rock rock posted:

Can someone post a quote containing philosophical musings about the nature of doors and windows in D&D?

7c Nickel posted:

The thing you have to understand about the modern usage of "cuck" is that it's branched off via the whole "women are property" thing. So not only is your partner cheating on you being cucked, ANY WOMAN ANYWHERE being in a relationship with a black guy is being cucked. Because her vagina belongs to white men you see. Having to pay taxes is being cucked. Having to hold back your vile opinions in public is being cucked. I am entitled to everything forever and any abrogation of that right is trying to cuck me.

root beer posted:

Okay thread, drugs story time!

Around the end of October, my buddy Dak and I were talking about good alternatives to mushrooms that we could get massive quantities of, quickly - we had a group of friends (most of whom were/are military) all looking to trip and/or roll on some poo poo that wouldn't show up on a standard 5-panel. I had already given some 5-MeO-MiPT a test run on a much smaller sample group of experienced trippers (documented earlier in this thread), and we all had a great time. It seemed like a perfect fit, given the circumstances.

So, we order a gram from the same vendor as the first time. We receive the same product, and are happy with it.

Around 8PM, Dak and I roll to out to our buddy David's, who's hosting a small bonfire at his house in the middle of butt-gently caress Egypt, OR. There's a good 15 people or so hanging around - not a huge crowd by any means, but definitely a party.

Dak decides to be the trip sitter. He begins weighing out 10mg doses for newbs and 20mg for experienced trippers. We begin handing them out pre-dosed in capsules - with Dak keeping a close eye on the rest of the unweighed powder, probably about 750mg at this point.

We shoot the poo poo and wait about 20 minutes, and a pleasant high sets in. After about half an hour, David - who is a combat veteran that has done multiple overseas tours - is sitting on his couch with a tub of ice cream, giggling like a 5-year-old at Adventure Time; it was the happiest any of us had been since I met him 7 years ago, before he went to Afghanistan. It was unfettered happiness that he didn't even think himself capable of.

Some important notes about David:

1 - he is very large. Not fat, but about 6'3" and a good 250lbs at least
2 - he is trained in hand-to-hand combat, so he generally gets what he wants
3 - every time he is asked a direct question about the drug itself, he gets the biggest grin on his face and says "more of this feeling please" before devolving into a massive fit of giggles

Anyway, after watching David for about 10 minutes, I wander away to check out the bonfire with my girlfriend and a group outside who are just generally in the "rolling" phase and enjoying the feeling of the flames. We sit and stare at the fire, observing its gently shift hues while the cold October air and the heat of the fire each fight for dominance over half of our bodies.

This last for what feels like an eternity (in reality, about half an hour), before I hear a loud THWACK, followed by an "oh god drat it, David", followed by a childlike giggle from a fully grown-rear end man.

Myself and a few other people get up and run in to the house, and find the 7 or so people in the house sitting in what looks like a loving Al Pacino fever dream. Apparently, David and a buddy from his unit Tim had decided to play a round of baseball with a bag of flour when Dak was taking a poo poo.

Tim being from David's unit is important. Tim also desired more drugs. Remember this.

Dak, being the only sober person, sees it fit to start trying to clean up the mess. Naturally, he's pissed off as hell while doing so, and David and Tim are more than happy to try to "help", which mostly involved trying to make snow angels in the flour and loving with Dak. A couple other people half-heartedly attempt to help, but trip and wander off after a few minutes.

So, recap: Dak is angry and distracted, and two trained military personnel - trained to operate in tactical combat scenarios together, specifically - have physical access and are pushing him around. None of us thought about it cynically at the time, what with us being high as gently caress and all, but I digress.

Once the mess is "cleaned up" about 20 minutes later (that is to say, the flour on the floor was swept in to a giant pile in the corner of the kitchen ), David and Tim return to watching Adventure Time. David offers to break out some beers, very dark and bitter IPAs, which Dak is more than happy to allow - he figured no harm in having one or two, and neither did any of us. At this point, he really deserves it anyway.

