philrancid: (Default)
I don't think so, anyway.

I'm just going through my Friend of list and telling everyone potato on their text messages--the wonders of technology.

Yes, I am that bored, and down.

Granted the outcome could be disastrous in certain areas, but i tend to believe that life will slap you whether you do or don't, so...


Gee, I hope this isn't one of the signs of the Apocalypse...that part in Revelations where it gets disjointed, like maybe one of the entries was missing?

Rev 1:2:3--what're we fightin for?
And on the day of the near-failure, there was mention of tubers upon the cells.
The Seals were weakened.

on another note--I never mentioned that I am sorta quasi published, neh? Yeah, I've got an entry in one of the Kagatane's netbooks, right after they became the Official Home of Ravenloft on the Net, and around the time Mangrum bailed to join the team and write Carnival, did a Pocket domain. I also posted art on their site, the Azalin in the t-shirt was much popular.

Les Mozingo--da's me.
philrancid: (Default)
Since communication has failed at all levels we request that you kill them.

Details here.
philrancid: (Default)
Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves,
both male and female, provided they are purchased from
neighbouring nations. A friend of mine claims that this
applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify?
Why can't I own Canadians?

Help Wanted

Sep. 6th, 2003 08:40 am
philrancid: (potted hand)
Needed: One minion. Will assist in evil overlord's ambitions to conquer the universe, or, barring that, at least get all the air in the room to hide under the desk.

Must be good at remembering inconsequential details, and at knowing which side the overlord wishes the minion to stand by. Minion Feng Shui a plus, as the proper placement of an attentively waiting minion has been shown in recent studies to increase the power, productivity, and overall sex appeal of Evil Overlords by up to sixty-nine percent.

Must be good at reading body language, and the perfect applicant will have good reflexes, an ample supply of destructive devices in red velvet-lined cases, and will always supply the proper scapegoats for the venting of overlord ire.

Good health plan. Benefits include: profit-sharing, time shares in exotic private locations, and the freedom to "do what you will" with attractive member's of the evil overlord's opposition.

Please send 8x10, and must have clean bill of health.
philrancid: (Default)
Let's see--God hates Cap'n, murnkay is an asshole (the votes are in!), my kitty is losing her mind, and mad at me because I want to build old guitars into custom coolness, and damn the torpedoes! ahahahaha!

It also seems that my mind is coming unhooked from my hands, causing a great and grand groovy fuckall when I try to type. You don't really see much of it here, thanks to my ability to still see when I've fucked a word right out of it's proper form, but wee things are still getting through, little things that are not part of my normal typography.

We damn near stalked hedgegoth--the kitty were thinkin about goin to the zoo tomorrow, when I mentioned in jest that we go to stalk hedgegoth.

(there he is! there he is! oo!)
(shh! I think he hears us!)

Although, for technical reasons, I will now state that I haven't stalked anyone. I was more of a passive type than that, just tending to go to places that my prey frequented, sit around, and think about them.

Shri's roof leaks--just in case you missed it. Found her on AIM, and we had us a good ol'fashioned blast. I offered to kneecap him, if through some fluke I step through a wormhole on my way to the pisser and wind up in Kansas. Now, granted: some people like to use the line, I think we aren't in Kansas anymore, to signify a departure from their home, their norms, but what if, all of a sudden, you found yourself, a denizen of other places, whisked involuntarily into Kansas?

Exactly what do you say then?

Someone should write a book for scenarios like that, where you can't find the right thing to say. Or maybe we should all, as a group, decide on a single word that would be used to express all unprepared situations. Akin to Mary Poppins and her Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, save that my vote would immediately go for the word Gibbledyfuck.

You have to pick a word with one of those consonants that no one can make their damn minds up about, so that the word itself can be expanded to encompass more situations, for example, to use my word:

pronounced JIB ledeefuck, it would be the perfect thing to shout as you evacuate your bowels in the presence of a rogue prop from Stan Winston's studios, possessed by the unquiet spirits of unrequited Furries.

Pronounced Gibb-eldeefuck, it could more easily fall into a more disco-based post-apocalyptic scenario, as in the time where John Travolta ground L. Ron Hubbard's femur up into a hallucinogenic paste and served it in the deli trays where they film Soul Train.

The fact that everyone seems to be having some sort of crisis has made me suddenly very nervous about my upcoming physical--be it something in the air, that makes it so square when we get together? Have the planets aligned unconfortably in the dark confines of Uranus to destroy us all? Are the Fat Boys planning a reunion tour?

(elapsed time 13:47:83)

Sorry! Spaced out there for a bit.

I'd probably go into some sort of insensitive rant, right about now, but I don't want to sound like an ass. Being one is still okay on my list, I guess, but sounding like one has suddenly fallen off of the holy eateries list, well outside of kosher.
philrancid: (Default)
I are the loudest non sequiter...
philrancid: (Default)
Seems like everyone is dreaming.

I dreamt that I was in league with Jim Carrey as the Riddler, and Willem Dafoe as the Green Goblin, and between the three of us, we were destroying like basically everything--everywhere--we even killed James Earl Jones as the mayor of Dreamville.

