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| [ARCHIVED] - P&P - Static Burst; Random Info Posts | |
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| Topic Started: Friday, 1. May 2015, 12:49 (195 Views) | |
| Graham Mason | Friday, 1. May 2015, 12:49 Post #1 |
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Steak Tartare (YODO)
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ATTN: Alice. Comes from: here.[avatar=http://static.rogerebert.com/redactor_assets/pictures/scanners/psycho-murder-in-close-up-without-bodies/bath5.jpg][alias=Eyes of Chaos] A fine mist of SANDPAPER FLOWERS crawls through the ankles of those who dare remaining on the ground. Fly, you fools! You have to fly! For the subtle threads of destiny weigh as chains, dragging you all to hell. Mistrust and enthusiasm corrupting each other in an off tempo waltz that makes them circle in waves of misplaced joy. Big dome don't touch; broad shoulders don't speak; crude rules don't follow; war hero less than zero. His commanding voice, his aura of authority, his proud stride, all long to cover up for the hollow reality that creeps inside, all banging on the door of his own bestiality, barely muzzled by endless piles of rules, and more rules. WAKE UP! YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD! GIVE UP! YOU ARE NOT A TROUT! Assume the position, hands to your feet, bloat your chest, get ready for the ramming. You can trust me. Vote for me. Wet sand. Lots and lots of wet sand. From high up in the sky, it all looks small and insignificant. The sand forms images of the orphan deer, engaged in a large orgy of blood and gore with other puppets that are not relevant. The dear deer likes collecting things - collecting parts of other puppets. GIVE ME MY SHARE OF THINGS! I DEMAND IT! IT IS MY BIRTH RIGHT! I AM ROYALTY! The murky sand is covering something that is shiny, but not something that is warm and comforting. It is an ivory shine and feels cold and detached, similar to a treasure with the essence of death buried beneath the sand. In the images, the psychedelic deer is in a state of constant euphoria, and there is something else: an entity that is constantly over her horned head, directing her every vulgar action. And there is a surprise on the way, something that shatters the mirrors of self indulgence, only to place a bigger, and more deceiving mirror in front of her. The snake with one eye. A massive living and walking set of male genitalia, staring at the world from the output hole, combing its curly head garment in self devotion. The phallic monster clings to a long lost feeling of live, of something that was not only long lost, but also despised by the whole world around them. Ah, the glorious irony of those who desperately try to hold on to the very things they can't even invoke back. LET GO! YOU ARE A MASSIVE STICK IN THE MUD, AND THE MUD IS NOT MOANING FOR YOU! RIDICULOUS FOOL, YOU ARE ADORABLY EASY TO MURDER! Animal mamushka drags his puppy pet around, like a double act in a small town circus. There is a box within a box within a box within a box within a box. A cat owns the boxes. The cat could be alive, dead, or both things at the same time, depending on who gets to open the next box. The boxes are bigger and bigger, the more you open them. It is paradoxical, and certainly ridiculous. Jerky perky fakey takey, doggy foggy Roger Moore. Who will tell him that he's done? LET ME DO IT! I WANT TO SCRUB MY FEET WITH HIS LIVER! ME! ME! ME! Hey piggy... Majestic plurality of decadent dissociation; the bull that gets bullied by the bold. Nobody ever imagined that there was a MIND OF HER OWN, BECAUSE WE ARE WOMEN AND WE CAN inside that repugnant head. Turns out, everybody always underestimate the thing that they should overestimate. After a layer of unflattering appearance of incompetence, lies another layer of evident ability and skill, a layer that sets the record straight and attempts to justify the failure of our justice system. What nobody ever does is scratching beneath that layer, because they all know that they will find the same old incompetence back again. Sad. Depressing. Hysterical. Destiny pushes the brave and the wild towards the edge of the abyss, and then it keeps on pushing. There is no way destiny will soften its grip, or stop pushing. Like popcorn, they are to jump in the pan, demanding butter with frowny indignation. |
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Oh no! My souffle! "Words", stress level, "MetaMason", "THEVOICEOFREASON" | |
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| Graham Mason | Wednesday, 7. September 2016, 21:23 Post #2 |
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Steak Tartare (YODO)
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This mini quest has been officially [ARCHIVED] Please, contact the Mods if it should be opened again for any reason. |
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Oh no! My souffle! "Words", stress level, "MetaMason", "THEVOICEOFREASON" | |
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1:57 AM Jul 11