David grabs us all some beers, and he, myself, my girlfriend, Tim, Dak, and two other friends (Johnny and Kyle) all hang out and watch the show in peace - barring random giggles - and then the "trippy" phase of the drug starts to hit.

If you don't know, 5-MeO-MiPT in particular tends to have two "stages": the first is more of a roll, and the second is a varyingly hard trip depending on dose that kicks in after about an hour or so.

The TV starts losing its framing bounds, sound pitches change slightly, and a very deep psychedelic headspace starts to set in. It's pleasant for a little while, before Dak suddenly stands up with a horrified look on his face and goes "WHOOOAAAAAH" and starts rocking back and forth slightly. He then starts giggling uncontrollably.

The giggles turn in to full-on laughter and his face starts turning red. At this point, David starts giggling too, after having been noticeably silent compared to before the beers. We all suddenly start realizing that he brought us drinks kitchen, without supervision, with all of the bottle caps removed already. Johnny looks at David, and asks, "Dude, did you loving dose his beer?"

"No," David chokes out through giggles.

"I dosed EVERYBODY'S beer!"

He pulls out the baggy of 5-MeO from his pocket, holds it up and flicks it, giggling ever harder. About a quarter of what was remaining before was gone - about 200mg - divided between 7 people. I estimate that he dosed us all with roughly 30mg more. He himself had taken an extra 20mg on top of that, for a whopping 60mg total in his system.

My heart drops in to my stomach like a loving seismic event. My girlfriend gives me a horrified look and starts hyperventilating slightly. Johnny and Kyle immediately stand up and start pacing, jumping back and forth between pure terror and wanting to beat David's poo poo in, but even tripping ballsack they know that's a very, very bad idea. So, they refrain and just start screaming at him. The giggles start getting harder and harder, almost to a manic point. Then they start giggling too.

He tosses the baggy back at Dak, who's still losing his poo poo on the floor.

Now, I had done the initial research on the drug to be the authority of information for anyone who wanted to do it. Contrary to what this story might suggest, I believe strongly in harm reduction and doing drugs responsibly. Therefore, I knew full well that there were fairly scant records of people doing more than about 30mg, and those that had basically fried themselves stupid. I start panicking and feeling awfully responsible for the whole situation.

"Guys," I say, feeling an insidious desire to laugh start hitting me, "we really need to get someone sober here right the gently caress now."

Johnny manages to get David's roommate Jerry on the phone (who was working late - he was also a former army medic), and explains the situation and what drug we're on to him. Jerry rushes home, and I remember taking one last look at Johnny right as he hung up the phone. Colors started blending, my body started feeling slightly numb, tracers went from mild to hyperspace like loving Star Wars...

And then I was gone.

There was no concept of space, time, reality, perception, concept of individuality - absolutely nothing. I did not know who I was. I did not know what I was. I did not know what concepts like "who" or "what" or "I" or "you" meant. It was as if I was newly-born child, not having any point of reference for what everything around me was. All the while, the visuals had distorted everything to such a degree that I could hardly discern individual objects - I could only tell the difference between inanimate and animate. Not necessarily moving, but whether or not it was alive.

These are the last comprehensible thoughts that I am able to reflect on; the rest of the night was overload to a degree I will never get back.

What felt like an eternity and no time at all passed, and next thing we knew, we were all waking up. It was daylight.

Side note: It's odd to have two conflicting wildly different feelings about how much time has passed without a single memory to try to use as point of reference. Time dilation is nothing new to an experienced tripper, but this was different.

Jerry brings us all cups of coffee, surprised that we're all awake so soon. A quick scan of the house indicates that nearly everything had been at the very least slightly broken, if not completely destroyed. Flour was covering us and a large majority of the house still.

Jerry tells us that it's about 6PM. Everyone else had gone. We had not only tripped all that night, but all through the next day, and then started dropping off like flies around 2-3PM. If I'm doing my math right, that's about 16-18 hours of solid loving tripping. On a drug that lasts like 4 hours normally, if that.

