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N.



Joined: 05 Jun 2011
Posts: 1196

PostPosted: Sat Jan 07, 2012 1:00 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Conservationist wrote:
How I Came To Love Opeth

My life had failed; there was no denying it. I spent my Saturday nights prowling eBay for rare "black metal" releases that sounded more like Rites of Spring or Nation of Ulysses than elder Darkthrone. No matter -- I needed to get the taste of my day job making sandwiches at Thundercloud out of my mouth.

I was about to log off, masturbate to weeaboo porn and drink myself into a stupor, when I saw the last listing. OMFG original signed Nargaroth album with poster! I clicked but I was too late. On a whim, I sent a message to the seller seeing if he had more. He did, and he was in Austin where I live, and wanted to meet up just down the street.

No metal record collector (this is a term like "metalhead" but more refined) would refuse this offer, so I put on my pleather pants, 2nd best bullet belt, leather jacket with inset denim and patches, Axl Rose-style bandana with a Conqueror patch on it, and then my best chest-cross bandoliers. I looked at this in the mirror and I wasn't right, so I took it all off and switched t-shirts (Watain replacing Ofermod) and then put the whole ensemble back on but this time I used my first-best bullet belt and only one bandolier. Then I said, "Damn, nilla, this looks gay," so I switched back to two bandoliers and the first bullet belt, because the .50s in the second made it impossible to move with the bandoliers. As a result I was late.

I walked into Chuy's and looked around for my contact. I couldn't see anyone, until I looked in the far corner and saw what I thought was a reflection from a bullet belt and sunglasses. Tentatively, I moved in that direction, people scattering before me. When I got there, I almost passed out with shock. It was Caller of the Storms! He held up the LP and a whisky glass. I sat down and we started drinking. We just talked about cool shit, you know, bullet belts, crime, Blasphemy, war metal, violence, Blasphemy, urban decay, apocalypse, war metal, Blasphemy. Then he stood up and said, "I'm coming home with you!"

How could I refuse? On the walk back, he told me sort of shyly that he thinks black metal died in 1993 and what passes for it now is just a mess. The real spirit, he said, can come from only one thing. What's that I asked? He told me I'd find out, and I sure did. When we got into my place, I felt a solid THWOCK as the now-empty whisky bottle hit me on top of the head. I slumped to the floor.

When I woke up, Caller was holding a lit candle to my testicles. He told me that my education was about to begin. He put a record on the turntable. It was the delicious sounds of Velvet Cacoon! I started to hum along, and then he really put the flame to my balls.

When my screams stopped echoing off the walls, he told me we would start again. Another record went on the player. I didn't recognize it. The band had no angle, know what I mean? It was just plain jane old death metal. I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up and he was shaking a record in my face. "This is real death metal! Pay attention!" I later learned this LP was by a band named Sepultura (not related to the numu band) and was called Bestial Devastation.

This torture went on all night. He would take one of my precious USBM or blackened crust LPs and burn my testicles when I showed any sign of enjoying it. Then he would make me listen to some un-nuanced, middle of the road classic death metal and insist it was better. Worst of all, he smashed my "new classics" like Krallice and Leviathan. I was crushed.

When dawn finally brought relief, he pulled out one final album. Opeth's "Orchid." I said I liked that one and it looked like a first press, but I didn't own it. He looked at me with a mixture of scorn and pity, and said these words I'll never forget:

"Son, there's two types of metal. There's true metal and there's metal for bottom bunk punks. This here is the latter. All that crap you bought off ebay is also the latter. You better find yourself some early Sarcofago soon, or your soul will be lost forever."

He vanished in a puff of smoke. In the center of the room were all my precious FMP-approved albums, shattered. I still can't tell if it was true or a dream. They found me later that day wandering down Lamar, singing "If you are a false, don't entry" to the melody of an old Ray Charles tune. Now I spend my days in an asylum on a steady diet of Haldol and powdered eggs. Don't let this happen to you.


