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Author Topic: Make A Random Statement About Something Nobody Should Care About  (Read 122606 times)
Zapranoth
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« Reply #600 on: May 01, 2017, 01:59:30 AM »

Keep hearing the lyric in "Under Pressure" as

"Turned away from it all like a blind man
Sat on a bench, like a dumbf**k."

You are welcome.
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LilCerberus
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« Reply #601 on: May 02, 2017, 03:56:23 PM »

Does anybody know if I need a special kind of permit for a FLIR camera?
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"Science Fiction & Nostalgia have become the same thing!" - T Bone Burnett
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LilCerberus
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« Reply #602 on: May 03, 2017, 06:14:33 PM »

I just bought a brush axe on Ebay... It's kinda like a kaiser blade, or a ditch bank blade... Now, My Ebay feed is recommending bridal gown accessories...
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"Science Fiction & Nostalgia have become the same thing!" - T Bone Burnett
Normal is what people are until you get to know them.
 http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL237DD523F8E60B95 http://www.imdb.com/name/nm5549321/ https://youtu.be/gigNjm-u-ZA
LilCerberus
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« Reply #603 on: May 04, 2017, 10:23:53 AM »

National Star Wars Day!
How come I didn't get the memo?
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"Science Fiction & Nostalgia have become the same thing!" - T Bone Burnett
Normal is what people are until you get to know them.
 http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL237DD523F8E60B95 http://www.imdb.com/name/nm5549321/ https://youtu.be/gigNjm-u-ZA
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters.


« Reply #604 on: May 04, 2017, 03:10:02 PM »

National Star Wars Day!
How come I didn't get the memo?

Dunno, man, I gave it to Jar-Jar to give to you and said take it right straight over...what could go wrong with that?
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Das was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich noch merkwŁrdiger. (What does not kill me makes me stranger.)
LilCerberus
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« Reply #605 on: May 04, 2017, 05:41:07 PM »

@NancyPelosi Did ya ever ask where people like me are gonna come up with $1,400 a year?
How in the Hell is this a "Tax Break For The Rich?"

BTW, It's also National Prayer Day...
At least one of mine was answered!
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"Science Fiction & Nostalgia have become the same thing!" - T Bone Burnett
Normal is what people are until you get to know them.
 http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL237DD523F8E60B95 http://www.imdb.com/name/nm5549321/ https://youtu.be/gigNjm-u-ZA
LilCerberus
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« Reply #606 on: May 04, 2017, 09:04:54 PM »

Okay... I need to learn to distinguish conifers...
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"Science Fiction & Nostalgia have become the same thing!" - T Bone Burnett
Normal is what people are until you get to know them.
 http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL237DD523F8E60B95 http://www.imdb.com/name/nm5549321/ https://youtu.be/gigNjm-u-ZA
Flangepart
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« Reply #607 on: May 05, 2017, 01:33:43 PM »

I dont' trust conifers...they talk behind your back, then spread your secrets Allll over the forest.
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"Aggressivlly eccentric, and proud of it!"
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters.


« Reply #608 on: May 06, 2017, 11:55:16 AM »

I dont' trust conifers...they talk behind your back, then spread your secrets Allll over the forest.

So conifers are like the teenage girls of the forest, eh?
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Das was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich noch merkwŁrdiger. (What does not kill me makes me stranger.)
ER
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Karma: 931
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters.


« Reply #609 on: May 06, 2017, 12:28:47 PM »


Today is Kentucky Derby day, which means just one thing in my life: my uncle's party.

I guess he's not really my uncle, since he was married to my father's second-oldest sister, my (least favorite) aunt, and they got divorced years ago, but he is two of my cousins' father, and a really nice guy, so he invites us each year, and usually we go.

He invariably greets us at his door, beams ear to ear with a warm smile, tells us how happy he is we're there, and I wear an oversized hat, discreetly hang out, see the famous people he's also invited, big-wigs among Democrats, their hands always out for contributions-cum-bribes, some surprisingly upper-echelon celebrities sometimes, my uncle's Dorian Gray wife, who ages perhaps even less each year than my supernatural mother does (honestly, try being her daughter and having to live up to this woman who is almost freaking sixty and gets mistaken for my sister, I'm proud of her but it gets old....she is not normal, I tell you).