The following events are as recounted by Jerry, who wasn't highly keen on recounting everything in detail, with parts from Jeff who Jerry called later:

For the first four hours, we all laughed to the point of near dehydration. He said he drat near called an ambulance on our asses for fear that we would die from it, but decided better of it because we all seemed plenty active and capable of speaking / drinking water fine in spite of the giggle fits. I don't mean to imply irresponsibility in this regard - he was prepared to call an ambulance the second something looked truly bad - but he figured it would be better than alerting police to a house filled with tripping military personnel.

We became raw, as he put it. Running off of pure instinct. We appeared as animals in a new place - that is to say, we all had the innate curiosity that led us to destroy just about everything inanimate we could get our hands on, simply trying to make sense of it all, but we did not acknowledge a single other living person around us the entire time. Lost, empty minds. It was around then that Jerry locked the house down and called in Jeff and Alex, a couple of (extremely understanding) friends to keep us regulated, which ended up being a really good idea - he hadn't planned for us still tripping when he needed to work the next day. This lasted approximately 10 of the hours.

After this, we all went through a phase of deep emotion where we cried and mumbled nonsensically at one another before curling up in our respective parts of the house, crying, mumbling nonsense, or simply rocking back and forth gently waiting for sweet sweet sleep.

Needless to say, we were all loving livid at David and Tim. David was a wreck, apologizing profusely and crying, saying he didn't know what came over him, just that he knew that it made him feel so loving good for the first time since before he went overseas. It seemed so pure and good to him, that overdose didn't cross his mind - he wanted more of the happy, and wanted us all to have it too. Tim was roughly in the same shape.

They confirmed our suspicions about how they got the drug: the bag of flower was the most clever ploy they could come up with to find a way to get in to Dak's pocket without him noticing. They planned under the assumption he'd try to clean it, manipulative fuckers.

After a couple hours of hashing poo poo out in a very emotional state, my girlfriend and I took off and went home. We slept for about 30 hours after that.

Dak's still not happy with them. I don't think he ever will be. David and myself are on mostly okay terms now, but we don't really hang out anymore. I start tripping out every time I stand in his house now

So, lesson here... I don't loving know, but I sure as hell don't feel like doing drugs with anyone else, ever again? Especially not loving war veterans?

Okay, there's the lesson: don't give a war veteran research chemicals.

I dunno. gently caress it. Smoke weed.

EDIT: and since someone's bound to ask - no, we don't know where the remainder of the drugs ended up. Some of it ended up in their salt shaker, but that's a different story for a different post.

Your Gay Uncle posted:

I really don't appreciate these holocaust jokes, my grandfather died at Auschwitz.


He fell out of a guard tower and broke his neck.

Peachstapler posted:

I just read that Rubio stated at today's rally that he will get rid of mosquitos "once and for all".

neonnoodle posted:

Well yeah that's spanish for mosque

Jaweeeblop posted:

While your grandfathers were dying in the classic funny ways at concentration camp my grandfather was in Iceland and broke his leg skiing then got sent back stateside halfway through his tour of duty. There weren't any nazis in Iceland I don't even know why he was there

Your Gay Uncle posted:

I really don't appreciate these holocaust jokes, my grandfather died at Auschwitz.


He fell out of a guard tower and broke his neck.

Say Nothing posted:

Not funny. My Grandfather was a prisoner who really did die at Auschwitz.
A guard fell on him.

LORD OF BUTT posted:

I don't know if this has been posted already but holy gently caress

Darth123123 posted:

Who types that much for dope cred on this gay forum?

Wrath of the Bitch King posted:

I'm pretty sure it's just where I work. Either that or behind the scenes a lot of churches are just hosed up.

