alnilam posted:

I killed my uncle. And the bizarre thing is that I did it for my ghostly old man. I murdered this poor guy because I wanted him to think that I was cool. He's always going off about how when he was in school and all the people he used to kill. And I got the feeling that he was disappointed that I never cut loose on anyone, right? So I'm sitting in the chapel and I'm pondering stuff, and Claudius is praying right next to me me. And he's kinda, he's kinda unaware. Weak. And I started thinkin' about my ghost father, and his attitude about, about weakness. And the next thing I knew, I jumped on top of him and started whaling on him. And my friends, they just laughed and cheered me on. And afterwards, when I'm sitting in the guardhouse, all I could think about was my ghost dad, and Claudius having to become a ghost and explain what happened to him. And the humiliation - the loving humiliation he must have felt. It must have been unreal. I mean, how... how do you apologize for something like that? There's no way. It's all because of me and my old man. God, I loving hate him. He's like this mindless ghost that I can't even relate to anymore.

[crying]

'Hamlet! You've got to be number one! I won't tolerate any losers in this family! Your intensity is for poo poo! Kill kill kill!' You son of a bitch. You know, sometimes I wish my indecision would give. And I wouldn't be able to soliloquize anymore. And he could forget all about me.

Luvcow posted:

Android Blues posted:

social vegan posted:

well son, you either post or live long enough to see yourself become the qoʎq

bacalou posted:

yes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=El27YkIr-PM

misty mountaintop posted:

The socks are surely meeting in secret, somewhere beyond your knowledge, to plan your destruction. Your response must be in two parts.

1) Infiltration. You must learn of your enemy's plans by either spying or subterfuge.

a) Spying may be of two kinds: scouting, or a double agent.

i) Scouting. Buy a pair of new socks. Cultivate the loyalty of one of the socks by giving it gifts and honors on the one hand, and threatening its partner on the other. Keep the partner close, always on your foot. This will ensure the loyalty of your spy. Drop your spy behind the couch.

ii) Double agent. When a single sock returns mysteriously, you can be sure that it is a spy for the enemy. You may convert this sock to a double agent, but it must be done carefully because the enemy will no doubt be holding its partner hostage, just as you do with your spies. Double agents can be recruited to your side only by passionate belief or greed. Both require that you treat them in excess of their station, placing them in the top drawer with your finest underwear and hand-washing them. In this way you can encourage their avarice and represent your cause as just. It is best to never let on that you know they are a spy. Let them reveal it to you themselves, and accept their confession with mercy and good humor. This is how you gain their trust.

b) Subterfuge. Knit a human-sized sock and crawl into it. Now throw yourself in the dryer. After enough cycles, you will eventually be transported to the socks' secret lair. Make sure to stay hydrated.

2) Defense. The socks must eventually attack or lose their followers to impatience. A good defensive strategy consists of two elements: delay and fortification.

a) Delay. To delay the enemy, reduce the size of his army through restricting his access to recruits and by avoiding a causus belli.

i) Restricting access to recruits. Do not wash your socks. Buy black socks in small numbers and use Febreze as needed. This will keep the socks from fleeing.

ii) Avoiding a causus belli. Walk around barefoot, or wearing flip-flops or sandals, loudly declaiming "I no longer need socks. I see now that it is better to be barefoot than to oppress the sock people." Meanwhile, you are plotting their destruction.

b) Fortification. Build a big gently caress-off castle around your bed. They're just socks. They're not going to get into a castle.

from The Art of Wear by Sock Tzu

misty mountaintop posted:

Moses: Okay people, listen up. God had a couple of things to say to me.

1. Thou shalt not have any snacks before bedtime.
2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any cross-promotional branding opportunities.
3. Thou shalt not Do the Dew.
4. Remember the Food Pyramid, to keep it holy.
5. Stay hydrated.
6. Thou shalt not cover thy hands with orange dust.
7. Chester is a weird dude. I don't know what it is, but he seems like a pedophile.
8. Thou shalt not tell your kids that "Velveeta is practically the same thing."
9. They started covering Doritos with that poo poo to hide the fact that they go stale in about 15 seconds.
10. Thou shalt not try to discover the location of the Cool Ranch.

