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SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
Ever since the arrival of "Eric" our fan-fiction society had begun the inexorable slide towards inevitable destruction. After the events of last night I became so powerfully angry that I ended up sleeping on my neighbour's driveway. I woke up underneath his car, yet another data point in my developing theory that my neighbour, who works the night shifts, is parking his car on top of me when I sleep there. I sleep outside during these potent rages because I am concerned that my treasured posessions would not survive the full force of my fury, not even my collection of editions of the seminal Objectivist text "The Fountainhead", which are ordered by publication date and at this point certainly worth a vast sum of money should I ever choose to sell them which I never would because of how important they are to me.

The latest consignment of ignorant bile that emanated from what "Eric" is pleased to call his mind was over my Captain America/House crossover fic which I continue to maintain recontextualises both works to such an insightful extent that it could heal the divisions in our great nation if only the ignorant peons that comprise the majority of the populace would open their minds long enough to see it. The preening ignoramus made a number of unwelcome and incorrect observations regarding a key character in my work, who helps Dr. Gregory House lead Steve Rogers to the inevitable conclusion that Anarcho-Capitalism is the only correct way for a nation to function. "Eric" insisted that this character represented a "blatant self-insert", purely because they simply happen to have the same hair and eye colour as me as well as sharing my beliefs and stylish dress sense.

I suppose that I should not allow myself to be surprised by the capriciousness of inferior minds, but it continues to baffle me that my fellows afford this "Eric" with any measure whatsoever of attention and respect. This is a man who will freely admit without any trace of shame to enjoying the show "The Big Bang Theory" which is deeply offensive in the way that it stereotypes nerds and nerd culture, which if you look at it objectively is absolutely the most oppressed group in the world. That show is basically blackface but for nerds and if these SJWs really cared about so-called "cultural appropriation" they would be up in arms about this shameful nonsense but they are not, which tells you all you need to know, really. He also once made a joke the punchline of which was a reference to the "Large HARD-ON Collider" which I did not appreciate because the project at CERN has become very personally meaningful to me ever since I read an article about the Higgs Boson on Forbes dot com, a site I no longer frequent due to their policy on ad blockers.

Sometimes at night when the panic attacks threaten to overwhelm it helps to rest my naked body against the cool enamel of my empty bath.

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SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
Creative writing is both an art and a science much like the work of entrepreneur Elon Musk whose Myers-Briggs score is INTJ much like my own which has lead me to form a very personal attachment to both his work in electric cars but also his pioneering achievements in getting humanity to Mars, where I intend to live my final years, which will of course be final because there is no such thing as heaven.

The fact that I keep the curtains shut on certain days has nothing to do with any kind of "being unable to cope", I simply dislike the glare on my dual monitors and I coincidentally prefer it when it is harder to see the contents of the mirror.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
The second insult came in as many days. I am not a fellow to anger easily, in fact I am a chill sort of guy but when I am riled up I am a force to be reckoned with. So powerful is the extent of my anger that in heated situations, such as when I am repeatedly mocked, often I am forced to leave the room to spare those present from my rage and power, but I am not leaving so nobody can see me cry, whatever slanderous cowards such as "Eric" might say.

I have been working tirelessly for months to win the heart of the fair Betty by helping edit her admittedly awful "Little Mermaid" fics and generally being there for her like a true gentleman would. And yet this "Eric" has the gall to treat her so unchivalrously as to ask her out to dinner, right out from under my nose. She said yes of course, as women in our society feel so obliged to do to appease the cads and bounders of this world, ignoring men like me who would treat them like the royalty that they deserve to be, if only they would let us which they don't.

It is much like the time I was ousted from my position as manager of the CounterStrike-themed internet radio station that I used to manage. Broadcasting five straight hours of Cradle of Filth is nothing less than a true education in what music could be if it tried harder, rather than "unreasonable and unlistenable" as certain Quisling server operators would have you believe. Just because you own the SHOUTcast server does not entitle you to pull my carefully grown and nutured radio station out from under me and my many supporters. Fortunately I have shown myself to be the bigger and more mature individual by stepping away and refusing to interact with anyone involved for over ten years which just goes to show how above it all and over the whole thing I am, unlike certain people I could name if it were not for the fact that I refuse to do that due to betrayal.