Here's a story:

The church I work for is very into pageants and theatrical stuff. They'll have plays with the thematic subtlety of a sledgehammer, usually centering around or at least alluding to going to hell.
Personally I find some of the stuff they put out there fairly objectionable but I won't derail the thread with that kind of a powder-keg. Just to preface, I'm not going to inject my personal opinion of the subject matter into any of what follows, i'm merely presenting what happened. The gist of the play they want to put on is thus:

There's a young, attractive woman riding in a cab. The devil (literally) decides to hop in shotgun next to the cab driver and "orders" him to force himself on the girl. The girl is horrified, the terrible act happens, and the cab driver somehow gets away scott free after doing the Devil's work. As if it wasn't horrible enough the woman gets pregnant and has recurring nightmares about fire and brimstone whenever she seriously thinks about abortion, so she's effectively guilted into having the kid. She has the kid, gives it up for adoption, and life continues but she can't live with the guilt of abandoning her child. She gets into drugs and ODs, which counts as suicide, which means she goes to hell. The intent is to show this on a Sunday afternoon to a mixed age audience.

So the powers that be approach me and my boss about something they want to do: they want to set the lady playing the poor woman mentioned above on fire as part of the show. Instantly the word NO launches itself from my face before the conversation really begins in earnest, but that just means I'm ignored from that point on and it's a conversation between my boss and the pastor. To this day I'm thankful for how level-headed my boss is; there have been a number of times where I've nearly lost it over stupid bullshit at this place, and setting a lady on fire as part of an act definitely ranks up there. Like most people in this place, the "actress" is a volunteer.

They're talking about this while I'm red-faced and fuming and the Head Pastor is very animatedly pontificating on kevlar and fireproof dresses and such. Clearly not anyone I want messing with pyrotechnics. My boss is completely on my side and is having almost as hard a time as I am keeping it together, but he's a veteran. He's been in this crazy trench waaaaaaay longer than I have, so he knows how to speak the lingo. My boss pretends to do the speaking in tongues bit and walks off, waving back at me and the pastor saying he'll need to think on it. A minute later my phone starts to buzz and I know that's my cue to head back to the office with him.

I get back there and I unload. They HAD to hear me screaming, they just had to, but to this day I've never heard a single word about any of it. My boss looks at me and tells me, "Look, they're going to go ahead with whatever stupidity it is they're planning. The best we can hope to do is minimize the impact. Once <pastor name> gets an idea in his head he's going to run with it no matter how negligent it is."

We talk for a while longer and get into a creative groove. I had the idea, but he put the finishing touches on it: instead of setting the girl on fire we'd use her high heels as a form of symbolism. It'd be easy enough to rig something together that would set them on fire with a switch of some kind, and we had the time to plan it so it wasn't a rush job. We ordered one of those fire starter kits that magicians use and had our plan of attack in order.

The next day he presents the idea and the pastor loves it, but he wants a practical demonstration. We don't have any high heels and the pair being used for the show are the only ones they have, so we're charged with buying a pair ourselves so we can demonstrate. The pastor is a huge rear end in a top hat with regards to scheduling and making himself available for questions/concerns, so we know he'll only be around for maybe an hour before he vanishes into the darkness for a week. We break off from the pastor and make the quickest dash for PayLess shoes that a human has ever made, returning with these red sequined abominations. They're perfect.

It takes ten minutes or so to get everything prepped, but we get it done. The presentation goes off without a hitch and the ugly shoes are burning on stage on top of an industrial rubber mat. It's a slow burn too, which I thought was a nice touch if you're going for subtlety in how you present the theme (slow encroachment of sin, damnation is a gradual burn, that kind of thing). The head pastor sort of grunts at us and tells us it's good enough, but I can tell he's not super thrilled. Dude really wanted to set this poor lady on fire, I guess. We never got comped for the shoes OR the remote starter, either.

I'm not a member of the church, so I didn't see the production. I just work there. My boss though, he saw it, and the next time I saw him was a few hours after the show and he was obviously stricken. Something was wrong. "Yo dude, you alright? You look pale as hell."
He tells me that the higher-ups didn't think the shoes burning was obvious enough. The fire was too small, not evocative enough. So they doused the shoes in kerosene and set everything up the same way we had it otherwise. "Bitch King, walk out to the stage with me. It's easier to just show you."