FutonForensic posted:

references used: mating slugs, melted bundle of Twizzlers

Splatmaster posted:

FactsAreUseless posted:

Don't you just hate THAT guy at your job? You know the one! He's always leaving a dirty coffee cop in the break room!

*audience laughs tentatively*

You know the guy, you go to lunch and he's at his desk carefully stacking all his pens into a perfectly-balanced vertical tower...

*one guy in the audience just really starts busting up*

You know, you know, yeah, I can see you in the front, you know what I'm talking about. The guy that merges into the wall every time there's cake in the break room, and he just sits there, just a pair of eyes staring out of the wall as his skin and veins spread out across it, you know the guy!

*the audience are laughing now, riotously, a clear, joyous laughter that sounds like music and spreads for miles*

Ugh, THAT guy, you ask him what he wants for lunch but he doesn't even hear you because he doesn't have any ears and the entire lower half of his body is spinning and spinning, it's like, woah, what is this, a laundromat?

*the audience are loving losing their minds, they're transcendent, their bodies have gone berserk flipping tables and smashing glasses but their souls are floating above the room*

And don't even get me started on taxes! Don't even get me started! Don't do it! Don't get me started! Don't let me get started! Don't start me! Do not allow me to begin, or to initiate, or to convey or discuss or present my opinions on taxes in any manner, any sort of tax, sales taxes

*the laughter carries to space*

property taxes

*humanity ascends to a single mind of energy*

income taxes

*the loud audience member from earlier becomes the leader of mankind*

estate taxes

*the comedian is the only man who stands apart from humanity, he remains on the stage, microphone in hand, a brick wall behind him, waiting to know when his time is up, but the rest of his kind journey beyond the stars*

misty mountaintop posted:

social vegan posted:

operator: "Hello this is 911 what is your emergency"

me: "I will tell thee of my emergency if thou shalt answer these riddles, three"

o: "Sir I don't have time for this, what is the nature of your emergency"

me: "Ah anxious, aren't we. What has 2 legs in the morning, but only 1 leg in the afternoon"

o: "Sir, I'm hanging up"

me: "incorrect my fair lady, 'tis my uncle, there's been a horrible accident"

Bo-Pepper posted:

LawfulWaffle posted:

Everything is laid out. Two slices of bread of fine quality lay open on my cutting board, flanked by fresh lettuce, plump tomatoes, twin squares of white American cheese, spicy mustard and mayonnaise. All that's missing is the star of the show. I return to the fridge and open the meat drawer, but there is no package of bold chipotle chicken. In its place sit an opened package of bologna. I feel my heart flutter and close the drawer. Perhaps I mistakenly placed it with the cheese. I open the second drawer and find two opened packages of bologna. The shock sends me backwards and in a flailing motion I grab a shelf from the refrigerator door, breaking it off with the full of my weight. I come crashing down and loose circles of pale bologna follow me, half covering me as my eyes search for an explanation. I find nothing but deep wrongness in the cold shelves that once held milk, eggs, and left-over pasta. Package upon opened package of bologna have replaced the things I once loved, and in the mass of processed meat I hear, no, feel a voice. This bologna, I understand before my mind softly snaps, has a first name. It has a second name too. I spell them, over and over, pledging to consume its flesh everyday.

FutonForensic posted:

"enjoy your meal!"

instantly, my stomach twists into a knot. I focus all my concentration on any appropriate phrase: "Have a nice day." "Thanks." "My Compliments to the chef." my throat is gurgling. there is an inky sickness in it that is bubbling over and consuming me from the inside. it can't be contained. as my lips pry themselves open, I pray that I merely scream or vomit, and regret ever cutting in line ahead of that witch at the Burger King.