Uhahah, this was pretty good.
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N.



Joined: 05 Jun 2011
Posts: 1196

PostPosted: Sat Jan 07, 2012 1:10 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Okay, I think this is one of my better stories, and I think it's obvious I was listening to alot of Carnivore at the time? Hehe.

The Muffdiver

"Fucking faggots!" shouted Doc Smuntz, whipping out his pistol and getting the two homosexual jogger men out of his Army Surplus store. I saw his bald head glinting in the sun, as he pushed his spectacles farther up his nose and put his pistol back in his black vest pocket. I'm not sure what I was doing at his place that day, but I kind of wanted these new jungle boots Doc had invented, they had long spike blades at the toes and could hurtle you about fifteen feet into the air....that might be useful in some situation, I thought. He also sold Illegal grenades, bullet belts, maces, machine guns, etc. You just had to be discreet about it, I guess. Doc was a huge guy, six foot five, muscle bound, yet an old fucker, about forty five years old. He was always going on about Hitler and war, a nazi in other words. He was paranoid as hell, thought the japs were the deadly enemy of mankind. If he simply walked across the street to his car, he would have to carry a big black bag full of guns and ammo. He spent his days endlessly trying to invent things, mostly new types of weapons, but he had some strange ideas. He'd called me yesterday, while I was busy going down on a woman's pussy, slurping up the juices. I had a hunch it was Doc, so I jumped off the bitch and answered the phone. I put the receiver to my ear.
"Hey, Dan! What are you doing? I just came up with a new invention, better than anything yet! Want to hear about it?"
"Okay," I said reluctantly, since I had strong doubts that the damn thing would be worth a shit. "So, was is it this time? A machine gun that can also jack you off and cook you steak?"
"Hah!" said Doc, belligerently. I assumed he'd been drinking whiskey again. "No! This time....well, you'll have to come over and check it out, man! This is the real fucking deal this time. I've created this big fucking screen thing, on poles. Simply, you jump into the contraption and you are made very small! Like tiny! You won't believe it, I could crush you like a bug! Do you want to be the first to try this out? And let me tell you something, you listen here....I have another idea. Man, I had a wild party in the back room last night, tons of whores, man, dirty babes all around. I dived into pussy, I fucked left and right. But there is this one dirty whore who I tied up in the back room....which is the reason I'm calling you, man. Her pussy is extremely hairy! Now here's my idea, man....YOU dive into my invention, with the whore underneath, and you land in her pussy hairs! I know it sounds sick, but think about it, man! Just think...you might end up in a jungle! And I have a sneaking suspicion that she has lice and crabs! Now...you try to dive into her pussy. And don't worry about a thing, I have a zap gun thingamajig that can turn you back to your natural size! You will be removed from that pussy abyss! So, what's the deal?"
"Honey, who the hell is that? Get back down here!" said Samantha, the whore I was banging that day.
"Shutup, cunt, I'm busy," I grumbled.
"Cocksucker," I heard her whisper.
So I really thought about it for some seconds. It sounded disastrous, Doc's latest idea. Who the fuck knows what would happen? Maybe he would just jump up and down on me as soon as I was shrunk to a tiny little speck. But I had been feeling suicidal lately, I was fed up with whores and bullshit, so I thought: What the hell? Why not give it a try? I don't have much to live for anyway, and I could be the first man to be shrunk to a tiny little...thing, I guess.
"Alright, Doc," I said, "I'll give this fucking thing a try, but don't you try anything crazy on me, like you did with your last invention. That mechanical woman you set on to "berserker" mode and she punched the shit out of me, that was fucked up. When do you want me to show up?"
"Tomorrow!" he shouted in my ear. "That will be best. As I said, I have the whore tied up in the back room. I've been feeding her dog food and tuna....I'm really dangerous, you know? I'm a crazy man, I love it! Hail Hitler! Now...if only those goddamn English pricks hadn't stuck their snouts into world war two! We really could have conquered this world! And that new generation of aryan stock....they would have really triumphed under Hitler. But also I think, regarding the war, the thing is that-"
I hung up on him. I had heard similar ramblings of his so many times.
"Who the fuck was that, Dan? Get back down here and give me an orgasm!" Samantha demanded.
"Shutup, bitch."
I put my pants back on and made a margarita.