We walk out and the left half of the stage is charred black. I'll never forget the sight of it: the piano they keep on stage had collapsed when one of the legs burned through, the electronics and lighting were all disabled since the damage was so extensive, and apparently they had a tough time getting the fire otu at all because all the fire extinguishers were expired and barely worked. Apparently, mid-fire, someone ran out to Wal-Mart and bought two of the cheap ones while the rest of the church battled the flames on the stage with faulty equipment. Thankfully nobody got hurt, but sitting there right in the middle of the stage were a pair of high heels, completely unblemished and untouched by the fire. Mocking the absurdity of it all. I'm told it burned for twenty minutes straight while people sat around waiting for Wal-Mart guy to get back, just doing their best to contain it somehow with the power of good intentions.

To this day I don't know what they did to gently caress up so badly, but I took it as a sign that maybe there is a dude up there punishing us for our stupidity. Just maybe. Needless to say there was a prayer drive the following week and the damages ended up repaired rather quickly. I'm still just thankful they didn't try to set some poor lady on fire. And to this day they still haven't updated all the fire extinguishers, just the ones around the stage.

Orkin Mang posted:

i was packing hamsters into bowling balls long before pokemon was even thought of

my wheelhouse posted:

It hought just loving random objects, slinkys, plastic bottles with wide-mouth holes, money-boxes and shoving things up my rear end was a normal way to practice sex. When by friend said it was only weird sex and I'm weird, well I only got hotter for other non pussy fuckable objects. Tryign to collect enough pubes to gently caress.

Dogfish posted:

Well if we're just gonna be telling dad jokes, have you heard the one about the three-legged dog?

Judge Schnoopy posted:

FIREFIREFIRE

The Lone Badger posted:

You're going to have to say which thread this is. Because I want to read it.

Zamboni_Rodeo posted:

The watermark says WikiHow. A Google reverse image search does not turn up a corresponding WikiHow entry. So now I'm left wondering, what is this demonstrating how to do?

sinon posted:

the great bill catsby

Fix posted:

When I read Scalia died I announced it to an American history teacher who happened to be sitting in my kitchen at the time and she said "who?"

Radish posted:

Well I bet she knows Scalia now that he's history.

ants on my cum rag posted:

There's a lot of hosed up and weird people, on this comedy forum website, who do not ever post jokes, do not enjoy jokes or indeed even laughing, and have coined a derogatory term for people who make jokes. They're all missionaries drawn here by the allure of the fertile lands of videos of a severely asthmatic man playing Megaman games, and interesting philosophical quandries posted by the fake PTSD guy about the nature of doors and windows in Dungeons and Dragons. They are wise men here to educate a savage, uneducated, indigenous sort. It is a sonorous, musical form of education; a greasy collective amasses on the front line of the battle against social injustice, the video game subforum on a message board that has a drop down menu that makes light of the holocaust on every single page, and sings a shrill harmony that permeates the very aether, making my pets feel unsafe, when a video game muscle man calls Catwoman a bitch. They have picked their battles well, and I note from my foxhole that I am running out of ammunition, chiefly in the form of the increasingly finite number of ways I can frame this absurd situation with the English language. I clench my fists and yell "anime" towards an uncaring, absent God, and swear solemnly to press my thumbs into Chocolate America's eyeballs until he is blinded, to directly emasculate sporting figures, to beat the poo poo out of tumblr users with baseball bats, and to quietly appreciate what Waylon Smithers being gay means to me.