"you too"

tears drip down my face, off my chin, and into my Kids' Meal nuggets

Manifisto posted:

Major Tom Goon (MTG): "Help! HELP! I'm stuck in space!!!"
Goons1-4: "Hold on to your tether and we'll reel you in!"
MTG: "I'm thinking I should let go and swim . . . should I swim?"
Goon5: "NO! I was trapped in space, and swimming doesn't work! There's no atmosphere! Keep hold of the tether!"
Goons6-9: "We're sending over a harness! Loop it around yourself!"
MTG: "I've got hold of the harness, but I don't want to put it on.. should I swim?"
Goon10: "No! If you swim, you'll drift away from the spacecraft, and then you'll be proper hosed. I should know, I almost floated away forever."
MTG: "I swam a little bit just now, and I haven't floated away. I'm gonna keep swimming..."
Goons11-18: "No! Stop that!"
MTG: "Guys, I'm seriously stuck in space! Help! HELP!!!"
Goon19: "I was trapped in space once. It took me hours, but I finally got back by throwing tools and unneeded mass in the opposite direction of where I needed to go. You've got some non-essential stuff strapped to your suit, you can do the same thing."
Goon20: "I've engineered a jet-pack that will rocket you to safety. Stay where you are and we'll send it over!""
"MTG: "Thanks for your help, guys. I'm gonna keep swimming. I'll just sort of keep nudging myself in the right direction until I reach safety."
**Goons1-20 piss in their spacesuits**
Goon21: "wh . . . why did we all just piss in our spacesuits?"

FutonForensic posted:

jeff helps roger troll Tinder for granny puss to slay. jeff knows how to pick the juiciest raisins. good job, jeff

FutonForensic posted:

cda posted:

Entropic posted:

Had a customer come in to pick up his computer this morning, and he calls back an hour later, get this, complaining about the bees!
I tell him, it's a Windows 7 machine man, you're gonna have a few bees in there.
He gets all mad and says there weren't bees when he brought it in.
Well no poo poo sherlock, what do you think we do here?

Splatmaster posted:

While everyone else is wondering who did it where and with what a lone man stands transfixed in front of a large, well-rendered painting on the wall before him. The painting, a seemingly Rebus-style puzzle, was a pair of large cutting knives. Below them, painted in perfect detail, was a ham side by side with what appeared to be a roast beef. Below it all, in stark immistakeble detail, was a female sheep in all her glory. He could be seen mouthing something...

"Let's see, knife, knife- no, not's not right. And we also have a ham, and a roast. That's strange! And a sheep. Hmmm..." he mused aloud. "Knife, knife- KNIVES! and meats, two meats... and a ewe. KNIFE TWO MEATS AND A EWE!

A voice whispers, "close enough!" Suddenly, the lights dim and go out. When they come back on, someone lay dead in a pool of blood... The lights go out again, and the body is now missing, a blood stain on the carpet the only reminder it was ever even there.

FutonForensic posted:

Palpek posted:

Splatmaster posted:

cda posted:

Woooo de oooo its Duck Tales time
sit back and chill to my Duck Tales rhyme

This is Duckburg and you can hang with me
you can chill out relax and and solve a mystery with me
if you need a pick me up cuz you're feelin down
just call Launchpad and he'll come around
quackin' all over your melancholy posts
especially Scrooge cuz he earns the most

See what i did dere dat wuz a namedrop
because the circlejerks in the Burg dey never stop

it's all about nephews, Huey, Dewey, and Louie
see how many times you can rewrite history
post a treasure map cuz life's a hurricane I said
toss your money up and let it hit you on the head

make a youtube thread, MSpaint a duck
if dey find out ur a girl then they'll all be down to gently caress
and even if youre not you can still be a chick
it's another word for duckling, thats the trick

if you're straight up beagle boyin' and youre tryina steal from Scrooge
sit down right here and ill tell you some news
here in the Burg its not about attention
It's racecars, lasers, aeroplanes that get all the affection

It Duck Tales, Duck Tales for the win
Wooo and an Oooo, sliding to the Money Bin

UWBW posted:

Pizza in the morning. Pizza in the evening. Pizza when you get home from work. Pizza when you pet the cat. Pizza when you cry into your ice cream and lie on the couch. Pizza for when you think of Jennifer. Pizza for when you you hug your mom. Pizza for when you see a dog. Pizza for when you picture Jennifer rubbing Brad's dick through his pants at the Christmas party last year and wrote it off as a drunken mistake. Pizza when you see a cute lil' bird out the window. Pizza when you stare at the scale and realize you've gained 14 pounds in two months. Pizza after hitting the gym. Pizza when you laugh at a funny joke. Pizza when your wallet is empty. Pizza when you scrub the blood out of the floorboards but it stains, how it stains, and it won't come out. Pizza for when you describe to the police how you and Brad were actually rather close friends. Pizza for Jennifer, who sobs into your arms. Pizza for when you take advantage of a woman's suffering. Pizza for two kids later and she can't leave you now. Pizza at suppertime. When pizza's on a bagel, you can eat pizza any time!