I think today he has a tribute for his late pseudo-friend John Glenn coming, complete with a Marine Corps band, which is a nice touch. In his younger days John Glenn would play golf with my uncle, my uncle would write him fat campaign checks and get certain metaphorical doors opened for him, get his radio stations licensed a little faster. It's how it works in that 1% of American life most people truly don't believe even exists, yet does....oh, how it does.

My cousin, who is much like an older sister to me in many ways----she used to try to scare me off sex and drugs, even as she told me incredibly tantalizing stories about her involvement in both---gets me to choke down a mint julep every Derby day, a foul concoction that makes me feel like my stomach is trying to come out my contorted face. I writhe, she chuckles and tries to hand me another, but, no, one is 100% more than my limit, thanks.

The race itself is a little over two minutes in length, so you have to invent things for people to do the other four hours they're in attendance, too early in the season to swim in this part of the country, even in a heated pool, too wet today to be out on the lawn (because that's what my uncle has "a lawn" not a "yard" like we mere mortals have). So he has a string quartet on hand, loaned out from the local chamber orchestra which he underwrites, a rock band, the aforementioned Marine Corps band, a comic, who knows what else. Plus he'll meet 'n greet, and I don't think any person on the planet, including my aunt, his mean ex-wife (who has a deep grudge against me she's nursed since I let loose with a very public lapse in judgment in 1995) dislikes my uncle in the slightest, he truly is a good soul, generous, kind, friendly, faithful to his wife (though what man wouldn't be, she looks like a supermodel) so the time will be filled in conversation if nothing else. When it's my turn to have a few minutes with him, he'll likely call me this nickname he has since I was little "Ellie Two Shoes" and maybe this will finally be the year I get to the bottom of the mystery of why he's always called me that: doesn't everybody wear two shoes?

My uncle, ex-uncle, never-was-uncle, whatever, let's just say uncle, he makes me laugh and always has. He has an interesting life story. He comes from very old Deep South money, raised Catholic in a city that's 90% Baptist, and moved up here from Alabama to go to college and then stayed around, except the part of the year he lives in Aruba, where his (second) wife, who has citizenship in the Netherlands is more or less from. He barely sounds like he's from Alabama, except when he wants to, talking as he sometimes does about the football team there, which he calls simply "the Tide" and then he'll affect a nasal-less accent that surely, SURELY does not really exist under the skies of God's blue Earth.

So that's my day, a party at his house, which might properly be called an estate (must be interesting to be so rich) and maybe I'll even manage to see this two minute horse race at the Kentucky Derby party, who knows. In the meantime, I try to smile, stay out of most people's way, and do my best not to gawk at money on display amid people who probably never had to do their own taxes in their whole life.

Poor me, eh?
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Das was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich noch merkwŁrdiger. (What does not kill me makes me stranger.)
ER
Frightening Fanatic of Horrible Cinema
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Karma: 931
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters.


« Reply #610 on: May 07, 2017, 11:11:16 AM »

I went to early morning Mass today with my oldest, who is determined to turn Papist next Easter Vigil, and while I prefer to sit in the back, preferably with a nice assassination-preventing wall behind me (I worry I might get into politics in some twisted future when time travel is invented and a stalker might come for me in the here and now), we always sit up front because the people we meet there seem to want to be close to the altar, and anyway, there is this old lady who sits ahead of us like her name is engraved on the pew, and this cheerfully sweet old dear wears the same hat every week, a hat so big it'd be a bit much even by Kentucky Derby standards---seriously, Cad Bane would say that's a big hat---so it's kind of like a minor contest each Sunday among the six of us to see who winds up behind the hat lady.

Well today it was me, and I was looking forward, 7 AM, mind drifting (sorry about that, Jesus) and I saw out of the corner of my eye that the crown of the hat was...moving. I focused my eyes and atop this hat was a bee walking across the fake flowers above it, mostly hanging on, moving slowly, but, yes, a real live bee.

I was stumped, what to do, interrupt her obvious reverie or risk her getting stung? What if she was allergic? Oh, gosh, scary thought.

