That's right, i got busy. and i forgot all about you. Oh well, not much has changed, but i will keep you updated with interesting events as they happen....
they have yet to happen by the way.
take care, i might be changing this up here in a bit, just so ya know (:
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Cats....
Meet my cats, Max and Charlie. These two hombres are my very good friends, but... they seem to be alot, uh... friendlier with, each other...
feel free to add your own caption. I still can't believe I walked in on this... feline gay-o-thon.
 |
| "If I keep this up, I'll turn this rim-job into a career!!" |
One line at a time...
I'm a huge fan of creativity, especially when it involves a great number of people over a period of time, and nothing would bring me more pleasure than starting a JAGULARD storytime special: One line at a time.
The rules are from the school yard, simple as can be: you get one line to continue the story, no matter how ridiculous it may be, as long as it doesn't end. I don't care if you post another line, as long as it's at least ten posts, or five days later. You can be sick, you can be funny, you can do pretty much whatever. No kiddie porn nonsense, no racial cracks (<---haha, like that one), and i reserve the right to remove any post I deem too awful and offending for the filthy trash we have here. Other than that, let the story time begin!!!
Here, I'll start:
Like a cancer, eating away at the fleshy cavity inside her nose, still bleeding from what she could only assume was shit coke mixed with powdered sugar and glass, Jen exclaimed: that bitch Lashaun had fucked her over for the LAST time.
The rules are from the school yard, simple as can be: you get one line to continue the story, no matter how ridiculous it may be, as long as it doesn't end. I don't care if you post another line, as long as it's at least ten posts, or five days later. You can be sick, you can be funny, you can do pretty much whatever. No kiddie porn nonsense, no racial cracks (<---haha, like that one), and i reserve the right to remove any post I deem too awful and offending for the filthy trash we have here. Other than that, let the story time begin!!!
Here, I'll start:
Like a cancer, eating away at the fleshy cavity inside her nose, still bleeding from what she could only assume was shit coke mixed with powdered sugar and glass, Jen exclaimed: that bitch Lashaun had fucked her over for the LAST time.
J.Lards: J-Lo+cellulite=YOU!
I noticed, and the name has been changed for anonymity, but "rabbit3058" had mentioned the apparent lack of a "like" button.
Do i look like a millionaire to you? Do I? take a look at that picture there, and give that some thought....... yeah... I thought not. That 'like' shit's for those big league guys like Tom and Rupert or whatever the fuck his name is. Mark... something. Anyway, as much of a cop out that shit is, likes and dislikes and thumbs all stickin up our asses, it would be nice if there was a way to let someone know you appreciate the work and thought and creative shooting of the wad they put into their site... a way to put all that praise or hatred into words so the author could enjoy it, or receive the mental murderous mind fuck of telling them they suck on a daily basis. but how? how could you do such a complex task, i mean, this is 1987 people, there has to..... be....... aaaa.... oh, wait, it's 2010. and we have: the internet. and there's this little thing called: leaving a comment, something I'm fairly certain has been around for years. something the vast majority of people should be quite accustom to. But, no. We now have likes and thumbs and stars flying out the window, to relieve the pressure of actually communicating. No fault of yours, but it defiantly hasn't done you any favors in the social world... But never fear, for I am not here to condemn you, but to PRAISE you, and give you the gift: of creative commenting!!! To make up for the lack of a rating or liking system, I've devised a clever way that you could rate the post AND leave a comment as well!
All you do is leave a Comment with the words TIGHT! or LARD! for the five star/like/thumbs up crowd and USED. or FAT-FREE. for the 1 star/dislike/you fuckin suck crowd. and while you're there, you could leave an actual comment as well, but hopefully this will work for you all. I think crowd participation, in any form, is the golden ticket. To comment, you can sign in using your google, live journal, wordpress, openID, type pad or AIM accounts... and i think the google one would work best, cause they're slowly taking over the world anyway.
Further more, give some thought to being a J.Lard as well, cause I'm workin up some good fun to be had here, and i wouldn't want you to miss it!! You'd even get your picture on there, if you so choose! it's another garmonbozia from google, but with a complex name like J.Lards, which took me weeks to come up with, how could you resist? you actually kinda owe me by now. haha... ha... serious.
