scrambler

I was minding my own business having a cup of coffee and a donut when... ...I was attacked by a crazy horned man.

New TV show this season Republican Eye for the Democratic Guy

Variation on head cheeze Squirrel brains FRANKFORT, Ky. (AP) -- Squirrel brains are a lip-smacking memory for Janet Norris Gates. They were the choicest morsels of the game her father once hunted in Tennessee. ``In our family, we saw it as a prized piece of meat, and if he shared it with you, you were pretty happy. Not that he was stingy,'' said Mrs. Gates, an oral historian in Frankfort, ``but there's just not much of a squirrel brain.'' Now, some people might want to think twice about eating squirrel brains, a backwoods Southern delicacy. Food for Thought

Lynch films like Blue Velvet reveal another layer of reality lurking beneath the facade of ordinary day to day life. Sort of a paranoic reality of power plays. Yeah, most of these films jar my sense of reality. What if everything you thought you knew was wrong?

The Bad Lieutenant NC-17 version shows the nun-crucifix scene.

Alejandro Jodorowsky El Topo also The Holy Mountain Jodorowsky's stuff is esoteric so might have to be supplimented by chemical means. Anything by John Waters. Liquid Sky...that was the one about the alien who comes to earth to feed off the brain chemicals elicited during sexual orgasm. Invocation of My Demon Brother, Kenneth Anger Mick Jagger did the soundtrack for this one. Some of these are like watching Eraserhead, a bit difficult to comprehend without some external interpretation

Ken Kesey died on this day, Nov. 10, 2001 following cancer surgery of his liver. "In 1964, Kesey and his friends, who had become known as the Merry Pranksters, bought a 1939 International Harvest school bus and drove to New York to see the World's Fair. Kesey recruited Neal Cassady from Kerouac's On the Road to drive the bus, and filmed a significant portion of the journey; Kesey would later show clips from the trip to chemically-induced audiences at his parties. Kesey became the proponent of a local band known as the "Warlocks," which later became the Grateful Dead." "Kesey and his Merry Pranksters became notorious for their "Acid Tests" and use of LSD and other drugs. Kesey's exploits with the Merry Pranksters during this period formed the basis for a best-selling book by Tom Wolfe (A Man in Full, The Bonfire of the Vanities) called The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. When the government made LSD illegal, Ken and the Pranksters fled to Mexico. When he returned to the United States for a final performance, he was arrested on a marijuana charge. Upon his release from jail, Kesey moved to a farm in Pleasant Hill, Oregon to raise his family." Source:Biography "The answer is never the answer. What’s really interesting is the mystery. If you seek the mystery instead of the answer, you’ll always be seeking. I’ve never seen anybody really find the answer—they think they have, so they stop thinking. But the job is to seek mystery, evoke mystery, plant a garden in which strange plants grow and mysteries bloom. The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer." —Ken Kesey (1935-2001)

The Artist at work Cheeta

Why this world must be destroyed.

ESP experiment. Can you guess the word I think when I see that picture?

Why?

Nobody Died when Clinton Lied.

You want to hear my hippy dippy view? I believe it has more to do with your interior state of mind. If feeling happy is a dose of serotonin and something exterior to me triggers that release, then it’s all good whether that trigger is the company of good friends or the feel of rock, etc. For me, it’s all about the freedom to climb, having this corporeal body to sense and feel the rock and the heat of the sun. It would suck to be just stardust. Since I can’t climb now (injury), I’m not fully alive. Just to go through the motions again, that engagement of mind, body and environment, would feel good. And the confluence of all things: sunny weather, friends you trust, good rock, sending the moves…it’s a one in a million shot, kind of like that transitory feeling of being in love. It just feels good and those are the best moments.

Church sign generator

Oh right. Better living through chemistry.

Tantric Climbing

Having real power means never having to say you're sorry.

