Screaming Idiot posted:

Only if they want to see. Men and women and everything in between and beyond can enjoy a fine writing utensil.

Jedit posted:

He'd get sued by the company if he did. And yes, they do use that URL; it's one of the famous ones, along with Therapist Finder, Mole Station Nursery (they sell plants) and before they lost their sense of humour, Powergen Italia.

Ariong posted:

No, that state is only for people who use pennsyls.

Krankenstyle posted:

farbtoner.com

quote:

A historical reenactor (especially a US civil war reenactor) whose efforts at a historically accurate portrayal are, in the opinion of the speaker, inadequate. (For example, wearing a modern wristwatch with period costume.) The opposite of farb is "hard-core" (or hardcore), someone who is, in the opinion of the speaker, an "authenticity fanatic".

Sulla Faex posted:

Farb- is german for colour- so I imagine printer toner

is the english joke this definition of "farb"?


as i've never heard it before

Sulla Faex posted:

Farb- is german for colour- so I imagine printer toner

is the english joke this definition of "farb"?


as i've never heard it before

e: vv whoops

Sulla Faex posted:

Farb- is german for colour- so I imagine printer toner

is the english joke this definition of "farb"?


as i've never heard it before

e: vv whoops

Son of Sam-I-Am posted:

Time to send each and every one of you to the penitentiary.

Lobok posted:

I put the "ink" in "clonk"

Son of Sam-I-Am posted:

There, now it's a funny forums quote, you've arrived.

Lobok posted:

I put the "ink" in "clonk"

Honky Dong Country posted:

A sentry shakes the last drops of drog from an Old World plastic 2 liter bottle into his parched mouth. He didn't immediately swallow, savoring the moisture if not the flavor of the foul liquid. Nobody likes the stuff when they drink it. It left a sweetly metallic aftertaste wholly unique to that particular ration's variable blend of reclaimed water and precious little Mountain Dew. It never tasted the same from one week to the next but always served as a sorrowful reminder of how thirsty one gets waiting for the next drog ration. The sentry looked at his empty bottle and silently scolded himself for his lack of self control. It would be three days before he could refill his bottles. Thinking about what services he'd have to perform in the darker, more sinister corners of the city to get the drog he'd need to survive the week nearly brought the man to tears. He heaved a great sigh to clear his mind and reminded himself that it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to take up "challenges" to amuse the more fortunate citizens with drog to spare.

Placing the bottle into a ratty messenger bag with the flap missing, the sentry turned to look out across the killing fields stretching a half mile out from the walls in all directions from the city. It had been many years since that macabre crop of Redditors, Channers, and other assorted desperates of the internet was sewn. Even now after years of savage sandstorms large patches of desiccated corpses could be seen, having been exposed and picked over by the forced labor scavenger gangs. Once upon a time you just got a few hours' probation for minor violations of the community's laws. Now you get forced out into the killing fields in the gangs. But even that beat being cast out into the wastes forever to survive among the Banned.

The scavengers never found much, but occasionally they came back with a clutch of precious tools or more rarely some lucky soul would find some porn and earn his freedom from the scav gangs. One such gang was out there now making their way back to gate 69. They were trudging along slowly without a single goon showing the pep of a man who'd just found his ticket to freedom. Smiling a little, the sentry was glad that at least he wasn't one of those luckless bastards. Like many in the city, his current lot in life hardly matches with the skills he had in the Old World. Many don't manage to adapt and survive. The sentry himself had worked on computers, a precious resource now that were entirely consumed with keeping the lord of the city's decaying cybernetic body alive. With so few of them around and the internet dead, very few of his kind kept their jobs. He hated the long shifts on the walls and hated the gun he carried even more, but he was keenly aware that he was lucky to land such a relatively easy living. Seeing the scav gangs shuffle in and out of the city each day served as a constant reminder of his comparative fortune.

Gunfire snapped him out of his thoughts and soon several bullets stitched across the field about a hundred yards north of the scav gang. His comrades on the walls had spotted a group of the Banned. He was so surprised to see them that he didn't even discharge his own weapon. The scav gang broke into a run and didn't stop until they were pounding on the massive gate that was ponderously slow in opening so unexpectedly. Such was their fear of even seeing the fate of the Banned that they didn't even notice the outcasts scattering as soon as the sentries on the wall opened fire. With the Banned dispersed, the commotion died down but left a curious metallic scraping sound behind. The sentry moved forward and looked down over the walls to see the very base. There he found a lone outcast of the Banned, clad in nothing but furious red burns from either sun or sandstorm. There was a burrow open next to the foul creature that now lay uncovered. The little bastard must have slipped in close to dig his hiding place in the night and now with the outbreak of noise he had sprang forth. The madman was scraping at the mortar of a huge block with the shattered remains of a shopping mall katana that some fool thought he could skillfully use to fight his way into the city so many years ago.