Or. you could subscribe thru the link AALLLLLLLLL the way at the bottom, that has some nice options for you there, that don't really interest me. Something about ATOMS and VIBES and sexual exploration. Oh My!
Heh. Well my little Lards, i wish you good hunting on your trek thru the Internets today. As for I... I shall take my leave, and lay my weary breasts upon the hay.... or something, i never could Role Play. Someone always ended up fucking a monkey......... oh wait, that was me.
Do i look like a millionaire to you? Do I? take a look at that picture there, and give that some thought....... yeah... I thought not. That 'like' shit's for those big league guys like Tom and Rupert or whatever the fuck his name is. Mark... something. Anyway, as much of a cop out that shit is, likes and dislikes and thumbs all stickin up our asses, it would be nice if there was a way to let someone know you appreciate the work and thought and creative shooting of the wad they put into their site... a way to put all that praise or hatred into words so the author could enjoy it, or receive the mental murderous mind fuck of telling them they suck on a daily basis. but how? how could you do such a complex task, i mean, this is 1987 people, there has to..... be....... aaaa.... oh, wait, it's 2010. and we have: the internet. and there's this little thing called: leaving a comment, something I'm fairly certain has been around for years. something the vast majority of people should be quite accustom to. But, no. We now have likes and thumbs and stars flying out the window, to relieve the pressure of actually communicating. No fault of yours, but it defiantly hasn't done you any favors in the social world... But never fear, for I am not here to condemn you, but to PRAISE you, and give you the gift: of creative commenting!!! To make up for the lack of a rating or liking system, I've devised a clever way that you could rate the post AND leave a comment as well!
All you do is leave a Comment with the words TIGHT! or LARD! for the five star/like/thumbs up crowd and USED. or FAT-FREE. for the 1 star/dislike/you fuckin suck crowd. and while you're there, you could leave an actual comment as well, but hopefully this will work for you all. I think crowd participation, in any form, is the golden ticket. To comment, you can sign in using your google, live journal, wordpress, openID, type pad or AIM accounts... and i think the google one would work best, cause they're slowly taking over the world anyway.
Further more, give some thought to being a J.Lard as well, cause I'm workin up some good fun to be had here, and i wouldn't want you to miss it!! You'd even get your picture on there, if you so choose! it's another garmonbozia from google, but with a complex name like J.Lards, which took me weeks to come up with, how could you resist? you actually kinda owe me by now. haha... ha... serious.
Or. you could subscribe thru the link AALLLLLLLLL the way at the bottom, that has some nice options for you there, that don't really interest me. Something about ATOMS and VIBES and sexual exploration. Oh My!
Heh. Well my little Lards, i wish you good hunting on your trek thru the Internets today. As for I... I shall take my leave, and lay my weary breasts upon the hay.... or something, i never could Role Play. Someone always ended up fucking a monkey......... oh wait, that was me.
why i hate you #3 The Living Ads
Clothes are the only real constant in our history. Breathing, eating, shitting and reproducing are functions, but not clothes. Their purpose is for comfort and not essential survival. However, I love clothes. We all do. They may fit you perfectly, or accentuate every flaw, but you still wouldn't leave the home without them. And lets face it, no one wants to see Granny Smith's Apples at the market, ya know? Before clothes, there were idiots. Ha, not really. It wasn't because of the lack of brain function, but it wasn't integral to their survival. But after so many cold winter's, and close calls with the bears and the balls, it just made sense... at least, i think. God could of zapped them on, or we evolved into fine leather jackets, but at some point, we covered our bodies, and as a people, we never went back. Now, you could say: 'Tribe's all over the world don't wear clothes, and they're a part of the worlds history!' and this would be true. But they're not vomit souled consumers either, and they're defiantly not reading this right now... so lets assume i have a basic idea who my audience is.
Anyway, clothes aren't the real problem here. The company's making the clothes started this, and you just keep fuckin' their wallets, fillin it with the money. At some point in our history, advertisement was born, screaming and crying, and begging for attention. Newspapers, buildings, fliers, billboards... if there was a surface big enough to hold a few words, it was bought, forcing you, me, and everyone (certain tribes and Stonehenge excluded) to view this horrible shit sack every waking moment spent in the world. And as much as i hate this bombardment of consumeristic raping... advertisement isn't the real problem here... but I'm sure you see where I'm going with this.