Sisu, sounds like you've been in the trenches. What was it I heard someone say, "Never turn your backs on the muthafuckers!" Yeah, even if you are a teenager your punishment will be meted out as if you're an adult. Let the punishment fit the crime. There will be no age discrimination with respect to punishment. You will learn to fear and through that fear, you will respect authority. Paraphrase of a Biblical passage: The fear of authority is the beginning of wisdom. The perennial problem: rebellious teenagers Actually, I believe this will always be a problem regardless of which political agenda is pursued. There are two other problems that can be extracted: the availability of guns and the presence of drug use. You could approach these problems with a philosophical attitude, e.g., yours that lax attitudes ('do your own thing') are responsible for disrespect and breakdown of authority. The misuse of guns and drugs are a symptom of these lax attitudes. Maybe though, what you are seeing is actually a need to escape through drug usage and breaking the law (society's conventions). This need to escape is caused by the dawning realization that the kids see a bleak future for themselves. Condone it? No. Solution? No. Though I suppose if you wanted to look at the problem through the Republican-Democratic polarity, it breaks down into individual responsibility vs. system failure, i.e., Repub-'it's the individual's fault; Dems-'the system is flawed. Seems the centrist solution of tweaking both the system and encouraging individual responsibility may be most effective though the pendulum effect (alternating right and left) is how the dynamic societal process is expressed.

Well that sucks. If it's any consolation some of the attack suspects were captured. Chinook attack suspects nabbed "AMERICAN troops had captured two former Iraqi army generals suspected of spearheading anti-coalition fighting in the Fallujah region, coalition officials said last night." "The former generals were suspected of being financiers and organisers of rebel fighters operating around Fallujah, the network said." Hopefully we don't have to see more repeats of this kind of incident. But I'm doubtful. "Many U.S. helicopters in Iraq lack standard anti-missile equipment that might have prevented last weekend's attack on a Chinook helicopter that killed 15 U.S. troops, a Democratic senator said on Wednesday." Senator Says U.S. Copters in Iraq Lack Proper Gear--Reuters News

