He, and his little brother, are moving out next Saturday.
Soon all of this:
.. will be just a distant memory.
And they’re leaving me the espresso machine! Score.
I think a party may finally be in order.
Category Archives: Whack
Retarded Right Thumbnail
Filed under Photos, Self Analysis, Whack
post-op.org
Whilst faking being dead, I started an exclusive secret messageboard with Kybalion and Lady J for lovelorn former Neurocammers. It’s kind of died a death itself. That’ll teach me.
But it’s still there. And if you’d like to join, now you can! Simply submit the following details:
- Your former operative name
- Why you became an operative, and why you stopped being one
- Why you would like join the board
- Your opinion, if any, of Mr. Robin Hely
Your deepest desire, or your greatest fear- The most memorable dream you’ve had this week
- The colour and style of the underwear you are currently wearing, if any
Ever Onward [*]
My archives will be going offline soon. They’re under review.
Like I said, there are going to be changes.
They’ll take as long as they take.
Thanks for your patience.
[*] Whilst we’re in disavowal mode, please note that contrary to rumour I am also emphatically not affiliated with the Church of Satan.
Happy
Yay!
I’ve finally compiled my “Stuff I Did Last Year” post, which had become the object of increasingly dire procrastinatory enmirement over these past two weeks. It involved conducting a larger review of the year which I’d been dreading.
That was stupid of me. (Hindsight’s a wonderful thing.)
It may seem like I’ve been neglecting this blog – but the truth is I’ve been going half-demented thinking about what to do with it.
*sigh*
The only fly in my ointment today, however, is that I’ve accidentally deleted the audio file – which I really, really wanted to post – of a conversation conducted between myself and my neighbour on Thursday night.
We were discussing the most efficient way of killing everyone in our building. In the end we decided to get two pistols with a silencers and then just knock on each person’s door one by one. I would do upstairs, he would do downstairs. Simple, effective, no muss, no fuss.
The talks broke down, however, when it became apparent that my neighbour thought we should give ourselves up once the job was complete.
That seemed ridiculous to me. What kind of milksop goes on a merciless killing spree and then surrenders? “Gee, sorry about that. Here, let me spend the rest of my life in jail”? Fuck that.
I’m going to Sydney tonight, for the birthday of an old friend and to hang with baby sis, who is going backpacking overseas next month for a long time. I shall return on Tuesday evening. There will be pictures.
But then, once I get home, I’ll be working like a trojan through to Sunday. So don’t be anticipating too much action round these parts over the next week or so.
There are going to be changes. Good changes. Still not sure exactly what form they’ll take yet. But they’ll be good.
Finally, word up as always to all the good people I’ve been woefully neglecting in various ways of late (specifically: Agent Blabber, Alexis, Clover, Desci, Hits, Li, Nada, Reanimator, Simon Blackmoore and the mysterious, oracular Mr Simon Moon.. although somehow I feel sure that he, at least, is not offended).
Please be assured of my regard and that communques are pending as applicable.
In Other News: Marty & Jess Split!!
In all the excitement I almost missed the real story of the day.
Filed under Current Affairs, Whack
Beltaine In “Not Wrong” Shock
Toots really is Chesh in drag.
Don’t tell anyone I told you; bitch’ll have my spinal fluid.
UPDATE – Community Service Announcement: This is Beltaine spoofing Toots, and not the real Toots.
Soiled Keyboard
Grimsby has been hard at work. Early yesterday afternoon, at great personal inconvenience to me, I spilled an entire cup of coffee over my keyboard.
After that it mysteriously stopped working. I think we all know who’s responsible.
I got by for the rest of the day by typing with my mouse onto an onscreen software keyboard that I found by cutting & pasting the words “onscreen keyboard mac” – one letter at a time, natch – into Google.
This morning I was able to borrow an interim keyboard off somebody which will tide me over until I can afford a new one.
So what’s really happened here? My Schedule of Destruction has simply expanded to include my old keyboard, which was dirty and cruddy and needed to be eliminated anyway. I have lost nothing. Not even time – because (as regular readers will know) I don’t believe in it.
In your FACE, forces of darkness.
Old Homage To Constance
From May; I never got around to posting these at the time.
I still get sad sometimes about what happened with Constance. It doesn’t seem to have bothered her too much though, so I suppose I shouldn’t.
She was really nasty to me. I can’t be having with that.
People, eh.
From Tomorrow The Signs Are Going Up
Be afraid.
Do not be afraid. Be brave, for a glorious new era beckons. Vote Nada!
John Fowles Dead
Victory for the Trysting Fields campaign!
UPDATE: The post cited above just got linked by the BBC!
Filed under Books, Current Affairs, Neurocam, People, Whack
These Spam Names Are Gold
“Surprise V. Bugger”
“Prudish C. Mellows”
Spam – where have you been all my life?
Filed under Whack
Groan Box In The Meat Show
Here is a fellow who is not insane (although he is an idiot) who believes that Monsignor Manson is genuinely monstrously evil – a possibility with which I am very enamoured.
He proposes that Manson sought/seeks to aggressively & systematically demoralize his own audience, without them noticing, in order to create dependency. He suggests, for example, that MM’s objective in drilling his listeners over and over and over again with the phrase:
We’re disposable teens
We’re disposable teens
We’re disposable teens
We’re disposable
was not the stated one of providing an empowering outlet for the sense of frustration and alienation experienced by many young people in contemporary society – but rather to, on a very direct and visceral level, remind and reinforce to teens that they are indeed disposable to him and worthless in general – keeping them down and in their place, and inspiring them to perversely greater heights of devotion at the same time.
I do not find this theory entirely implausible.
He chose you, honey!
Sing it, Fitsy.
Can I call you Fitsy? I feel as if I know you. Although of course I don’t, nor will I ever.
Total number of hits I have received as a result of people searching on some variant of ‘katie holmes brainwashed scientology’ since June: 108.
Have You Seen This Phone?
It’s escaped.
I don’t even have any pictures of it. I took it for granted, I guess. Maybe I deserved to lose it.
It had all my numbers in it. Probably still does.
Fiasco.
Come back to me, phone.
Filed under Whack