Clothes are something we shell our money out for, to warm and shelter our flesh, and at times to be pleasing to the eye. Ads are a company's way of getting there point or cause or product out and known to the consuming peoples, and they spend good money to get that ad space. Enter the trickiest suck job ever known:
Somewhere down the line, the clothing company's advertising department tricked us and turned us into walking advertisements. Any and every company you can think of that manufactures T-shirts, jeans, shoes, whatever, has not only convinced you, but you happily accept, to pay them to get a shirt with their name on it. To get their pants, their shoes, anything... some people have become obsessed with buying certain clothes for the name, and not the quality. And you're paying for to be this billboard asshole, walking around as a mobile and socializing ad, and you may look them in the eye for a second, but your fat 'gimme gimme' mind looks down at the words: A&E, Abercrombie, CK, Coach, DKNY, FUBU, Gucci, Haggar, JNCO, Lee, Nike, Puma, and a thousand more, and something inside you then twists towards buying, as either a need to have this, or no fucking way, but it still throws you into consumer mode. Gimme gimme. I could raid your closet and more than likely find one or ten of these. And it's fairly likely you could do the same to me, because it didn't stop at clothing companies either. As i type this, I'm wearing a collector's edition Legend of Zelda, Ocarina of Time T-Shirt I've had since i was twelve. It's torn to shit, faded and stretched at the neck, and for some reason i still choose to put this on over a button up shirt or even other nice plain shirts, why? cause i like Zelda, plain and fucking simple... but this is a perfect example of me (or really my parents) smiling and bending over to pay more of their hard earned money so their child can wear a shirt basically telling others: "look what i have, it's awesome, don't you want it, buy buy buy." Bands, fast food, tele-vangelists and banks. Theirs a shirt for everything now, and YOU have to pay to advertise it to the world for THEM. And whats worse, sometimes more than other's, you pay more just so the company can spend less on advertising. You have become their target and their tool. And that's what i see when i walk out the door, tools.
It's fucking disgusting, this may be a reason why i hate Living Ads, but all i have to do is walk over to the mirror, and I'm sure I'll spot one.
fuck.
Well: This concludes the reasons 'why i hate you', but make sure you check back to read the #1 reason of all. You may scratch your head over my ability to do a rational ordering system, but i saved this one for last cause it will probably piss you off. I can't wait.
Anyway, clothes aren't the real problem here. The company's making the clothes started this, and you just keep fuckin' their wallets, fillin it with the money. At some point in our history, advertisement was born, screaming and crying, and begging for attention. Newspapers, buildings, fliers, billboards... if there was a surface big enough to hold a few words, it was bought, forcing you, me, and everyone (certain tribes and Stonehenge excluded) to view this horrible shit sack every waking moment spent in the world. And as much as i hate this bombardment of consumeristic raping... advertisement isn't the real problem here... but I'm sure you see where I'm going with this.
Clothes are something we shell our money out for, to warm and shelter our flesh, and at times to be pleasing to the eye. Ads are a company's way of getting there point or cause or product out and known to the consuming peoples, and they spend good money to get that ad space. Enter the trickiest suck job ever known:
Somewhere down the line, the clothing company's advertising department tricked us and turned us into walking advertisements. Any and every company you can think of that manufactures T-shirts, jeans, shoes, whatever, has not only convinced you, but you happily accept, to pay them to get a shirt with their name on it. To get their pants, their shoes, anything... some people have become obsessed with buying certain clothes for the name, and not the quality. And you're paying for to be this billboard asshole, walking around as a mobile and socializing ad, and you may look them in the eye for a second, but your fat 'gimme gimme' mind looks down at the words: A&E, Abercrombie, CK, Coach, DKNY, FUBU, Gucci, Haggar, JNCO, Lee, Nike, Puma, and a thousand more, and something inside you then twists towards buying, as either a need to have this, or no fucking way, but it still throws you into consumer mode. Gimme gimme. I could raid your closet and more than likely find one or ten of these. And it's fairly likely you could do the same to me, because it didn't stop at clothing companies either. As i type this, I'm wearing a collector's edition Legend of Zelda, Ocarina of Time T-Shirt I've had since i was twelve. It's torn to shit, faded and stretched at the neck, and for some reason i still choose to put this on over a button up shirt or even other nice plain shirts, why? cause i like Zelda, plain and fucking simple... but this is a perfect example of me (or really my parents) smiling and bending over to pay more of their hard earned money so their child can wear a shirt basically telling others: "look what i have, it's awesome, don't you want it, buy buy buy." Bands, fast food, tele-vangelists and banks. Theirs a shirt for everything now, and YOU have to pay to advertise it to the world for THEM. And whats worse, sometimes more than other's, you pay more just so the company can spend less on advertising. You have become their target and their tool. And that's what i see when i walk out the door, tools.