"The Gift - a poo / scientology story" Joe The Peacok (my real name gets filtered! HA!) 10/31/2003 12:30 am [] I was at a friend of a friend of a friend's house for a party this weekend, which roughly translated means I knew only 2 people in the entire place. I was standing around clueless, being introduced to a bunch of people I wouldn't remember in the morning and wishing my wife wasn't having such a good time so we could get the hell out of there, when suddenly I felt the urge to relieve myself. I made my way to the restroom off of the main hall downstairs, entered the tiny half-bath, and closed the door behind me. As I heard the soft click of the latch shut behind me, I bent down and lifted the lid. Shock and surprise filled me as I saw what I swear to God was the largest log of fecal matter I have ever seen in my entire life floating on the surface of the crystal blue water. To say this thing was large is a total understatement. This thing was enormous. Think "Subway 12 inch sandwich" and you would be on the right track. Now, Think Jared Fogle before the Subway diet and you'd be right on the mark. The very first thought that came to my mind was "JESUS HOLY FUCK! Whose anus is large enough to accommodate THAT?!" But other, more urgent matters were making their presence known, so I proceeded to evacuate my bladder into the toilet. I tried my best to aim for the porcelain right above the water line at the back of the bowl, until my mind started to ponder how on earth something of that magnitude could have made its way out of any human being, at which point the stream intersected with the lump o' foul, and began misting up and out of the bowl. There was now an unholy spray of urine against the tank of the toilet, and the walls immediately on either side. "Drat!" I said in my mind, which came out of my mouth sounding like "FUCK!" I cursed the fiend who had left this gift for me to contend with. Now I had to clean a mess that, by all rights, wasn't mine. I looked at the toilet paper roll. None. Normally, when faced with this type of situation, one thinks, "How on earth am I going to clean this now?" But my mind was locked on the fact that whoever left this massive loaf of gross DID NOT WIPE AFTERWARDS. That, mixed with some of the worst crab dip I have ever eaten, did it. Knowing that one of my fellow party guests was walking around with a bleeding rectum just made me completely ill. I vomited. Into the toilet. With the "gift." As I was hurling, my eyes opened to see this vomit and urine covered brick of poo floating in the now green bowl of my friend's toilet. Out of sheer reflex, I winced and turned my head. While still vomiting. The linoleum was nuked. I looked around for something to wipe my mouth, and found nothing. No washcloths, no towels, nothing. So now, there was vomit on the linoleum, urine on the walls, and a toilet full of the nastiest witches' brew of disgusting things. Naturally, at that exact moment, someone else decided they needed to use the restroom and knocked at the door. "Just a minute!" I hit the sink, rinsed out my mouth, and came to my senses: I had to deal with this situation, and fast. I thought the best way to get started was to get rid of the soup that was fermenting in the bowl, so I flushed. The water swirled and green nastiness was replaced with blue freshness ... all but for the gigantic link still bobbing in the toilet. I flushed again. It bobbed and spun, but would NOT go down the evacuator. *bang bang* "Hold on just a moment!" "Hurry up, I really need to go!" "Can't you use the other bathroom?" "Someone's already in it." "Sounds remarkably similar to this one, doesn't it? Why don't you go bang on that door?" "Because I'm already down here and I REALLY gotta go! Please hurry!" Now, under my Rangers jersey, I was wearing a brand-new Hanes T-shirt. I quickly pulled both shirts off and put the jersey back on. I wet the T-shirt and began the arduous task of mopping up the mess. As I soaked up the lake of illness on the floor, rinsing and wringing out the T-shirt, I couldn't help but think that, considering the Rangers' recent performance, I had probably picked the more valuable of the two garments to perform this unholy duty. Finally, I managed to get the mess cleaned up ... and not a moment too soon, because just as I wrung the last of my sick out of the T-shirt, the pounding started again. "HURRY UP IN THERE!" "Almost finished! Just another second!" "It's been 10 minutes! Jesus, what are you doing in there?" "Praying!" "Oh, come on!" "No, I am. I am a Scientologist. We pray in the restroom." "WHY??" "The smoothness of the porcelain better resonates our thoughts to our Xenusian brothers." "What are you talking about??" "On the advanced levels (called OT levels) above the state of Clear, we encounter Xenu. Xenu gathered up all the overpopulation in this sector of the galaxy, brought them here to Earth, and then exterminated them using hydrogen bombs. The souls of these murdered people infested the body of everyone. They are called body thetans. We must get rid of them by praying in linoleum rooms." "..." "It's all very complicated. If you would like, I can recommend a book..." "Would you just shut up and HURRY THE FUCK UP??" "Don't cast my religion off, you fascist!" *mumble mumble* *BANG* The enemy had been silenced. This left me with the issue of the world's largest mass of waste matter to contend with. I looked for a plunger or a can of air freshener -- anything I could lift it out of the bowl with. No luck. The only resort was to grab the poo with the t-shirt, wrap it up, and throw it away. So I put the shirt around my hand. I reached into the tank. I grabbed the monster and wrapped it up. I looked for a garbage can. FUCK! NO GARBAGE CAN!! *BANG BANG* "I'M TIRED OF WAITING! OPEN THIS DOOR AND GET OUT!" I placed the wet and discolored former T-shirt on the counter, opened the door, and came face to face with this irate bastard. "Real quick, are you doing number one or number two?" I asked him. "What the hell does it matter?" "Believe me, it does. Which one?" "Two, why?" "There's no paper. You are going to have to use that old towel there on the counter. Don't worry, it's clean. I just used it to wash my face a second ago." "Thanks, buddy." *SLAM* *click* About 5 minutes go by. From the other side of the downstairs bathroom door came the most hideous shriek you have ever heard, followed by a string of vulgarity so artistically crafted, it could only be rivaled by my father. I decided that this was a good time to make my way out of the apartment and down the street to the Waffle House at the corner -- a place where I knew I could have a decent cup of coffee and not worry if any of it would end up on the walls later. Source: story aboout poo

An avatar is just a persona or like a stage name. It's just a particular face you present to an audience. It's an act. Some people just say things to get a reaction. I think it's misgiven if you take what's said to be identical to who the person is. Exerpt from Andrew 'Dice' Clay interview: Q. Don't you worry that people will take comments like that seriously? A. I can't worry about [ticking] anybody off anymore. I'm a comedian. It's the kind of comedy I do. ... I can't care less about people who don't like it. A lot of the new comics today get a little scared to say what's on their mind. I'm known as a filthy comic, even though I know what I say has valid points. Five questions with Andrew Dice Clay--Chicago Sun-Time, Nov. 5, '03