Turns out the Green Goblin and the Riddler got on the outs, and they were trying to kill each other, and everything got all Manga-crazy, with the two of them running around in powered suits destroying all sorts of shgit in the attempt tpo kill each other...

They were jumping leagues and blowing each other up, and grappling with each other in the air, in the midst of a busy freeway. And Dafoe was trying to become the new mayor, but Carrey, who was left for dead, limped in and revealed all the evidence that marked Dafoe the mayorial candidate as the Green Goblin menace. And so then, thwarted, Dafoe turned into SuperSuit GReen Goblin, who was for some reason purple, and the battered Carrey and I had to bring him low...
philrancid: (Default)
So there I was, just had got the last of the kids down the well, and was about to slap the cap on it, when over rushes the fucking neighbor's wife, her hands all flapping around, going, "You can't do that! You can't!" So I said to her, "Why the fuck not?" To which she replied, "Didn't you see that movie?"

Dumb bitch. Like I watch movies...

So I told her no, and would she get on with the damn point, and she tells me she'll have to show me, instead. I go over to her place, curious to figure out just what sort of horseshit she's been smoking. She pops out this movie, and there's this horrible little girl ghost giving people all sorts of horrors and vapors, and in the end she comes out of a TV, and she can make people look like my first wife just by getting near 'em. The neighbor's wife was jumping and jerking like some maniac was at her stick, and in the end, she looks at me and says, all serious, "You see now why you can't drop your kids down the well to die?" To which I responded:

"There is no way in hell that that could happen here." And she goes, "But--," I cut her off.

"You stupid shit, you know damn well I ain't got no horses!"

...copied from the "Shards of Chaos" Testimonials Message Board
philrancid: (Default)
...this batch slapped me in the mouth when i went to throw some milk in it, rolled me, and then kicked a hole in the TV before bustin' out the back door all pissed cuz I din't have enough money...

And now...

Aug. 5th, 2003 11:39 am
philrancid: (Default)
Happy Bits...starring America's favorite axe-murdering three-year-old!!


Aug. 1st, 2003 01:24 pm
philrancid: (Default)
I would like to now hate one of you.
philrancid: (potted hand)
Nobody loves me
I get no replies
people take pliers
and tear out my eyes
And when I feel lonely
well it's no surprise
that rabid fat weasels
eat off my thighs

oooohhhhhhhhh--potato potato potato,
potato potato potato
potato potato potato
when you're plural Dan Quayle can't spell you
(to the tune of the Mexican hat dance music thing)
philrancid: (Default)
potato potato potato,
they ate my soul...
dunk-dunkle dunk-dunkle poo-poo
philrancid: (Default)
And so the tarpon were trying to gulp up my genitals, but I was a tugboat and so couldn't be harmed, but the captain was crazy and he ran around with his knickers on his head shouting about all the damned potatoes and I got scared.
philrancid: (puppet)
"You have not yet reached the height of your depravity"

With these ominous words, I am thrown headlong into paroxysms of delight. Fear of reaching a sort of rut or, as in the case of most other radioactive energies, a half-life, has kept me from acheiving many things in the recent past. But now, by God, I have been given a Sign, a piece of the Utter Truth, that elusive thing that philosophers ulcerate themselves attempting to dissect and discover.

I have many horrid things left to reveal, to set loose on the hapless world, and its cowering denizens--mwahahahahaa!!
philrancid: (Default)


philrancid: (Default)
chrishaas is back.
philrancid: (Default)
How to reconcile ourselves with this, which is as good an answer as we're likely to ever be given.
I know Lonita hates it, but being obtuse is something I do more for my own amusement than anything else. I like to make me laugh--I think I need cheering up sometimes; and, besides, if you can't make yourself happy, who the hell can?
The Tiger understands my madnesses, and she not only indulges them, but embraces them.
Yes. This entry isn't Pi, but it's definitely a code, a small piece of something that in the grand scheme, at this moment, is even smaller: my life.
Yes. (an affirmation) I am weird--strange, mad, nuts, a cracker gone crackers, to pardon the Southern pun. (get theee to a punnery)
philrancid: (Default)
I made a song once, and there's nothing you can do to stop it having existed.

Mainly because even if you believe that all things are possible and that by default would mean that you could make my song not have existed, you would then have been taking steps to have removed the song, thus proving that it existed, and negating your efforts pre-emptively.

Matter cannot be created or destroyed through normal means, but even through abnormal means isn't it simply conversion into a new form?

dare I?

Jun. 22nd, 2003 07:59 pm
philrancid: (Default)
And so the plague rat bore another son, a pestilent beast whose single heartfelt goal was the propagation of disease. He was the latest, the greatest of his poxy father's progeny, and he knew it was within him to reduce man to a sickly beast cowering in the darkness of Death. There would come a great death upon the Two-legs, a seeping, weeping sickness that would spread through his ranks like a firestorm, striking down highborn and lowly alike.

From their thrones in the sewers, they sent glittering eyes upward, and their sharp, festering teeth were bared in wicked smiles of contentment.

Soon would it be so.

November 2012

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