So I pounded on Doc's door, the place seemed to be locked, even in the daytime. I waited a few minutes in the hot sun, worrying that the whore I banged yesterday had some STD, though I doubted it. People strolled past me, staring at me, for some reason. I was wearing army jeans (bought from Doc's recently) and fur pads on my shoulders. Doc opened the door and pulled me in, then kicked those homos out of his place, as I said before, shutting and locking the door behind us. So anyway, there I was, wondering about those new boots that could hurtle you in the air up to fifteen feet, after Doc had kicked the homo's out of his place. Hmm, why was he locked in previously with the homos? Weird guy....Well, I was more interested in the boots than trying out this weird invention he talked to me about on the phone yesterday. I was barely sober and I had an awful hangover, as I had slurped up endless margaritas after kicking Samantha out of my place. Doc grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and spat in my face:
"Now listen here! Don't you go getting any ideas about homo's frequenting my establishment, I had them in here, with the door locked, so I was thinking....I could throw the fags onto my sheet invention, shrink the fucks down and stomp them to dust! But they started freaking out and trying to grab some shotguns, and then you showed up. Anyway, I'll show you the whore, I think she's Plutonian, she doesn't seem to speak much English, man."
He released his grip from my shirt and spun around, marching to the back room, me following behind, uneasily. I thought of cracking some joke, but I almost felt scared of Doc, I mean, the man truly was crazy, truth be known.
"Knock knock, wench!" said Doc, knocking on the back room door, before entering. He unlocked the door, pistol raised, for who knows what reason. He entered the dusty room with his pistol in front of him. If ever there was a room full of bizarre junk, it was this one. Endless piles of books about war, endless cords, plugs, contraptions, metals, disused mechanical women, posters of Hitler, and also heavy metal tapestries.
I heard a soft moaning and squinted my eyes at a shape at the end of the room, sitting in a chair. We stepped closer. An almost beautiful, naked, brown haired woman sat in that chair, with ropes all around her and a ball gag in her mouth.
"You see, man?" said Doc. "This is the bitch. She probably wanted to spread her disease to me, but I can tell she's infected with something. Here's a magnifying glass, now look in her crotch."
He handed me the magnifying glass. I thought this was quite wrong, but I lowered the glass to the woman's naked cunt. I looked closer and noticed some small things burrowing around in the hairs.
"Marcoreules," said Doc. "It's a new strain of bug, known to live exclusively in pussy hairs. I think it was brought here by Pluto whores. Goddamn, who would have thought that space travel would bring such nasty things? I guess whores are everywhere, even way out there in space, man."
"You are a sick, sick man" I said, "but you've got a point. Anyway, let's get this experiment going, before I lose my nerve. Hey, lady, what language do you speak?"
"She speaks Plutonian, which is the most bizarre language I've heard," said Doc. "Here, let me show you."
He removed the ball gag with expert hands.
"What do you say, woman?" he asked tauntingly.
"Yeeearrrghhh nzephtrhen noodintrophentuphtonktery fermendinzin noopthrendath!" she chocked out.
"Perhaps this is some curse she's throwing at us?" I asked jokingly.
"Could be," said Doc.
The woman really didn't "say" anything after that, she just squealed and screeched like some nightmare bird.
"So where is this goddamn invention?" I asked. I was getting impatient and felt nauseated.
"It's in the main room, man, though I shoved the thing in back, past all the book shelves. Let's do this. Hail Hitler!"
"Oh yeah, sieg heil!" I said sarcastically.
The chair had wheels at the bottom. Doc got behind and shoved it out of that dusty back room. I went ahead to the main room, looking at all the boots, weapons and assorted shit. I walked past the book shelves and there it was. It looked very simple, nothing more than four poles, about two feet high and this weird, shimmering metal screen attached on top. I reached out my hand to touch the metal screen, until I heard the creaking wheels and Doc shout:
"Don't fucking touch that! Not yet! Do you know what would happen if only one piece of your body entered it? Your hand only would shrink. When you enter, you have to dive, headfirst. The motion has to be fluid, think of diving into a pool, man."
So I pulled my hand back.
Squawk squawk, shriek shriek, yell yell, screech screech went the Pluto woman, squirming in her chair. Not many Pluto women had been imported to earth yet, so this was new to me, the first one I had seen. She was quite sexy, if only she didn't make that horrible noise and wasn't diseased.