Jaweeeblop posted:

While your grandfathers were dying in the classic funny ways at concentration camp my grandfather was in Iceland and broke his leg skiing then got sent back stateside halfway through his tour of duty. There weren't any nazis in Iceland I don't even know why he was there

ants on my cum rag posted:

There's a lot of hosed up and weird people, on this comedy forum website, who do not ever post jokes, do not enjoy jokes or indeed even laughing, and have coined a derogatory term for people who make jokes. They're all missionaries drawn here by the allure of the fertile lands of videos of a severely asthmatic man playing Megaman games, and interesting philosophical quandries posted by the fake PTSD guy about the nature of doors and windows in Dungeons and Dragons. They are wise men here to educate a savage, uneducated, indigenous sort. It is a sonorous, musical form of education; a greasy collective amasses on the front line of the battle against social injustice, the video game subforum on a message board that has a drop down menu that makes light of the holocaust on every single page, and sings a shrill harmony that permeates the very aether, making my pets feel unsafe, when a video game muscle man calls Catwoman a bitch. They have picked their battles well, and I note from my foxhole that I am running out of ammunition, chiefly in the form of the increasingly finite number of ways I can frame this absurd situation with the English language. I clench my fists and yell "anime" towards an uncaring, absent God, and swear solemnly to press my thumbs into Chocolate America's eyeballs until he is blinded, to directly emasculate sporting figures, to beat the poo poo out of tumblr users with baseball bats, and to quietly appreciate what Waylon Smithers being gay means to me.

Sleeveless posted:

I love this quote because what was once a scathing indictment of the GBS zeitgeist is now just supporting the status quo of a subforum full of humorless computer janitors hurtling towards middle age incapable of liking or making jokes about anything.

In terms of being an actual humor website, the only difference between idealistic young SJW Tumblrite D&D LF YCS Millennial white knight caremuch GBS and tryhard old bitter goku cuck fries lol just lol at the Xbone Star Citizen Doobie Dawgs Donald Trump Did Nothing Wrong GBS is that now it has a fraction of the previous members and even fewer people care about it.

FreudianSlippers posted:

Iceland was a hairsbreadth from having a Nazi king in WW2. If that had happened your granddad's visit to Iceland might have been more of a proper invasion.

Wanamingo posted:

Captain Invictus posted:

drat gurllll

AlphaKretin posted:

Click on Wrath of the Bitch King's name in the quote. You're welcome.

Although yes, you do, even though the quote is only tangentially relevant.

E: Eh I was gonna teach a man to fish but it's Re: A Ticket Came In (so, IT work bitching) in SHSC.

Sleeveless posted:

I love this quote because what was once a scathing indictment of the GBS zeitgeist is now just supporting the status quo of a subforum full of humorless computer janitors hurtling towards middle age incapable of liking or making jokes about anything.

In terms of being an actual humor website, the only difference between idealistic young SJW Tumblrite D&D LF YCS Millennial white knight caremuch GBS and tryhard old bitter goku cuck fries lol just lol at the Xbone Star Citizen Doobie Dawgs Donald Trump Did Nothing Wrong GBS is that now it has a fraction of the previous members and even fewer people care about it.

Sleeveless posted:

I love this quote because what was once a scathing indictment of the GBS zeitgeist is now just supporting the status quo of a subforum full of humorless computer janitors hurtling towards middle age incapable of liking or making jokes about anything.

In terms of being an actual humor website, the only difference between idealistic young SJW Tumblrite D&D LF YCS Millennial white knight caremuch GBS and tryhard old bitter goku cuck fries lol just lol at the Xbone Star Citizen Doobie Dawgs Donald Trump Did Nothing Wrong GBS is that now it has a fraction of the previous members and even fewer people care about it.

schnickety scribe posted:

I have the day off today! Yay! It's unbelievably chilly in the apartment, despite the thermostat being up, so I'm breaking out the heater. Screw the electricity bill, I've got my birdies to think of.

Also, Maestro is happily muttering to himself in the birdie cave he made under the blanket. He just said "hashtag." Lol wut, bird?

Oh hey, look. It's snowing.

Neddy Seagoon posted:

Your bird's just tweeting.

Intel&Sebastian posted:

I was just about to ask who the heck wants to buy diseased beef but then I remembered what country I live in.

Anosmoman posted:

To be fair who would want to eat an autistic cow?

Intel&Sebastian posted:

Idk about eating, but if you wanna see someone having one you're on the right forum.

