GODSPEED JOHN GLENN posted:

every day she screams this phase into the ether. her voice emanating from this house only to get lost in the void. knick knacks knocked off of shelves, umbrella stand tumbles onto the floor and I say nothing. I do not even look in her direction. "we gonna ignore the fact that i've GOT A HUGE BOOTY," she screams again and again. the bookshelf has fallen over. Books are everywhere. I cannot acknowledge it. I MUST ignore the fact that she GOT A HUGE BOOTY. Such is the Orphean deal that I have made with the gods. We no longer share a bed, There is no longer any room for me, but I can never utter why. I MUSE ignore the fact that SHE GOT A BIG BOOTY else all i will be lost. Is a life where all I can do is ignore the face that sheGOT A BIG BOOTY even worth living? But the question is moot, as I am bound by duty and divine contract and I am a man of honor.

Luvcow posted:

Luvcow posted:

deep dish peat moss posted:

https://vocaroo.com/i/s1wIw5js9hht

deep dish peat moss posted:

https://vocaroo.com/i/s1wIw5js9hht

Goons Are Great posted:

Oh my God, it's a masterpiece

Heather Papps posted:

Good afternoon, my name is Heather Papps, and I am here to tell you my story.
I was cut from the belly of a hanged woman, forged in the fires of an armory, strengthened unto iron.
I am here, to say hello to my friends, my family, and everyone.
I love you.
We, BYOB, love you.
You are good.
You are smart.
You are funny.
You are valid.
We love you.
Come home, friend.
Let us chill together.
There are hammocks a plenty, and the color scheme is oh so nice.
You'll like it. You'll have a good time, like me, your friend in life and posting, Heather Papps.
I love you thank you goodnight.

Heather Papps posted:

Good afternoon, my name is Heather Papps, and I am here to tell you my story.
I was cut from the belly of a hanged woman, forged in the fires of an armory, strengthened unto iron.
I am here, to say hello to my friends, my family, and everyone.
I love you.
We, BYOB, love you.
You are good.
You are smart.
You are funny.
You are valid.
We love you.
Come home, friend.
Let us chill together.
There are hammocks a plenty, and the color scheme is oh so nice.
You'll like it. You'll have a good time, like me, your friend in life and posting, Heather Papps.
I love you thank you goodnight.

deep dish peat moss posted:

https://vocaroo.com/i/s1MJPYmSd98r

Manifisto posted:

a bad man wants to do bad things. the bad man can be stopped by throwing something away, but grownups can't be trusted to throw the thing away because they are very greedy and will keep the thing instead and use it for nasty grownup stuff. so it's up to some small basically children to go to the place to throw it away, and it's hard because almost everybody else in the world wants the thing, including another child who became really bad and ugly and not nice because he wanted the thing too much. there are also some really smart and friendly tall grownups who don't want the thing and sing a lot of songs. people wonder why the children didn't ride eagles to the place where they can throw the thing away, and actually nobody knows why they didn't ride the eagles, it would have been much faster.

Heather Papps posted:

This one would be good. How long is too long friend?

quote:

misty mountaintop posted:

Day 8: Woke up from a nightmare. In my dream, I died.

But that was the good part.

I felt myself ascend from my body, infused with a trembling lightness, like the air after a thunderstorm has moved on and the pressure lifts. I was headed up, not down, so I knew I had been a good girl. I kept the CheeseFaith.

Up I went, through wreaths of cloud until I reached the angels.

They were milling about, standing in groups, sitting with their heads in their hands, checking their phones. States of paralysis and despair. Some of them clutched objects close to their bodies, like holy relics.

I knew what those objects were. I didn't want to know what those objects were.

Still I floated, pulled by a helium string, past the angels, straight to the podium of St. Peter.

But it wasn't St. Peter. It was a hostess. Behind her I could see the familiar faux-Arabian interior I know so well.

She told me it would only be 45 minutes.

Dear Diary, the angels were clutching buzzers.

magic cactus posted:

"I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain. One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself, forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus with a HUGE BOOTY" -Albert Camus

Lil Swamp Booger Baby posted:

Aaah gently caress!! I scream as I clutch at my heart, the room is spinning, my vision is a smear of colors and bright exploding stars, I hear the muddled and drowned out din of smashing and clattering as my left arm flails and knocks over all the insulin in the pharmacy, I can hear the thudding footsteps of the pharmacy techs rushing over as my vision slowly fades to black and the world turns askew as my body hurtles towards the ground in slow motion.

