

Parchment colored balloons were lazily floating up. Spaced out like pedestrians on a sidewalk and occupying every available bit of atmosphere. They were inside bus stop shelters and between skyscrapers.

When I looked closer I could see their true nature. Each one was a hot air balloon no bigger and a basketball. And hanging below where a wicker basket might be carrying an intrepid explorer was instead a copper domed bird cage. And in each cage was a different exotic bird; vibrant plumage of greens and yellows and blues awkwardly pushing out past the undersized cages.

PCjr sidecar posted:

... and all the mods and bfc allstars will look up and shout "Save money!"... and I'll look down and whisper "No." 

PCjr sidecar posted:

... and all the mods and bfc allstars will look up and shout "Save money!"... and I'll look down and whisper "No." 

Slow Motion posted:

faaaaaaaart

Slow Motion posted:

Income is money that people give to me for various reasons drugs.

Thesoro posted:

faaaaart

laxbro posted:

Slomo has BFC wrapped around his finger. Slomo has migrated over to TCC because you dorks are too boring.

laxbro posted:

Slomo has BFC wrapped around his finger. Slomo has migrated over to TCC because you dorks are too boring.

Slow Motion posted:

Last night I had a dream. It was raining in Seattle and I was standing outside my favorite bar with a view of the skyline looking down the street. The rain was falling from puffy white clouds and yet between the clouds the sun was shining bright.

The raindrops started splashing apart above the cement. First just a smidgen above it. Pop pop pop. And then raising up to my eye level they exploded into ever bigger bursts of mist and water. Into the sky they went. By the time they reached the clouds the explosions were like the black smoke of flak guns I've seen in monochrome war documentaries.

The sky darkened and the sun was lost. But just for a moment. In the blink of an eye the darkness winked out of existence and the world was bright with sunshine again. But now the air was full of the most spectacular objects.

Parchment colored balloons were lazily floating up. Spaced out like pedestrians on a sidewalk and occupying every available bit of atmosphere. They were inside bus stop shelters and between skyscrapers.

When I looked closer I could see their true nature. Each one was a hot air balloon no bigger and a basketball. And hanging below where a wicker basket might be carrying an intrepid explorer was instead a copper domed bird cage. And in each cage was a different exotic bird; vibrant plumage of greens and yellows and blues awkwardly pushing out past the undersized cages.

Bisty Q. posted:

yeahhhh drugs are baller am i right???

Centripital Horse posted:

Mocking Bird posted:

My God. It's so beautiful. I feel like if I look away I will be forever scorned for my pride in thinking there was something else worth looking at.

quote:

Reaching into the bowl next to his recliner, Slow Motion grabs a handful of $5 bills which he ignites with his 18k gold Zippo, and uses to light the cigar. A year ago, he was using $20 bills. Thank God for BFC.

moana posted:

Banzai 3 posted:

Best page of the entire thread, right here.

Devian666 posted:

You're right. SloMo hasn't posted at all this page.

IllegallySober posted:

Shut it down and goldmine it. We're done here.

IllegallySober posted:

Shut it down and goldmine it. We're done here.

axeil posted:

I enjoyed that post.

Centripetal Horse posted:

Slow Motion steps into the foyer of his penthouse suite and hands his bespoke Zegna suit jacket to his manservant, Jeeves. Jeeves isn't really the guy's name. Slow motion thinks Jeeves' name might be Hector, but that's not a very baller name. Crossing to the massive open-plan kitchen, Slow Motion reaches for the bottle of Macallan 1939 sitting on the shelf of his solid ebony bar. The 1939 is good, but Slow Motion feels that he has outgrown it. He's probably going to upgrade, soon, perhaps to a bottle of Glenfiddich 50-year-old. Maybe he'll give the rest of the 1939 to Horace, or whatever his name is. Giving away $10,000 bottles of liquor is pretty baller.

Slow Motion is feeling good. He's been feeling good a lot, lately, ever since he got his finances under control with the help of BFC. Slow Motion has been rocketing through his career, rocketing through tax brackets, and rocketing through life. He is billing hours like crazy, his investments are running wild, and he just got a glowing review at work, with a big raise, and the promise of rapid advancement in the coming year. He owes the posters of BFC a debt of gratitude he knows he can never repay. So many people on that forum shared their advice, their knowledge, and their experiences, and asked nothing in return. Beyond mere finance, they addressed emotional and interpersonal issues that Slow Motion hadn't even been aware of. He knows that without the people of BFC, his life would have continued to spiral into a quagmire of debt, stress, and failure. Figuratively, and maybe literally, BFC saved his life. Yet, where gratitude should be, Slow Motion finds only contempt. More and more, as the trappings of success begin to ring hollow, Slow Motion's only real joy in life comes from trolling and manipulating those ants in BFC. Slow Motion isn't sure why this is, but there's no space for "introspection" on his emotional budget, so he just accepts it and enjoys the game.

Stopping at the end of his kitchen island, Slow Motion sees six laser-straight rails of coke gleaming white against the dark zinc countertop. Good old Jeeves. Picking up the gold straw from next to the lines, Slow Motion snorts only three of them. Moderation is one of the lessons BFC has taught him. Slomo needs the pick-me-up, because today's the day. According to his calculations, he has allowed the perfect amount of time to pass since the "hobby" incident. It's time to throw some more chum in the water. Walking toward his media room, Slow Motion stops in the middle of his living area and does a little pirouette, admiring the feeling of the Pyrolave flooring under his Ferragamo loafers. The floor is literally lava. How loving baller is that?

In his media room, Slow Motion settles into his plush leather recliner. On his stainless steel Lamberti Onda C desk, Slow Motion jiggles his mouse. The massive 4k monitor springs to life. The thing cost him $15k, but it has a brightness of 500 cd/m^2, whatever that means. Slow Motion finds himself staring at the familiar layout of BFC, and scrolls to his own thread. For over a year, he has been under-reporting his billed hours, over-reporting his opera expenses, and doing his best to keep everyone believing that maybe, just maybe, he's on the verge of a breakthrough. Those tactics are getting stale, though, and Slow Motion doesn't want to take a step back after the runaway success of the hobby line-item. It took him a while, but he's pretty sure he's got the perfect way to up the ante. As he's catching up on the latest from the poindexters in BFC, Slomo catches movement from the corner of his eye. Standing in the doorway is a statuesque brunette. Six feet tall and stacked, her name is Linda, or maybe Lola. She's his favorite escort from the high-end shop downtown. He'd been wasting time and money having her come and go nearly every day, so now he just pays the weekly rate. Putting Lucy on retainer was both baller and budget-friendly. BFC would definitely approve.

It takes only a few minutes of cocaine-enhanced skimming to absorb all the frustration and anger he's generated since his last visit. Post counts don't lie. They pretend they don't care, but Slow Motion knows better. He's played his part beautifully, and he knows many of the BFCers are emotionally invested. He can prey on that investment. Investment is another thing BFC has taught him the value of, but not in the way they thought. Hitting reply, Slow Motion types: "Well the debt is a thing where I have to give it money and I don't get anything for that money."

Leaning back, Slow Motion mumbles, "The Jedi are gonna feel that one." The brunette moves to his side, and Slow Motion accepts the Gurkha Black Dragon she proffers. Looking up at her, Slow Motion smiles broadly, revealing a platinum grill with "DEBT FREE" spelled out in diamonds. Reaching into the bowl next to his recliner, Slow Motion grabs a handful of $5 bills which he ignites with his 18k gold Zippo, and uses to light the cigar. A year ago, he was using $20 bills. Thank God for BFC.

moana posted:

blah_blah posted:

Christmas came early this year.