I went so far as to unplug the radio and TV but for some reason I keep hearing an inexplicable sobbing noise every time I am alone in the dark.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!

Jeffrey of YOSPOS posted:

lacking in theology and geometry, voted 1

"Eric" once made an attempt to challenge me on the topic of Theology however I was able to masterfully shut him down, pointing out that it is a waste of time and certainly unworthy of being deemed an academic subject, in a similar vein to my masterful campaign to get my University to stop teaching Theology which would absolutely have been successful were it not for the fact that it was cut short by my having to drop out for personal reasons that are irrelevant to this discussion and not a big deal anyway.

I once read a flyer for a talk on Plato's sacred geometry but I did not attend as I already understood the topic perfectly, although really it does not matter since sacred geometry is un-enlightened nonsense that has been demonstrated to be utterly wrong by the Copenhagen Interpretation of the Standard Model of Quantum Physics and possibly also Copernicus.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!

Ben Smash posted:

OP can you please discuss your feelings on internet sensation Ken Bone?

I went to a political debate once. In actual fact it was an art piece put on by my close personal friend Graeme who is a successful artist. In point of fact he is almost as successful in his chosen field as I am in mine except his success is more obvious due to money and fame whereas I prefer to hide my light under a bushel. In the art piece we were split into three groups: one group for each candidate and one "undecided" group. I was in the undecided group as I felt unable to support either candidate's ticket as neither showed a valid understanding of the principles of Anarcho-Capitalist thought or had anything to say about the possibility of a rogue AI destroying us all which is absolutely the most pressing existential threat due to its potential to kill billions or maybe even trillions as opposed to some nonsense about global warming or AIDS which will obviously be solved by nano-science and biomechanical augmentation as soon as the singularity happens which it obviously will.

As part of the exhibit, the "politicians" continued to debate and gradually people from our "undecided" area moved towards one candidate or another. Generally they moved in one direction only because one of the candidates was saying some pretty bizarre things, which I was later informed was commentary of some sort. Eventually I was the only person left in the middle because neither candidate had mentioned any issue relevant to me for example the myriad problems with the casting of Ben Affleck as Bruce Wayne A.K.A. Batman. The so-called finale of the piece was that the undecided group i.e. me was doused in hot bull's urine from a bucket that was hidden above in a bit where no-one could see.

Everyone clapped and cheered, but in a way that seemed like they were cheering at me, not with me, especially as I was not cheering but trying to get the taste of bovine micturation out of my mouth.

On the way out I got dizzy and I had to lie down with my head on the curb, due to the hot studio lights. It definitely was not a panic attack, what ever anyone else says, because I know precisely what those feel like and I only ever have them when no-one is looking.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
After the Betty debacle I resolved that I should attempt to gain the trust and friendship of "Eric" if I were to annnihilate him as he so richly deserves. I had an issue attempting to void my bladder earlier when two men entered the restroom and carried on with their conversation about some manner of sporting event, destroying the peace and quiet that I require and demand when attending to bodily functions. I chose to see my still-full bladder as a good thing, another tool in my quest to befriend this heinous, simian fool as I had once read that the mind's decision-making capacity is improved when one desperately needs to urinate, which I did.

As our fan-fiction society meeting prepared to begin, I sidled over to "Eric", eyeing suspiciously his absurd hair style, which females seem to like for some ridiculous reason, just because he isn't already going bald which is a sign of high testosterone anyway so I don't see what the problem is.

"Eric my goodly fellow, how are you doing?" I asked in my best confident voice which is essentially a flawless imitation of Sir Patrick Stewart as Captain Jean-Luc Picard in Star Trek: The Next Generation which is the best Star Trek. "I am curious to know of your opinion of the television show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic." I picked that show because it is impossible to be a thinking, feeling human and not appreciate the flawless nature of MLP and thus would be an ideal piece of common ground. Alas, little did I truly understand the depths of the depravity of this "Eric".

"Oh that stupid kid's show? Hah, those grown men who watch that are such sad-sacks!" he uttered in that disgusting, guttural reptilian voice of his. "Wait, you don't like it, do you?"