"Now!" burst out doc. "I'm going to get a ladder and unleash the whore, attempt to get her to spread her legs. Also, you will need to be properly armed when you enter her pussy hair jungle, and believe me, it will be a jungle, as you will be the smallest creature in existence. And you have no clue how difficult it was to create that screen. I spent years and years on it, in secret. I'll be back."
Doc walked away, leaving the squirming woman there, and me standing by this weird invention. After a couple of minutes Doc came marching back, nudging a tall ladder on rolling wheels along with his boot, arms loaded with all kinds of crap....shotguns, machine guns, bullet belts, and a metal helmet. I already was equipped with shoulder fur pads and combat boots, but I suppose that wouldn't be enough for this adventure. Doc dropped (accidentally or recklessly?) all the weapons on the wooden floor, making a real racket. He pushed the ladder in place with his hands, at the end of the metal screen. The metal screen on poles was about fifteen by ten feet long. Doc grabbed up a remote control thing from the shit he'd dropped on the floor, adjusting some buttons and controls on it. The woman continued to squirm.
"Now," said Doc, "this remote control activates the metal screen. I'm going to turn it on, unleash the whore, get her in proper position, and you dive, aiming for her snatch. Oh, yes! Hold on, I have a surprise for you!"
Doc waltzed away, into the back room. Just then I had the thought of whipping out my cock and shoving it in the Pluto woman's face, on a whim. Fuck that, I thought on second thought. Doc snuck up behind me.
"The real fucking thing!" he yelled in my ear. I jumped (what if I had those new boots on, would my head fly through the ceiling?) and spun around. Doc was brandishing a shiny sword.
"I pulled this off a dead gook!" he went on. "Back in Viet Nam, man. I've always kept this baby, and now it's yours. You can chop your way through lots of rubbish and pussy jungles with this."
He handed it to me. He placed bullet belts around my neck and handed me also a machine gun, shotgun and put the metal helmet on my head.
"Now you're ready to rock!" he said enthusiastically. "Oh, wait! The new boots! You gotta get those things off and try out my new ones!"
Doc ran off again. He came back only a five seconds later and threw the boots at my feet. I leaned down, pulled off my boots and put on the new ones.
"Can these things really launch me up to fifteen feet?" I asked doubtfully.
"Of course! If I can shrink you down, couldn't I create such boots? You'll know when you dive off that ladder! Now, get yourself up there, while I get the whore into place, man"
I wasn't even really thinking now, what I was getting myself into. I just wanted to try this experiment and deal with whatever came my way. I climbed up the ladder, feeling weighted down by all the weapons and bullet belts I was wearing, but it wasn't too bad, as I was in pretty decent shape. I got to the top of the ladder and stepped out onto the wooden platform, looking down at the contraption. It didn't look like much. I saw Doc below me untie the woman, slap her and shove her under the thing. She squirmed and flapped her arms about, shrieking. Just then Doc pulled this huge roll of tape out and started strapping the woman down to the floor with it, crossing it over her stomach and neck. I guess the tape was super strong, as the woman could not move much after that. It seemed the woman was in the proper place now and my dive would take me safely to her vagina if I aimed right. Doc backed away and shouted up at me:
"Okay! Now all is ready! You just dive as best you can. Here, now I am activating the screen! Dive when you're ready!"
I looked down at the now activated metal screen, and it was just bizarre. All kinds of weird colors were swirling around, misty like. I could barely see the woman outlined below. I gathered up all my courage (and suicidal recklessness?) and jumped as if I were jumping into a pool of water from a diving board. I was quite surprised, I had forgotten about these new boots and I went flying up in the air, fifteen feet or not, I'm not sure, but way up, then I went into diving formation, head straight down, thinking my face was going to smash into solid metal. But it didn't....I felt my body zapped and electrocuted from all over, and as if I was being sucked into something. I felt an incredible rush of adrenaline, my heart racing, my head buzzing. Then I saw the squirming woman beneath me, looking up with fear and hatred in her eyes...an almost alien looking woman, which was true. All the sensations in my body ceased abruptly and I was simply plummeting earthward (or pussyward?). I saw huge strands of brown hair coming into view, closer and closer. And beyond the brown strands, a pink landscape. Suddenly I dropped into such