The sentry leaned over the wall with his rifle and discharged a few rounds, all of which missed. The outcast jumped and immediately tried to throw his useless tool at the sentry. The weapon didn't come anywhere close but it startled the sentry enough for the little nude madman to scamper away from the walls. When he was about two hundred yards out, he stopped and started waving his arms and gyrating about. The sentry squinted and noticed that the outcast was helicoptering his sun-scorched dick at him.

"Stuuuuuupiiiiid Neeeeewbiiiiieeee!" came across on the wind and assailed his ears from the Banned, still gyrating madly.

"Gaaaaarbaaaaage Diiiiiiick!" he shouted back at the top of his lungs. He raised his rifle again and fired a few more inaccurate shots. The burned man turned and continued running off into the wastes, whooping and hollering like a lunatic.

The sentry immediately regretted his angry outburst as his throat began to burn even worse from the yelling than it already was from thirst. He wanted to groan, but suppressed it for fear of making the pain worse. He sighed again instead and tried not to think of the things he'll have to do in the coming nights to get enough drog to survive until the next ration. But at least he wasn't on the scav gangs, he thought, or one of the Banned. He thought of the little burned man waggling his penis at him on top of the walls and smirked a bit. Yes, at least he wasn't one of them out there.

Outrail posted:

I'm lowtax 'lord of the city''s cybernetic spine.

KOTEX GOD OF BLOOD posted:

if you read the novels youd know the spine automatically jacks lowtax off

Dareon posted:

Completely unrealistic, everyone knows goons are a roving horde that moves from subculture to subculture, stripping the flesh and tears from the unfortunate before moving on, their broken leader's body borne in a catafalque adorned with fiesta cats.

Jedit posted:

Something Awful is the precursor to the Imperium of Man and everyone knows it. Lowtax is the immortal Emperor, his body fuelled by the Patreon donations of a thousand psychos every day as he sits on the throne to which he has been confined since the betrayal of Warmaster Radium.

sebmojo posted:

Goons look upon the eye of terror, murmur hello ol friend

Neddy Seagoon posted:

4Chan is the Forces of Chaos.

Admiral Ray posted:

I live in the American Pizza Building on West 81st Street on the 11th floor. My name is Pizza Cheeseman. I’m 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself, and a balanced diet and a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I’ll put on an ice pack while eating my pepperoni bunches. I can eat a thousand now. After I remove the ice pack I use a wood-fired cleanser oven. In the shower I use a grease activated gel cleanser, then a marinara cashew body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating basil scrub. Then I apply an deep-dish facial masque which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no flour, because gluten dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye dough followed by a final mozzarella protective lotion. There is an idea of a Pizza Cheeseman. Some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me. Only a recipe. Something illusory. And though I can hide my cheese glaze, and you can shake my hand and feel stuffed crust gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense our baking styles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.

Best Bi Geek Squid posted:

waitress: "whoops! i dropped my monster female condom that I use for my magnum pussy"

boyfriend: "what delightful service. what is 20% of $31?"

Trouble Man posted:

I understand your problem. I have a morning ritual that I need to share with you. I call it "the terminator". First I crouch down in the shower in the classic "naked terminator traveling through time" pose. With my eyes closed I crouch there for a minute, visualizing either Arnold or the guy from the second movie (not the chick in the third one because that one sucked) and I start to hum the terminator theme. Then I slowly rise to a standing position and open my eyes. It helps me to proceed through my day as an emotionless, cyborg badass. The only problem is if the shower curtain sticks to my terminator leg. It ruins the fantasy.

cock hero flux posted:

does that make moot Horus?

doverhog posted:

Hey, guy, I'm a communist. Like a real one, not whatever you think I am. Also a wizard, like Alan Moore. Look him up.

doverhog posted:

More like, I worship a fictional snake, and cast spells by dedicating physical acts to metaphysical ideas.

*sorry for the derail, i'm done with it, apologies

Milo and POTUS posted:

Hey everybody this guys an expert on looking at children!

Creamed Cormp posted:

we already have enough mods though

sunken fleet posted:

I understand your problem. I have a morning ritual that I need to share with you. I call it "the terminator". First I crouch down in the shower in the classic "naked terminator traveling through time" pose. With my eyes closed I crouch there for a minute, visualizing either Arnold or the guy from the second movie (not the chick in the third one because that one sucked) and I start to hum the terminator theme. Then I slowly rise to a standing position and open my eyes. It helps me to proceed through my day as an emotionless, cyborg badass. The only problem is if the shower curtain sticks to my terminator leg. It ruins the fantasy.

jojoinnit posted:

Jerry Cotton posted:

Bibleman, Bibleman
Does everything a Bible can
Starts some wars
Wherever he's at
Intoxicates the proletariat
Oh gently caress, here comes the Bibleman

there wolf posted:

Facebook Aunt posted:

This seems like a really good passive security system. How is a burglar even going to find the valuable things in this?



e: You could have the Hope Diamond dangling from the ceiling on a string and no one will see it.