It's fucking disgusting, this may be a reason why i hate Living Ads, but all i have to do is walk over to the mirror, and I'm sure I'll spot one.
fuck.
Well: This concludes the reasons 'why i hate you', but make sure you check back to read the #1 reason of all. You may scratch your head over my ability to do a rational ordering system, but i saved this one for last cause it will probably piss you off. I can't wait.
Friday, October 8, 2010
why i hate you #2 Txtual Acronyms.
half of every conversation can be boiled down to these horrible short hand atrocities. i can't even hold a conversation (text or instant message) with my mother, without her using at least one.... in every sentence. they've become such a standard in today's 'txtual' society, far surpassing era slang, that there's a fair chance you could hold an entire conversation using only these capitalised word pussies. now, i understand their relevance in business/government/law and porn, because well, ATM, DVDA, DP, TF (Automated Teller Machine, Digital Versatile Disc Audio, Dr. Pepper and Throat Fuck respectively) are more than likely names or proper functions, where LOL, BRB, ROFL, LMFAOSHIDMT is just fucking lazy. Except for that last one... that's fairly funny. But have we become so lazy that we can't write 'in my opinion', cause IM(honest)O, acronyms and shorthand are for lawyers and cigarettes. And hill jacks that still wear their Female Body Inspector hats they won at the fair. I couldn't even begin to list them all, cause a new acronym is shat out every few seconds by the worlds best and brightest bieber fans: OMG, kyle totally AMAH while FMM!!1! AFAIK he also FFTS outta Tara! Well, I'll TTYL, gotta RDWSGBBS! LYL! <3
This may be an irrational and biased P(of)S: but txtual acronyms are the second reason I hate the Internet... and you.
Stay tuned for the conclusion, followed by the humble beginnings of Why I Hate You.
postscript: i don't really hate you... i love the fuckin tits off ya. KMA,M(fucka)
post postscript: but don't get me started on the gamer 1337 shit either. w00t the fuck?? I'll save that for another day.
This may be an irrational and biased P(of)S: but txtual acronyms are the second reason I hate the Internet... and you.
Stay tuned for the conclusion, followed by the humble beginnings of Why I Hate You.
postscript: i don't really hate you... i love the fuckin tits off ya. KMA,M(fucka)
post postscript: but don't get me started on the gamer 1337 shit either. w00t the fuck?? I'll save that for another day.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The Worm and the Waters
Genesis One:Six-Eight
And God said, let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under from the waters that were above, and it was so. And God called the firmament, Heaven.......
The sea rose towards the clouds. Rising, twisted like souls, swallowed by the open sky, beckoning it's inevitable return to the above. Immaculate unrest and disbelief: panic. As the big blue "O" flew above the cities, over the lands, it marked the last day of sanity the world had known. Slowly leaking from clasped hands, desperate hands, the fuel for all sustaining life, had abandoned it's very creation. The Water had left us. Enter: the Worm...
With great panic, comes decisive lunacy. Reservoirs. Boilers. Bottles. Bodily fluid filtration. As the last cloud dissolves behind the sun, the last barrier was crossed. Within a week, man tasted the weak, the incarcerated. Man, tasted, man.
Dehydration is accompanied by good friends: Vomit. Diarrhea. Seizures. Brain Damage. Death. The "Fabulous Five". Coupled with the orgy that had become survival for survivals sake, the end of consumerism, culture, humanity, man was fervently inviting: the Worm. However: Ingestion of human blood, tissue and bone only delays these fine five friends, holding the door for the wriggly ringmaster himself...