strands, and it was a horrible tangle, yet I kept sliding down, trying to find grips. Now I was in an upright position, sliding down a brown hair, wondering when I'd ever reach the bottom. It seemed endless. Finally I crashed to the bottom, the sword flying out of my hand. I scrambled to my feet and retrieved it from about five paces away. I stoop up and looked around. I certainly was in a jungle, nothing but brown strands of hair shooting up hundreds of yards, and there were about six foot spaces in between them. Impulsively, I started slashing down the strands with my sword. I chopped several down and waited. Then I heard awful crashing noises as the hairs toppled like falling, gigantic trees. A shower of soft, brown rocks sprayed down on me, one hitting me on the head, causing an awful headache. So this must be the Pluto woman's vagina hairs, after all. Now that I thought of it, this whole experiment seemed stupid and pointless, yet an adventure all the same. I decided not to chop down any more hairs unless necessary. I braced myself for any peril and marched on, walking for many hours, finding nothing but the same pussy hairs, mile after mile of them. Suddenly I heard a strange rumbling sound...and growling noises. I couldn't tell how far away it was, but it seemed to be getting closer. Now I started getting scared, realizing what an idiot I was to get in this mess and trust Doc. I stood where I was and waited, frozen. The rumbling and groaning noises got louder and louder, suddenly becoming what would sound like a stampede of rhino's. I raised my sword and got in battle stance. Suddenly the hairs in front of me crashed down as monstrous, white, hairy lice creatures swarmed around me. I started slashing maniacally left and right, chopping off limbs and stabbing through necks. These monsters stood at about seven feet tall and were white, hairy blobs with four limbs. Their eyes were tiny, black, menacing slits. Then I realized they weren't so fast at all, but rather slow and sluggish, and their teeth may have been sharp and long, but I managed to avoid them. Purple, yellowish blood splashed all over me as I maimed and killed them. I got tired of using the sword, so I whipped out my machine gun and cranked out some rounds. The bullets slammed into the hairy flesh, splattering blood. I looked around and realized I had killed off all the bugs in the general area, but more could come at any moment.
"Having a good time down there, Dan?" I heard from above me.
The question was deafening. It was Doc. I looked up and saw a huge glint or glare. It must be Doc's magnifying glass. Of course it was useless to answer as Doc would not hear me. But why couldn't I hear the strange woman screaming or squirming? Maybe Doc had ball gagged her again? Hmm, if only I could ask him. And then I realized that I was at the mercy of Doc, it was up to him to get me out of this. He could leave me here if he wanted, me forever walking through strange, foreign lands of vagina hairs. And suppose I ever got off of the woman's body? I would surely be stepped upon by some visitor to Doc's Army Surplus, or perhaps a spider or ant would devour me alive. And how was that damn gizmo he talked about going to work and turn me back to my normal size? And how would he even see me? And then it hit me....if Doc used the thing on me, it might make the Pluto woman's pussy hairs (or whole body?) even larger! Who knows how large she would become?
And then the thing happened. I saw the magnifying glass come closer from above, and a huge eyeball squinting from behind it. Then I saw gigantic teeth appear. Doc grinning. I saw some gigantic gadget and saw a huge bolt of electricity shoot out. The brown strands of hair around me ignited. I felt I was being electrocuted once again. As if in the blink of an eye, I was suddenly my same size again, feeling dizzy and sick, reeling. I really wish I wasn't hungover. I fell forward, crashing into Doc's open arms. I felt I was going to pass out. I looked up and saw the look on Doc's face, something I'd never seen before. He was looking behind me. I spun around on my knees and saw it. The Pluto woman....was now gigantic, and she had burst through her tape straps and ripped off the (now tiny) ball gag on her face. Suddenly she emitted a bestial wailing, shrieking noise, like some nightmare raven of Satan's graveyard. Her pussy hairs shot out and whipped around the room, knocking over bookshelves and other junk. Doc and I tried to run for the door, to get the hell out of there, but the hairs circled around us, like a giant snake, crushing us. Then we were being pulled into her vagina (of doom). Her clit quivered and opened up, a huge hole. Teeth shot out of the sides of the hole, sharp incisors. As we were pulled in, the teeth clamped shut. Never trust a Plutonian woman.
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astralvesl