I decided I'd watch the bee, and if she (for basically any bee you ever see is female) looked like she was going to fly down onto the old lady, I'd tell the old lady about it.

This vigil went on for probably half the Mass, and this was a High Mass, not one of those wussy little in-and-out weekdays Masses, so we're talking an investment of time here. The lady'd stand up, the bee would hold on. She'd sit, the bee would hold on. She'd kneel (because God cannot hear a sitting Catholic's prayers, just a fact) and the bee would still hang on. Cold morning here for May, so I assume the bee was slow-moving, though perhaps she just liked where she was.

Finally it was the part of the Mass where people assemble to take Communion, and being, according to Catholic reckoning, neck-deep in Mortal Sin, I honor the tradition by not going up and partaking, so I had to watch this old lady with the bee in her bonnet go up and I thought, well if this doesn't make the bee take off, nothing will. But I was wrong, when she came back and knelt down for a meditative moment after eating Jesus up there, I saw there was that determined little six-legger, still on her hat.

By this time I'd taken quite the attachment to the bee and wished her well, and I knew from biology that if I shooed the bee off the lady, likely the bee would be unable to find her way back to her hive, so I decided since the insect had done its human host no harm for the past hour, chances were it might be all right after that on the homeward drive.

So the Mass ended ("...go in peace to love and serve the Lord...." "....thanks be to God....") and I watched the sweet old dear leave church and I can only hope she transported the bee all the way back home where she flew off with a story for her sisters in the colony somewhere on the east side of town, and that my apis-friendly decision did not result in the old lady getting stung in route and causing a massive ten-car pileup as she writhed in shock at her sudden burning agony.

My morning thus far: playing God.
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Das was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich noch merkwŁrdiger. (What does not kill me makes me stranger.)
ER
Frightening Fanatic of Horrible Cinema
****

Karma: 931
Posts: 6141


The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters.


« Reply #611 on: May 08, 2017, 09:55:00 AM »

Soul-shredding evening yesterday that made me question everything about myself and my life, sat up thinking almost all night and that segued into a bad morning capped by a downer conversation, still went into work today, got b***hed at by my boss, almost quit, haven't so far because he was technically right, keep thinking, though, that there is a constant offer for another job I could take for easily triple the money although with someone with whom I have a deeply weird personal history, I also find myself wanting to tell off my father for ruining my life by setting me on a bad career path when I was seventeen, I'm also married to someone who is either doing something altruistic or damning and which is now drawing in our oldest daughter which is getting deeply into my head today, and I keep wondering, I really, really keep wondering, is it morally wrong to be angry at a dying person at the heart of much of this, even if she has never exactly wronged me?
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Das was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich noch merkwŁrdiger. (What does not kill me makes me stranger.)
javakoala
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« Reply #612 on: May 08, 2017, 05:09:26 PM »

Soul-shredding evening yesterday that made me question everything about myself and my life, sat up thinking almost all night and that segued into a bad morning capped by a downer conversation, still went into work today, got b***hed at by my boss, almost quit, haven't so far because he was technically right, keep thinking, though, that there is a constant offer for another job I could take for easily triple the money although with someone with whom I have a deeply weird personal history, I also find myself wanting to tell off my father for ruining my life by setting me on a bad career path when I was seventeen, I'm also married to someone who is either doing something altruistic or damning and which is now drawing in our oldest daughter which is getting deeply into my head today, and I keep wondering, I really, really keep wondering, is it morally wrong to be angry at a dying person at the heart of much of this, even if she has never exactly wronged me?

If the person is manipulating events, then, hell yes, be angry at them. If the events are unfolding without manipulation, then be angry at the situation.

If someone is dying, it does NOT give them the right to control others.
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ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters.


« Reply #613 on: May 08, 2017, 11:53:30 PM »

I hate insomnia.
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Das was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich noch merkwŁrdiger. (What does not kill me makes me stranger.)
Rev. Powell
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« Reply #614 on: May 09, 2017, 07:51:21 AM »

I hate insomnia.

Me too. Just the thought of insomnia keeps me up at night.
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