BoldFrankensteinMir posted:

Stock footage of men unloading crates of stock footage. One holds a strip up to the light for inspection- he sees himself nodding in approval as he inspects stock footage. He nods in approval to the camera crew.

Applewhite posted:

OK, when I say "Rock and—" you say "Roll!" Ready?

Rock and—

*a handful of people shouts out "ROLL!!!" at the top of their lungs*

Ok let's see, who's out...

You and you and you, all of this group over here, please leave. You're out. Thanks.

Alright,

SIMON SAAAAAAYYYYYYSSSS ROCK AND—

*Crowd explodes* ROLLLLLL!!!!!!

FutonForensic posted:

Hi thread. I'm a Rural Planning Engineer with 8 years of experience, living in a Scandinavian country that does a much better job of it than whatever shithole you live in. Suck my drat nuts, buddy! Anyway, I want to provide a little bit of insight into what happens in a typical rural reformation.



This is a fairly standard independent farmstead. The problem with these installations is the lack of traffic; it lacks amenities that a forward-thinking populace (not yours) will make use of on a daily basis. First we add a Pizza Hut for attractive, high-energy dining:



Once we draw in the crowds, we boost our retained consumer rate by providing a premium-caliber shopping mall:



A second Pizza Hut is added in case the first one runs out of pizza



Finally, bike lanes:



There you go. A modern metropolis in just four easy ste

Drink-Mix Man posted:

Opinion:

I Am Part of the Resistance Inside the Bowser Administration

I work for the Lizard King but like-minded creatures and I have vowed to thwart parts of his agenda and his worst inclinations.

King "Bowser" Koopa is facing a test to his dictatorship unlike any faced by a modern Mushroom Kingdom leader.

It’s not just that the Mario Brothers loom large. Or that the kingdom is bitterly divided over Mr. Koopa's leadership. Or even that his cabal might well lose the Valley Fortress to an opposition hellbent on his downfall.

The dilemma — which he does not fully grasp — is that many of the minibosses in his own administration are working diligently from within to frustrate parts of his agenda and his worst inclinations.

I would know. I am one of them.

To be clear, ours is not the popular “resistance” of the Toads. We want the administration to succeed and think that many of its policies have already made the Mushroom Kingdom safer and more prosperous.

But we believe our first duty is to this Kingdom, and the king continues to act in a manner that is detrimental to the health of our monarchy.

That is why many Bowser appointees have vowed to do what we can to preserve our magical institutions while thwarting Mr. Koopa's more misguided impulses until he is out of power.

The root of the problem is the King's morality. Anyone who works with him knows he is not moored to any discernible first principles that guide his decision making.

Although he came to power as a Koopa, the king shows little affinity for ideals long espoused by turtlekind: free hammers, free giant boots, and unlimited respawns. At best, he has invoked these ideals in cutaway screens. At worst, he has attacked them outright.

In addition to his mass-marketing of the notion that Nintendo Power magazine is the “enemy of the people,” King Koopa's impulses are generally anti-fair gameplay.

Don’t get me wrong. There are bright spots that the near-ceaseless negative coverage of the administration fails to capture: effective princess imprisonment, historic P-switch reform, a more robust goomba military and more.

But these successes have come despite — not because of — the king's leadership style, which is impetuous, cartoonish, and easily defeated.

From the Crystal Palace to Dark Land Doom Ships and castles, senior minibosses will privately admit their daily disbelief at the Final Boss' methods and actions. Most are working to insulate their operations from his whims.

Meetings with him veer off topic and off the rails, he engages in manic Clown Copter joyrides, and his impulsiveness results in half-baked, ill-informed and occasionally reckless misplacement of items like axes and wind-up Koopa Troopas which can actually be thrown as weapons against him.

“There is literally no telling whether he might change his tactics from one minute to the next,” a top official complained to me recently, exasperated by a World 8-4 meeting at which the king manically bounced up and down, undecided between breathing fire and throwing hammers.