Joined: 13 Oct 2010
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PostPosted: Sat Jan 07, 2012 5:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I don't see much Bukowski in this. I think people just see curse words in a casual style and immediately jump to him. People often do the same thing with Palanuik (spelling?). That said, the writing itself is poor. I couldn't really get past that to comment on the substance, which means that the substance wasn't overtly compelling on its own. So yea, if you really care, study the english language, read Heart of Darkness 50 times, etc...
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probert



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PostPosted: Sat Jan 07, 2012 6:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

astralvesl wrote:
I don't see much Bukowski in this. I think people just see curse words in a casual style and immediately jump to him. People often do the same thing with Palanuik (spelling?). That said, the writing itself is poor. I couldn't really get past that to comment on the substance, which means that the substance wasn't overtly compelling on its own. So yea, if you really care, study the english language, read Heart of Darkness 50 times, etc...


i havent read anything else except the first one but if you dont think this is straight out of the bukowski playbook you havent read much bukowski.

Quote:
Lester Bernard arose from a peaceful slumber at six a.m. Or rather he raised his body slightly after a night of insomnia. At the age of thirty five he was doing just great, there was not a single thing to complain about. His hairline had receded to the back of his head, his moustache was turning gray, his hemorrhoids were flaring up like a stick of dynamite, causing him to take three hour shits and bleed from his asshole. His ringworms and lice on his head were rather pleasant.
His wife Marie came into his room, holding a cup of steaming cup of coffee. She was in her early thirties, with dirt and grease stained, black hair, cum stained, food stained, tattered skirt, and one breast had popped out of her oversized bra. Said tit had a patch of hair around the nipple.


i mean its 10th rate stuff but that is 100% bukowski worship whether intentional or not.
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Iron Lord



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PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 1:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Fuck Bukowski. Only John Fante is real.
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Some guys, including capricornus, read gay porn mags in front of him and threatened to rape him afterwards. It was said that he locked himself up in a bedroom, crying...
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Zombie Dance



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PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 2:27 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Here's a famous story here :
Tere's a penguin who breathes through his ass.
One day he sat and so he died.
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pataphysicien



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PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 5:48 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

blewcheer wrote:
pataphysicien wrote:
Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.

Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them breaks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.

I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theater of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 07840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.

