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Random Thought Thread Part III: The Thinking

Started by ER, September 30, 2021, 01:18:27 PM

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chainsaw midget

Quote from: RCMerchant on February 05, 2024, 10:44:16 AM
^ I know the feeling. I'm 61 and should have died decades ago.
Would it make you feel better or worse if I said that I thought you were older than that?

Trevor

Quote from: HappyGilmore on February 05, 2024, 11:14:47 AM
Quote from: RCMerchant on February 05, 2024, 10:44:16 AM
^ I know the feeling. I'm 61 and should have died decades ago.
I'm glad you're here, RC

Me too 😊☺️🐢😊😊🐢
We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness.

LilCerberus

"it's all got me thinking about the couple of times in my youth when I was hit by cars, or all the times I fell off my motorcycle, only to shrug it off, & then have arthritis & sciatica hit me out of the blue.... I had to quit rehab, 'cause that only made it worse...
Hope you get better, HG!^
"Science Fiction & Nostalgia have become the same thing!" - T Bone Burnett
The world runs off money, even for those with a warped sense of what the world is.

ER

I must admit, I think often about these verses from Matthew 25:


42 "For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink,

43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.'

44 "They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?'

45 "He will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'"



I think that our species does a miserable job of looking out for one another.
What does not kill me makes me stranger.

RCMerchant

Quote from: chainsaw midget on February 05, 2024, 12:20:44 PM
Quote from: RCMerchant on February 05, 2024, 10:44:16 AM
^ I know the feeling. I'm 61 and should have died decades ago.
Would it make you feel better or worse if I said that I thought you were older than that?

Neither. I could care less.
"Supernatural?...perhaps. Baloney?...Perhaps not!" Bela Lugosi-the BLACK CAT (1934)
Interviewer-"Does Dracula ever end for you?
Lugosi-"No. Dracula-never ends."

Slobber, Drool, Drip!
https://www.tumblr.com/ronmerchant

HappyGilmore

Not so 'random' but randomly I found out that the Hershey family from Pennsylvania known for their chocolate confectioneries and theme park are in no way and boldly proclaim to not be related to the Hershey family from Pennsylvania known for their ice cream treats and deserts.

Despite the fact that Hershey's chocolate out of the can/bottle goes perfectly well with the ice cream.

Just me, but you'd think they'd team up.  :lookingup: :cheers:
"The path to Heaven runs through miles of clouded Hell."

Don't get too close, it's dark inside.
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide.

RCMerchant

I remember back in the 90's buying this magazine every month-

"Supernatural?...perhaps. Baloney?...Perhaps not!" Bela Lugosi-the BLACK CAT (1934)
Interviewer-"Does Dracula ever end for you?
Lugosi-"No. Dracula-never ends."

Slobber, Drool, Drip!
https://www.tumblr.com/ronmerchant

HappyGilmore

That magazine looks cool.  I wasn't much into metal then, but did buy some Fangoria. I was into Horror and MAD magazine.
"The path to Heaven runs through miles of clouded Hell."

Don't get too close, it's dark inside.
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide.

RCMerchant

 ^I still got 100's of monster mags and lotsa MADS! Most from the 60's and 70's.
"Supernatural?...perhaps. Baloney?...Perhaps not!" Bela Lugosi-the BLACK CAT (1934)
Interviewer-"Does Dracula ever end for you?
Lugosi-"No. Dracula-never ends."

Slobber, Drool, Drip!
https://www.tumblr.com/ronmerchant

Trevor

I remember buying Fangoria monthly in the late 80s: I proposed that the library I did my training in purchase it for the makeup students to get ideas from but the chief librarian said the mag was "satanic" 😒😑
We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness.

ER

There's nothing sure except death, taxes, and exiting through the gift shop.
What does not kill me makes me stranger.

Alex

Quote from: ER on February 08, 2024, 01:51:07 PM
There's nothing sure except death, taxes, and exiting through the gift shop.

You can escape taxes. I avoided them until I was 25, and could have kept doing so by working cash-in-hand jobs. If you can get out of that one I feel getting past death must be easy by comparison.
Your kisses turn princes into frogs and passion plays into monologues.

ER

Quote from: Alex on February 08, 2024, 02:03:46 PM
Quote from: ER on February 08, 2024, 01:51:07 PM
There's nothing sure except death, taxes, and exiting through the gift shop.

You can escape taxes. I avoided them until I was 25, and could have kept doing so by working cash-in-hand jobs. If you can get out of that one I feel getting past death must be easy by comparison.

Yeah, but all roads still lead through those gift shops....
What does not kill me makes me stranger.

lester1/2jr

Remember how Pope John Paul hung on way too long?

ER

I was thinking today there just don't seem to be as many characters around as there used to be.

By that I mean those wonderfully colorful sorts of about sixty-five you'd see in plaid flannel shirts sitting on the bench at a bus stop, though they weren't actually planning on getting on a bus, and there they'd tell a single hours-long story to whoever was willing to stay near them, relating their war experiences, or bending ears about how the price of hamburger was so high they'd switched to grilling out on Labor Day with ground pork, or how Pete Rose belonged in the gawddam Hall of Fame no matter what the big shots said.

Or there used to be the fellow who would come out of the corner bar and walk up to you without any preamble and tell you he once saw Marilyn Monroe riding by in a limousine with Bobby Kennedy when he was a busboy at an oyster bar on Cape Cod, and Marilyn looked right at him, those beautiful eyes of hers lingering on his own for a pair of heartbeats, just a few months before they found her dead, and when he heard she was gone, he had to struggle not to weep as he remembered that night, knowing in his heart the Kennedy family did her in. And then after telling you this, as if it boiled in his soul to get his claim to fame out of him so it could live on in someone else, he'd walk off into the pregnant darkness of the night.

Seems like when I was little in the '80s those types were all around, then it occurred to me they have been supplanted by their successors, who have traded park benches and personal memories for keyboards and conspiracy theories, posting ratiocinations about how the King of England is a lizard, or how 9-11 was done by time travelers, or a politician they didn't like was kept alive by daily transfusions of bigfoot blood.

Who'd ever have thought one day cyberspace would make the characters of the world an endangered species?
What does not kill me makes me stranger.