The Worm. Scratching. Scraping. He's been there guiding, dragging them by the teeth to the children, still feeding on mothers, and food for the fathers. The Worm is survival. And the Water has left us. As the skin grays and disease joins the feast, press on. The Worm is our Shepard....
Trades and practices, wisdom and peace. Like the Water, a memory long severed from the daily grind. To gnash, to tear, to consume and ingest. To fuck the skin, the substitute, the refreshments. To feed the Worm.
As the last few stood, bathed in sun... the last few remnants of Water on the earth came trickling up their foreheads as they began to cry. The tears ascended towards the burning sky, as the heaps of consumers cried out to their savior, their last shred of hope... to the Worm.
"What has cursed us so!? Why did our Water leave us, ABANDON US, to this, this... HELL!!?"
And the Worm slowly crept from their skulls, smiling and clawing, clawing behind their heads, and said to them: "The Water did not leave you. You have left the Waters. You have forsaken them, with your panic, and selfish lust, for life. I am that Lust, and you have served me and fed me well. The Water, heh, the Water begged you to follow, to return with Him, and you refused. You clung to "life". You clung to me."
As the men cried out, horrified by the truth around them, the Worm continued... "You see, my friends, between the Waters: was the Heavens, and below them: the Earth. But you have forsaken the Water. And now you dwell below the Waters... and you will live and die here forever, as the Worm, will now feed: on you."
Welcome to the 'Thursday With A Twist' Storytime!!!
And God said, let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under from the waters that were above, and it was so. And God called the firmament, Heaven.......
The sea rose towards the clouds. Rising, twisted like souls, swallowed by the open sky, beckoning it's inevitable return to the above. Immaculate unrest and disbelief: panic. As the big blue "O" flew above the cities, over the lands, it marked the last day of sanity the world had known. Slowly leaking from clasped hands, desperate hands, the fuel for all sustaining life, had abandoned it's very creation. The Water had left us. Enter: the Worm...
With great panic, comes decisive lunacy. Reservoirs. Boilers. Bottles. Bodily fluid filtration. As the last cloud dissolves behind the sun, the last barrier was crossed. Within a week, man tasted the weak, the incarcerated. Man, tasted, man.
Dehydration is accompanied by good friends: Vomit. Diarrhea. Seizures. Brain Damage. Death. The "Fabulous Five". Coupled with the orgy that had become survival for survivals sake, the end of consumerism, culture, humanity, man was fervently inviting: the Worm. However: Ingestion of human blood, tissue and bone only delays these fine five friends, holding the door for the wriggly ringmaster himself...
The Worm. Scratching. Scraping. He's been there guiding, dragging them by the teeth to the children, still feeding on mothers, and food for the fathers. The Worm is survival. And the Water has left us. As the skin grays and disease joins the feast, press on. The Worm is our Shepard....
Trades and practices, wisdom and peace. Like the Water, a memory long severed from the daily grind. To gnash, to tear, to consume and ingest. To fuck the skin, the substitute, the refreshments. To feed the Worm.
As the last few stood, bathed in sun... the last few remnants of Water on the earth came trickling up their foreheads as they began to cry. The tears ascended towards the burning sky, as the heaps of consumers cried out to their savior, their last shred of hope... to the Worm.
"What has cursed us so!? Why did our Water leave us, ABANDON US, to this, this... HELL!!?"
And the Worm slowly crept from their skulls, smiling and clawing, clawing behind their heads, and said to them: "The Water did not leave you. You have left the Waters. You have forsaken them, with your panic, and selfish lust, for life. I am that Lust, and you have served me and fed me well. The Water, heh, the Water begged you to follow, to return with Him, and you refused. You clung to "life". You clung to me."
As the men cried out, horrified by the truth around them, the Worm continued... "You see, my friends, between the Waters: was the Heavens, and below them: the Earth. But you have forsaken the Water. And now you dwell below the Waters... and you will live and die here forever, as the Worm, will now feed: on you."
Welcome to the 'Thursday With A Twist' Storytime!!!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)