"Of course not!" I bellowed in my most self-assured stutter. "That show is for little girls and sad old baby-men and there is absolutely nothing for a fully formed functioning adult to learn from the philosophy of tolerance and friendship espoused by My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic," I lied, every wretched syllable further compounding my cruel betrayal of Twilight Sparkle et al. My heart felt almost as heavy as my bladder.

"Eric" looked at me suspiciously for a moment as though this sub-person had any right to judge an enlightened intellectual such as myself. Then he grinned in a way that was simultaneously devious and devoid of any form of thought, like a cockroach might grin if it had the correct facial components which it does not so it can't. He slapped me on the back in a way that the wretch probably believed to be friendly. My relief at having so rapidly won the trust of this moron was marred by the sudden jolt he had given me with his oafish clubbing.

Both factors led to a brief slip in what is normally truly excellent bodily control, and my distended bladder took the opportunity to void itself. Warm wet shame began to course through the areas around my pelvis and legs and feet. Everyone in the room turned to look at me.

Time stopped. The moment hung in the air like a delicate crystal, before dropping to the floor and shattering as pandemonium broke loose. The room blurred as I began to weep, but in a manly way like how Aragorn cries over Boromir at the end of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. My eyes were crying and my genitals were also crying as well but in a different way because I was still urinating.

The meeting was cut short. I was forced to walk home because the bus lady would not let me on for sanitary reasons even though urine is sterile which this stupid woman would understand if she'd ever read a book which is what I said just before she drove off.

The gentle hum of the open refrigerator can make for a very effective sleep aid.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
Please do not patronise me. The refrigerator is there only for recreational and therapeutic purposes and does not contain food as I agree with intellectual sensation Rob Rinehart that it is a travesty that so called "property developers" force men like me to live with the vestigial organ that is a kitchen. As a matter of fact I experimented with the food replacement solution known as Soylent over a series of months however I was forced to concede that it does not agree with my internal workings following a deeply embarrassing fecal event in the Mall of America.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
Betty's cruel rejection of my subtle romanticism in favor of Eric's Stygian grunting stung in particular because I was still recovering from my most recent romantic rejection in which I was treated very poorly indeed and when the screenplay I wrote about it is picked up by MIRAMAX Films LLC the whole world will know that I am not to be trifled with.

I met Gretchen in a chat room dedicated to seminal bishōjo Anime series Galaxy Angel. We bonded instantly thanks to the fact that we were both taken with my theory that Milfeulle Sakuraba is in actual fact a Time Lord which you can tell due to certain pieces of evidence that I choose not to share here as it is very personal to me and I have been hurt before for example the time I am talking about now.

As we got closer to each other we moved on to private chats and sharing pictures. She told me she admired my "healthy forehead" and "gamer's complexion" and for my part I found it enchanting how changeable she was in photographs, regularly altering her hair color and even appearing to have different eye color and facial structure. What rare beauty is this, I thought to myself. Soon I was invited to visit her at her dwelling in Canton, Ohio which I relished not only because it meant I would meet my lady love but also because I always appreciate a city that can be reached via Amtrak.

I turned up at her address that she gave me, which was a small suburban house near the south-west of the city located near a telegraph pole. I turned up 17 hours early because I find it difficult to count on trains. The person who opened the door was not the beautiful woman with whom I had fallen in love and who had haunted my dreams like a beautiful sexual ghost and lead to a new regimen related to the frequency of times I wash my bed sheets.

Instead a man of similar age and complexion to myself answered the door and began apologizing. He said his name was Jormus, which I was able to verify after insisting on inspecting a drivers license or other state-issued ID. He admitted that he had pretended to be the lovely Gretchen, which did explain certain inconsistencies which I appreciated even though I was left feeling hollow and empty inside much like the complex suite of emotions Thomas Anderson A.K.A. Neo experiences when he learns about the Matrix in my re-written version of the film which fixes a number of very serious problems with the film.

Jormus said he had two tickets to go and see Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, which in spite of my disappointment I was happy to accept because I had been looking forward to another opportunity to catalogue the film's many flaws and betrayal of true fans of Star Wars. During the hackneyed cantina scene I felt a feeling of a hand on my genital area only to discover that I felt that because there was in actual fact a hand on my genital area which was connected via an arm to Jormus who said "I have my hand on your genital area because I love you," which required my almost superhuman hearing to understand because his mouth was full of popcorn.