I can feel everything slipping away, the last words I manage to utter before I pass out in a giant frothing pink pool of perforated Pepto Bismols is "Aaaah poo poo.... bro... my rear end too drat big and the suppositories can't fit.... between my cheeks..."

google THIS posted:

Sandtrooper: How long have you had dat HUGE BOOTY?
Luke Skywalker: About three or four seasons.
Ben Kenobi: You can touch it if you want to.
Sandtrooper: Let me see your HUGE BOOTY registration.
Ben Kenobi: (waving his hand slowly) You don't need to see his HUGE BOOTY registration.
Sandtrooper: [pauses] We don't need to see his HUGE BOOTY registration.
Ben Kenobi: This ain't the rear end you lookin' for.
Sandtrooper: Dat ain't the rear end we lookin' for.
Ben Kenobi: You gonna ignore the fact that he got a HUGE BOOTY.
Sandtrooper: We gonna ignore the fact that he got a HUGE BOOTY.
Ben Kenobi: Move that fine rear end along.
Sandtrooper: [gesturing] Move that fine rear end along! Move that fine rear end along!

Stoner Sloth posted:

This is the law of the BOOTYukon, and ever she makes it plain:
'Send not your weak and your foolish; send me your strong and your sane;
Strong for the HUGE rage of BOOTY; sane, for I harry them sore;
Send me me men girt for the combat, men who HUGE BOOTY ignore;

Heather Papps posted:

For the purposes of discussion, Richard Dawkins described seven "milestones" on his spectrum of booty believability:[5]

1 Strong theist. 100% probability that the booty exists. In the words of C.G. Jung: "I do not believe, I know."
2 De facto theist. Very high probability but short of 100%. "I don't know for certain, but I strongly believe in the huge booty and live my life on the assumption that itis there."
3 Leaning towards theism. Higher than 50% but not very high. "I am very uncertain, but I am inclined to believe in you have a huge booty."
4 Completely impartial. Exactly 50%. "your bootys largeness or smallness are exactly equiprobable."
5 Leaning towards atheism. Lower than 50% but not very low. "I do not know whether your booty is huge but I'm inclined to be skeptical."
6 De facto atheist. Very low probability, but short of zero. "I don't know for certain but I think your booty is very improbable, and I live my life on the assumption that it is not huge."
7 Strong atheist. "I know there is no huge booty, with the same conviction as Jung knows there is one."

Luvcow posted:

a good quote



one from the distant past:

Heather Papps posted:

This one would be good. How long is too long friend?

deep dish peat moss posted:

https://vocaroo.com/i/s0L5S63THSuR

Luvcow posted:

a good quote



one from the distant past:

Heather Papps posted:

This is a single thread. There is much gold to mine from here.

deep dish peat moss posted:

https://vocaroo.com/i/s0GQN9610uAz

quote:

Ring ding ding daa baa
Baa aramba baa bom baa barooumba
Wh-wha-what's going on-on?
Ding, ding
This is the Crazy Frog
Ding, ding
Bem, bem!
Ring ding ding ding ding ding
Ring ding ding ding bem bem bem
Ring ding ding ding ding ding
Ring ding ding ding baa baa
Ring ding ding ding ding ding
Ring ding ding ding bem bem bem
Ring ding ding ding ding ding
This is the Crazy Frog
Breakdown!
Ding, ding
Br-br-break it, br-break it
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
Bem, bem!
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
This is the Crazy Frog
A ram me ma bra ba bra bra rim bran
Dran drra ma mababa baabeeeaaaaaaa!
Ding, ding
This is the Crazy Frog
Ding, ding
Da, da
Ring ding ding ding ding ding
Ring ding ding ding bem bem bem
Ring ding ding ding ding ding
Ring ding ding ding baa baa
Ring ding ding ding ding ding
Ring ding ding ding bem bem bem
Ring ding ding ding ding ding
This is the Crazy Frog
Ding, ding
Br-br-break it, br-break it
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
Bem, bem!
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
Dum dum dumda dum dum dum
This is the Crazy Frog
Bem, bem!

Macnult posted:

a woman stands up on top of the bar. “everyone! i have an announcement to make: we are doing a scavenger hunt and i have to say this everywhere we go, but this is my best friend sarah and she is getting married!!!”

everyone starts clapping, me included. i’m so happy for sarah and her loud friend. i realize this is the perfect time for me to also make a special announcement. i stand up on my table. “everyone! i also have an announcement to make!” all of mellow mushroom’s patrons eagerly turn to look at me. “i eat rear end!”

happy faces turn to disgust and confusion. no one claps. i am asked to leave the establishment.