Joementum posted:

I'm pretty mad that I was constantly busy all day on the day when we got a press release titled "Donald J. Trump's Response to the Pope".

DaNzA posted:

lol @ all those people letting the criminals getting away for some feel good values


also if you are not doing anything bad then it shouldn't affect you at all in the first place so who cares if they have all your data

Stux posted:

danza clips on his gov issued microphone as required every morning.

"ive got nothing to hide" he says aloud, letting his handler know he is a legal law abiding citizen. this may be a pain, but at least he is safe.

as he walks down the streets he looks at the cctv plastered on every building. it seems a bit intrusive, but at least he is safe.

"my passcode is 'anime69'", his state issued necklace blinks to confirm, allowing him to purcahse hsi loaf of bread. a lot of effort compared to how things used to be. the food shortages mean everyone must cut back, but at least he is safe.

as he walks into his job he scans his retina, fingerprint and steps into the mind scanner. some would think this unacceptable. not danza. he knows this is necessary to ensure the terrorists dont win. at least he is safe.

"thank god there are no crimina-" he is cut off. the scanner has detected bad thought. danza had foolishly entertained the idea of privacy in a dream the night before. it takes just a nanosecond for his corporeal form to become nothing but dissociated matter. his body will be recycled for future generations.

"thank u for your service" blares the loudspeaker "with your help we will win the war on Terror"

at least we are safe

Nolanar posted:

The whole post looks like someone hooked a markov chain generator up to reddit and filled in the gaps with pictures of stage hypnotists.

Vertical Lime posted:

https://twitter.com/susanslusser/status/700739586092183553

Tony Phillips posted:

What in the gently caress?

Black Bones posted:

While an exploitative system (old-timey or modern) programs us to accept superiority/inferiority designations out of necessity, any being that can think it's self around this basic programming proves it's not true. See R2-D2, Jesus of Nazareth, Karl Marx, etc.

Top Bunk Wanker posted:

If there was a Jeb Bush gay scandal and he tried to explain it by saying he just accidentally tripped and fell mouth first on a guy's dick, I would have no problem believing that was what actually happened.

SuperMechagodzilla posted:

The moment I saw the police cars I just gave up, because I knew that this would not be the ghostbusters I'd been hoping for. I had anticipated something pure and good, but here was the darkness of police and moms, invading the special home I had created inside myself. I struggled to keep it out, held shut my eyes, but the punishing waves of the inception noise crashed against my walls. I was left shaken.

The moment I saw the police cars in the ghostbusters trailer, I instinctively pictured myself beneath their wheels. I imagined that I was in a videogame, and that nothing mattered anymore. The system, over which I once had direct control, had been rebooted; all my power had been diverted towards dark moms and their police.

The moment I saw the police cars in the ghostbusters reboot trailer, I remembered 9/11. The police were there on that day as well, helping moms instead of me. Like those in the trailer, the real cars drove away to where I could never catch and embrace them. I picture a police car the size of a cat, and it is voiced by lorenzo music. I hold it so tight that it dissolves into me and warms my flesh. There's an energy... Of course this is only a fantasy; I will never have the soft fur of those small police in the space beneath my skin. Music is gone from me.

SuperMechagodzilla posted:

The moment I saw the police cars in the ghostbusters trailer, I could feel them already interrogating me, forcing me to admit to sexist thoughts. I could feel a coating of sweat appear on my body, and I imagined the liquids of every man in the nation were being collected into a massive and ominous vat - like an artificial lake. But I did not despair, as I soon found that I could manipulate these liquids my thought. The lake would writhe and bulge with tentacular formations. Structures would grow, collapse, and grow again. I saw that, with sufficient concentration, I could produce a cube, a sphere... I knew that the moms had harvested my liquids for a grimdark purpose, but this was my chance to resist. So I channeled all my energies into one powerful image, and a figure began to rise from the lake. Ten stories tall, with thick arms and wry smile, an incredible Dad stood up and made his way towards the shore. I could see the texture of his beige jumpsuit, and the thought of his penis gave comfort to me.