The erratic behavior would be more concerning if it weren’t for unsung heroes in and around the Final Castle. Some of his Koopalings have been cast as villains by the player's guide. But in private, they have gone to great lengths to keep bad decisions contained to the Dark World, though they are clearly not always successful.

It may be cold comfort in this chaotic era, but Mushroom Kingdom denizens should know that there are adults in the room. We fully recognize what is happening. And we are trying to do what’s right even when Bowser the Koopa won’t.

The result is two-track gameplay.

Take foreign policy: In public and in private, King Koopa shows a preference for ineffective small-time bosses, such as Wario and King Wart of Subcon, and displays little genuine appreciation for the ties that bind us to allied, like-minded games.

Astute observers have noted, though, that the rest of the kingdom is operating on another track, one where lands like Subcon are called out for being reskins of pre-existing Japanese games, and where allies in other cartridges are engaged as peers rather than ridiculed as rivals.

On Subcon, for instance, the king was reluctant to expel so many of Mr. Wart’s shyguys as punishment for acting as obstacles in the DK Summit stage of the Wii go-kart races. He complained for weeks about senior minibosses letting him get boxed into further confrontation with Subcon, and he expressed frustration that the Koopa Kingdom continued to impose sanctions on the Dream World for its malign behavior. But his Koopalings knew better — such actions had to be taken, to hold Wart’s Dream Factory accountable.

This isn’t the work of the so-called “Player 1" and "Player 2.” It’s the work of the non-playable characters.

Given the instability many witnessed, there were early whispers within World 8 of invoking the Game Genie, which would start a cheat process for easily bypassing the king. But no one wanted to precipitate a gameplay crisis. So we will do what we can to steer the kingdom in the right direction until — one way or another — it’s game over.

The bigger concern is not what Mr. Koopa has done to the throne but rather what we as a game have allowed him to do to us. We have sunk low with him and allowed our gameplay to be stripped of civility.

Donkey Kong put it best in his farewell killscreen. All sprites should heed his words and break free of the tribalism trap, with the high aim of uniting through our shared programming and love of seeing Mario spinning around randomly until he dies.

blaise rascal posted:

Cop A: "We've got reports of a big-time exercise-exaggerator in the area. And judging by his posts on social media, it looks like he's on the move. Check it out:"



Cop B: "drat. And our squad cars top out at 170 mi/hr. Looks like he wins this round."

FutonForensic posted:

Guillermo, my man! Listen kid, I just wanna say that I read your script and loved it. We've got a real summer blockbuster on our hands here. I'm talking Terminator: Salvation big. Ooo, I gave myself the chills! Listen squirt--can I call ya "squirt"?--I'm just gonna have the B-team make some quick edits, namely, we're removing all the scenes where the giant robots suck everyone's dicks, and we're changing the title away from "Pussy-ific Rimjob" to, I dunno, "Pacific Rim." A working title, we'll workshop it! Love ya babe, mmmwah! Bye-bye

Manifisto posted:

I'm popeye the sailor moon
I live in the wrong cartoon
no spinach today
it's all anime
I'm hoping for sweet release soon

Nosfereefer posted:

garf: ive gotta tell you about jon
odie: yeah?
garf: he's a dog cum drinker
*laugh track*
odie: a dog cum drinker?
garf: he favours the dog cum
odie: so let me get this straight, he drinks dog cum?
garf: he's a dog cum guzzling man
odie: not that there's anything wrong with th-
*lasagna burst through the door*
*audience cheers*
garf: don't you ever knock?
lasagna: *breathlessly* you will never guess what i saw jon drink!

FutonForensic posted:

nude worf

data: ensign, I do not believe such a request is becoming of a starfleet--

👏 nude 👏 worf 👏 nude 👏 worf

data: curious. it appears I have much to learn about hu--*dies when spawngibbed by nude worf*

Finger Prince posted:

The transformation begins.
Block print spandex erupts from my skin.
The foam roll of a yoga pad springs from my spine.
From my clawed hands, an iPhone and an extra skinny white chocolate mochachino. Kathy written on the side in black felt tip.
"Hashtag turmeric!" I shout to my followers. "Hashtag wellness!" they reply.
A small, angry dog appears under my arm.
The transformation is complete.

GODSPEED JOHN GLENN posted:

fart fart poop toilet butt fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart poop fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart fart