I think it is really unfair and biased that I was thrown out from the cinema purely for reciting all of the raid bosses in level order from Blizzard's hit MMORPG World of Warcraft at the top of my voice which is what I often do when I feel confused. It's not as though anyone in there was mentally capable of appreciating the Star Wars mythology anyway in particular the code of the Gray Jedi which is what I would be if I were a Jedi.

I had to get the Greyhound bus back home after being forcibly ejected from the Amtrak train purely because I vomited on an infant after accidentally swallowing a used handkerchief.

I would prefer not to discuss the befoulment incident at Mall of America as for me the grief is still too near. At night if I close my eyes I can still taste the effluvium.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!

Worldshatter posted:

OP have you considered joining MENSA? I hear they cater to individuals of higher than human intelligence such as yourself.

Although I feel it to be beneath me these days I am certainly am perfectly qualified to join MENSA as I have an IQ score of 134 which I achieved as part of a bevy of tests that the school therapist made me take after the incident with the ducks in the pond near the school.

In 2011 I decided to join this society for the better-minded but hit a stumbling block as my mother has the test scores and I was unable to retrieve them due to her having changed her phone number and email and address without telling me. I did once have a copy of my own however it had become irretrievably stained after an ill-fated attempt to demonstrate why I was the true champion of a beef eating competition.

I do not perform well in exam environments which is due to my intellect and character being nigh impossible to quantify through the medium of mere ink and paper but after a dream in which I was encouraged to attend the MENSA test by Adam Jensen from the recently released video game Deus Ex: Human Revolution I resolved to go which is what I did.

I found it very hard to focus on the test as the invigilator looked exactly like famed actor Alan Rickman and I was heavily distracted by a desire to inform him that he was an excellent actor but that the Harry Potter film series is a travesty against the true brilliance of the book series which I actually did do three times. On the fourth attempt I was asked to leave. I wanted to know if this would affect my test scores in any way but he just laughed in a way that didn't sound like Alan Rickman at all which I found quite personally insulting. My test scores never arrived which just goes to show how disorganized these fools at MENSA are which is why I have personally boycotted them ever since.

I was so poorly treated on the bus on the way home that I was forced to write one of my many complaint letters to the transit authority. It is unreasonable and in fact discrimination to force me to dismount the bus purely due to an odor of sweat and excrement. Stress-pooping is a real condition suffered by hundreds of thousands of Americans and to deny us public transit is nothing short of pure prejudice and bigotry.

I keep counting the doors in my house but I never seem to get the same number twice.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
I have a confession to make. I have not left the house in an uncounted number of days, ever since the night of the fan-fiction society urination event. That night, I had a dream. In it, I stood with "Eric" on a wide empty plain, possibly Wyoming. But we were not the mortal enemies that we are in the waking world but instead friends and brothers in arms. We were returning home victorious from a great war similar in scope and consequence to the war against Melkor A.K.A. Morgoth in John Ronald Reuel Tolkien's classic work The Silmarillion which is better than the Lord of the Rings.

I stopped to congratulate "Eric" on his excellent warcraft and great brotherly love. "Eric" opened his mouth wide, so wide that the great plain disappeared behind the black curtain of the massive orifice. Transfixed, I felt a great suction as I was pulled inside, bouncing off his warm pink tongue as I descended deep into the black void of his gigantic innards.

I fell, I fell for uncounted eternities, except I was able to count them and it was twelve eternities. I landed with a splash at the feet of a towering bronze man who when I looked closer was revealed to me to be Andrew Ryan from the Bioshock series, who is absolutely the hero of those games except the developers were too stupid to notice that. He looked down at me and said, "Son, you are a great man. The greatest of all of us, possibly. Your treatise on how the ending of the Mass Effect series is essentially a war crime is possibly the greatest intellectual achievement anyone has ever done. But we have got to do something about all these bodily fluids of yours."

"It's not my fault," I said, "I keep being hoodwinked by inferior minds into accidentally fouling myself."

"I know," he replied, "but we can fix it. I have a secret."

He leant down and whispered into my ear and as he did so a lozenge of something small and hard and round was pushed into my ear canal where it remained. He stood up and smiled at me and "Eric" smiled at me too and hugged me warmly which he did by squeezing me with his insides.