Macnult posted:

a woman stands up on top of the bar. “everyone! i have an announcement to make: we are doing a scavenger hunt and i have to say this everywhere we go, but this is my best friend sarah and she is getting married!!!”

everyone starts clapping, me included. i’m so happy for sarah and her loud friend. i realize this is the perfect time for me to also make a special announcement. i stand up on my table. “everyone! i also have an announcement to make!” all of mellow mushroom’s patrons eagerly turn to look at me. “i eat rear end!”

happy faces turn to disgust and confusion. no one claps. i am asked to leave the establishment.

Bonaventure posted:

When Torvus returned from the hunt with much meat, father greeted him and then praised the bear he had killed, did it homage, and poured out a flagon of mead before it. This is proper to assuage the vengeance of its ghost I admit; but did father praise Torvus' cunning, or Torvus' strength? How does father believe Torvus killed this bear -- magic? Behold, this is a joke -- we all know magic belongs to the sorcerers beyond the mountain. But father is rude. Father is always praising the meat, while neglecting the hunter who procures the meat.

Heather Papps posted:

when i burst forward screaming from my mother, my father hoisted me up, then severed the cord to womanhood with a swift swipe of a blade. then he thrust the sword into the earth, displayed my brooding visage to them and declared
THIS IS MY SON. I GIVE HIM NOT BUT MY STRENGTH OF BLOOD, MY CUNNING OF MIND, AND A BLADE THAT HE MAY TAKE ALL ELSE HE DESIRES

i was born a man. i suckled on fermented bears milk, drank fresh blood from the cows each morn. the birth had destroyed my mother, i have never known her face.
when i could grip, a dagger was my rattle, a shortsword my treasured friend. i knew nothing but battle. my father trained me, forged me into strongest iron until the day i could defeat him at any challenge. he had built me into a man without fear.

then the woman came to town. father did not shield me from her, warn me of her charms. she was a witch of the grey forest, and she bound me with sigils and signs. she cut my hair, and bound my heart in bands of steel i could not bend or break.

i hate my father. he taught me how to fight men, so that i would be powerless against women.

Bonaventure posted:

When the Southern King-- the one known as 'The Iron Hawk,' I mean-- came with his retinue to the gathering of clans, he brought his astrologers and magicians. I was suspicious of this, since magic is detestable to me and the sorcerers beyond the mountain are bad enough on their own. But father was overawed by them and their trickery.

These astrologers pretended to much knowledge concerning the movement of the heavens and how this directs the lives of men, and furthermore intimated that certain stones have the power of overruling the dictates of the sky. They demonstrated this with a black stone which attracted other, smaller stones onto itself.

I admit this was a marvel, but father demanded he possess this wondrous stone, and gave the astrologers seven head of cattle for it. Seven head of cattle! What is this stone, a comely wife? Surely not. Why then does father pay a dowry-price for it? And what has father done with this stone after paying so dearly for it? It sits on a table in his war-tent, gathering dust more eagerly than it ever did those smaller stones.

I could have used those seven head of cattle.

The Clowner posted:

tales will be sung years hence that it was father who beseiged the valleymen's fort to the north, plundered their keep and set fire upon it all. at the feast, they will say, he smelted their ill-gotten gold into a mighty greataxe which he then plunged, still white-hot, into the valleyman chief's skull, to the cheers of the warriors and the cold approval of the hierarchs, blessed be their wisdom. children will sing hymns of father's march to the western shores, how he tore the boatmen from their decadent triremes and galleons, how he fed the sea regent to his own pet sharks. future generations will know of his conquests of the southern wastes, and the eastern jungles, and beyond, resulting in the foretold fulfillment of prophesy: the ultimate union of the entire continent under his banner, at the behest of the hierarchs, blessed be their wisdom. but, I say this to you, the songs will fall silent on his weaknesses, his ineptitudes, his failures. to protect the faith, our children's children will not sing of father's greatest embarrassment: maining chrom in super smash brothers ultimate like an unwashed tier-whore

deep dish peat moss posted:

My neighbors must think I'm really weird

https://vocaroo.com/i/s1tEgVx7DHsJ

Heather Papps posted:

The Clowner posted:

tales will be sung years hence that it was father who beseiged the valleymen's fort to the north, plundered their keep and set fire upon it all. at the feast, they will say, he smelted their ill-gotten gold into a mighty greataxe which he then plunged, still white-hot, into the valleyman chief's skull, to the cheers of the warriors and the cold approval of the hierarchs, blessed be their wisdom. children will sing hymns of father's march to the western shores, how he tore the boatmen from their decadent triremes and galleons, how he fed the sea regent to his own pet sharks. future generations will know of his conquests of the southern wastes, and the eastern jungles, and beyond, resulting in the foretold fulfillment of prophesy: the ultimate union of the entire continent under his banner, at the behest of the hierarchs, blessed be their wisdom. but, I say this to you, the songs will fall silent on his weaknesses, his ineptitudes, his failures. to protect the faith, our children's children will not sing of father's greatest embarrassment: maining chrom in super smash brothers ultimate like an unwashed tier-whore