There can be only one.


This was really good, too.


cheers! though I can't take credit for glorious copypasta Wink
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blewcheer



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PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 7:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

pataphysicien wrote:
blewcheer wrote:
pataphysicien wrote:
Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.

Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them breaks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.

I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theater of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 07840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.

There can be only one.


This was really good, too.


cheers! though I can't take credit for glorious copypasta Wink


Bah! Should have claimed it, none of us would have known. So if not you, then who? I'd be interested in reading more of what they've written.
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Stalinorgel
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Joined: 08 Aug 2011
Posts: 2636

PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 7:20 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

http://lmgtfy.com/?q=Whenever+I+get+a+package+of+plain+M%26Ms%2C+I+make+it+my+duty+to+continue+the+strength+and+robustness+of+the+candy+as+a+species.+
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blewcheer



Joined: 02 May 2010
Posts: 4866

PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 7:26 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Stalinorgel wrote:
http://lmgtfy.com/?q=Whenever+I+get+a+package+of+plain+M%26Ms%2C+I+make+it+my+duty+to+continue+the+strength+and+robustness+of+the+candy+as+a+species.+


http://lmgtfy.com/?q=Obnoxious+forum+asshole
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jerry666



Joined: 02 Dec 2009
Posts: 1089
Location: centerline-michigan

PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 12:08 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Iron Lord wrote:
Fuck Bukowski. Only John Fante is real.
knut hamsun then henry miller then john fante who all inspired ole "hank" bukowski
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Blutkvlt



Joined: 25 Feb 2010
Posts: 6414
Location: latino wizards guild

PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 1:27 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

and then he farted and then poop came out of his butt and his wife that had really ugly boobs ate it and sadi mmm mmm i love poop so good and he said thank you and they like made out and it was really gross because there was poop on there faces and they got poop on each other

THE
END
_________________
under a funeral shroom wrote:
I wish, I think Chris Barnes would be much more likely to be a guest on that Guy Fieri show.
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blewcheer



Joined: 02 May 2010
Posts: 4866

PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 1:33 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Blutkvlt wrote:
and then he farted and then poop came out of his butt and his wife that had really ugly boobs ate it and sadi mmm mmm i love poop so good and he said thank you and they like made out and it was really gross because there was poop on there faces and they got poop on each other

THE
END


Wonderful! You should start a thread based on this brilliance.
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N.



Joined: 05 Jun 2011
Posts: 1196

PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 3:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

probert wrote:
astralvesl wrote:
I don't see much Bukowski in this. I think people just see curse words in a casual style and immediately jump to him. People often do the same thing with Palanuik (spelling?). That said, the writing itself is poor. I couldn't really get past that to comment on the substance, which means that the substance wasn't overtly compelling on its own. So yea, if you really care, study the english language, read Heart of Darkness 50 times, etc...


i havent read anything else except the first one but if you dont think this is straight out of the bukowski playbook you havent read much bukowski.

Quote:
Lester Bernard arose from a peaceful slumber at six a.m. Or rather he raised his body slightly after a night of insomnia. At the age of thirty five he was doing just great, there was not a single thing to complain about. His hairline had receded to the back of his head, his moustache was turning gray, his hemorrhoids were flaring up like a stick of dynamite, causing him to take three hour shits and bleed from his asshole. His ringworms and lice on his head were rather pleasant.
His wife Marie came into his room, holding a cup of steaming cup of coffee. She was in her early thirties, with dirt and grease stained, black hair, cum stained, food stained, tattered skirt, and one breast had popped out of her oversized bra. Said tit had a patch of hair around the nipple.


i mean its 10th rate stuff but that is 100% bukowski worship whether intentional or not.


Damnit Probert, when I wrote this story Charles Bukowski wasn't in my mind at all.
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N.



Joined: 05 Jun 2011
Posts: 1196

PostPosted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 3:58 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

And you naysaying critics, please write and post something better!
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