I woke up, but not in time to prevent the hot jet of my involuntary semen hitting me right in the eye.

I put the mattress in front of the door because it is better there to keep the bad thoughts out.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
I have had many other strange dreams in the days since I eschewed the outside world. In one, I was naked, riding the crest of a great wave that was also my own receding hairline moving slowly across the precious pale jewel of my cranium. In the foamy brine of my head-sea, dugongs with the faces of my many unrequited loves pelted me with soiled diapers printed with all of my favorite Manga and comic books. In the West, a horn sounded, except that it said "I'm walking here!" but in the voice of Casper Van Dien of Starship Troopers fame.

What could these images mean?

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
In another dream I was taking a long romantic walk on the beach with Gretchen at sunset. All the sand was screaming, screaming for the ancient days before the world rotted and fell in on itself. Screaming but with eyes closed they can't see you if you close your eyes.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
Someone came by the house at some point. It was not the Papa John's pizza delivery representative as I have carefully trained him to leave my pizzas by the front door via Pavlovian condition techniques and targeted tipping which I normally do not do as I disagree with the principle of rewarding mediocrity.

They left a note. It simply reads "...tO LoOk oUt fOr aRe: A StRoNg sMeLl oF BuRnInG; tHe mOtOr mAy sOuNd lAbOuReD; tHe mOtOr mAy mAkE A LoW, pOpPiNg, BuBbLiNg nOiSe; SmOkE FrOm mOtOr cAsE ArEa; HiGh pItChEd nOiSe mAy iNdIcAtE..."

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!

Fellis posted:

Sentient Housemeat, if your dreams are troubling you why not eschew sleep? I think the caffine provided by a case of Mountain Dew: Code Red is more than enough to achieve this feat for days at a time.


I have performed a number of sleep deprivation experiments as I dislike the idea of turning my own consciousness off and also I do my best work at night plus I got sick of being woken up by the persistent night terrors. My record is six straight days, which was in aid of an epic World of Warcraft session. It was necessary to stay up for so long as I was forced to solo every instance because my guild abandoned me because they are fools who know NOTHING and there's nothing wrong with explaining that over Ventrilo for two hours.

I decided that I might be better off resuming my sleeping regimen after developing priapism on the sixth day. An important "life hack" to remember is that if one is dealing with a bladder full of Mountain Dew: Code Red and a throbbing erection, remember that one should close one's mouth when attempting to urinate.

In my last dream George Lucas flayed all the skin off me from my waist down and then wore it as a trendy pair of pants.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
I have been changing. My limbs and body grow long, impossibly long. Somehow, within the tiny dimensions of my squalid house, I am becoming vast, an image of the majesty that humanity once was, so many lost eons ago. Great titans, before the world broke and was harrowed and we were diminished.

The diarrhea has almost stopped. My transformation is almost complete.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
It is done. I am finished. I am become the image of what I always knew I could be. And now I am coming for you, "Eric". I am coming for you and there is nowhere to turn. But I am a reasonable man who can maintain generosity in the face of his many trials for example much like Ser Davos Seaworth from A Song of Ice and Fire which any true fan will know that is what it is actually called. I will not come in anger. I will come to you bearing a choice to lay at your feet. Join me and become my brother much like we were together in the ancient world. Become like me and together we will remake this world in our own image.

Otherwise I shall open my own mouth and pull you into me much like you did to me in my dream except this time it will be your dream except I will be there too because in reality we will both be awake. And you shall wait, deep within my inner recesses amongst my bodily fluids which are now under my complete control and shall remain inside me from now on. And you shall sit, and you shall learn all that I can teach. How to correctly pronounce Elvish instead of the mess Hugo Weaving made of it. The precise moment, to the very second, that Team Fortress 2 became a bad game. Why my fan-fiction was always better than yours. Maybe one day you will be ready to accept my offer of Godhood.

And then together, brother, we shall turn our giant eyes to the horizon, and begin our great work.

SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT fucked around with this message at 21:54 on Oct 17, 2016

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SENTIENT HOUSEMEAT
Oct 14, 2016

A thinking, breathing house? You're mad!
...


fin

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