Songbearer posted:

Hello I'm not from round these parts but I'm sad the topic never took off in gibbus so I am here and I gave this one a shot I hope you like it

With music

Without

_{I get hoarse near the end but it actually kind of works well}

I'm not a singer so hopefully dramatic readings will suffice maybe I can get the wife to sing one she's great

bee eater posted:

Have u considered sticking around and doing more of god's work?

Songbearer posted:

I will feed on more of these texts

Godspeed John posted:

every day she screams this phase into the ether. her voice emanating from this house only to get lost in the void. knick knacks knocked off of shelves, umbrella stand tumbles onto the floor and I say nothing. I do not even look in her direction. "we gonna ignore the fact that i've GOT A HUGE BOOTY," she screams again and again. the bookshelf has fallen over. Books are everywhere. I cannot acknowledge it. I MUST ignore the fact that she GOT A HUGE BOOTY. Such is the Orphean deal that I have made with the gods. We no longer share a bed, There is no longer any room for me, but I can never utter why. I MUSE ignore the fact that SHE GOT A BIG BOOTY else all i will be lost. Is a life where all I can do is ignore the face that sheGOT A BIG BOOTY even worth living? But the question is moot, as I am bound by duty and divine contract and I am a man of honor.

Heather Papps posted:

For the purposes of discussion, Richard Dawkins described seven "milestones" on his spectrum of booty believability:[5]

1 Strong theist. 100% probability that the booty exists. In the words of C.G. Jung: "I do not believe, I know."
2 De facto theist. Very high probability but short of 100%. "I don't know for certain, but I strongly believe in the huge booty and live my life on the assumption that itis there."
3 Leaning towards theism. Higher than 50% but not very high. "I am very uncertain, but I am inclined to believe in you have a huge booty."
4 Completely impartial. Exactly 50%. "your bootys largeness or smallness are exactly equiprobable."
5 Leaning towards atheism. Lower than 50% but not very low. "I do not know whether your booty is huge but I'm inclined to be skeptical."
6 De facto atheist. Very low probability, but short of zero. "I don't know for certain but I think your booty is very improbable, and I live my life on the assumption that it is not huge."
7 Strong atheist. "I know there is no huge booty, with the same conviction as Jung knows there is one."

Heather Papps posted:

when i burst forward screaming from my mother, my father hoisted me up, then severed the cord to womanhood with a swift swipe of a blade. then he thrust the sword into the earth, displayed my brooding visage to them and declared
THIS IS MY SON. I GIVE HIM NOT BUT MY STRENGTH OF BLOOD, MY CUNNING OF MIND, AND A BLADE THAT HE MAY TAKE ALL ELSE HE DESIRES

i was born a man. i suckled on fermented bears milk, drank fresh blood from the cows each morn. the birth had destroyed my mother, i have never known her face.
when i could grip, a dagger was my rattle, a shortsword my treasured friend. i knew nothing but battle. my father trained me, forged me into strongest iron until the day i could defeat him at any challenge. he had built me into a man without fear.

then the woman came to town. father did not shield me from her, warn me of her charms. she was a witch of the grey forest, and she bound me with sigils and signs. she cut my hair, and bound my heart in bands of steel i could not bend or break.

i hate my father. he taught me how to fight men, so that i would be powerless against women.

Manifisto" posted:

Manifisto posted:
a bad man wants to do bad things. the bad man can be stopped by throwing something away, but grownups can't be trusted to throw the thing away because they are very greedy and will keep the thing instead and use it for nasty grownup stuff. so it's up to some small basically children to go to the place to throw it away, and it's hard because almost everybody else in the world wants the thing, including another child who became really bad and ugly and not nice because he wanted the thing too much. there are also some really smart and friendly tall grownups who don't want the thing and sing a lot of songs. people wonder why the children didn't ride eagles to the place where they can throw the thing away, and actually nobody knows why they didn't ride the eagles, it would have been much faster.

Songbearer posted:

Wiv mewsik
Wivvaht


1) Version with music. "There is music, and I can hear it."
2) Version without. "There is no music, and I will never hear it."


VERSION WITH MUSIC.
I NEED NO MUSIC.


Yes! Yes! Musicses playing for us, it is!
NO! SILENCES! SILENCES THE NOISES!



_{this is the most times i've ever yelled "booty" at my mic}