Dude, everyone knows that the fall of the Tower of Babel was a conspiracy. A tower doesn't collapse like that unless it's a controlled demolition.
And who's behind it? The Jews.
-kishi
Be nice to us, or we'll bring democracy to your country.
-Rojo^
~*~*Madyson*~*~ ohmgee like school is so gay
*~*~Destanie~*~ i no rite!
~*~*Madyson*~*~ so like, you wanna lie out?
*~*~Destanie~*~ yah i no this awesome spot on this bridge omigod
~*~*Madyson*~*~ oh yah! cuz there's no shade from trees and stuff
*~*~Destanie~*~ yah trees are so gay
~*~*Madyson*~*~ um like, but what if a train comes?
*~*~Destanie~*~ like, what-ev-ahrrrr
~*~*Madyson*~*~ yah trains are so gay
-JOECAM
Moral of the story: Trains are not gay. If they were, these girls wouldn't have been fucked by one.
-kang
BTW all the porn on SE is really poor quality, I never come here for that.
-Saint_Marck
It was bad enough the first time...
-KropperPrime
That's what SHE said....
-Sgt Harry 'Snapper' Organs
But then there are those of us who handle spiders just fine, yet quail at the thought of having our intestines sucked out through our anus.
-Khafra
An inablity to empathize huh? I can't imagine what that is like.
-TheCooler
Always avert your eyes unless you want to be astounded by the stupidity of your fellow man.
-Tektike
I'm curious to know how a topless woman wearing a goat's head and spanking a clown with a dildo is any more insane than the idea that an invisible, undetectable yet omnipotent being impregnated a virgin (without asking), so that he could then arrange the murder of said offspring in order to provide a loophole for all his other human creations, who would otherwise be condemned to an infinite amount of time being tortured in another dimension after their deaths, because of something their very distant ancestors did which angered this omniscient being.
-hellboy
>You have:
Pig
Half Jar of Chaos
Sack of Jelly Beans
Teen Pr0n
-Narrenschiff
Mix Pig to Teen Pr0n
Equip.
-Aidentas
I read brail off your moms vagina with my lips.
though for some reason all it ever says is "."
-sacrelicious
First we shag, then we frag.
-bruceski
CAPSLOCK IS LIKE CRUISE CONTROL FOR AWESOME!
-gunthar
YOUR INTERNET PENIS DWARFS EVEN YOUR STUPIDITY!
-benjamander
It can play the banjo using nothing but the force.
-headlessfriar
after her, my stupids!
-sacrelicious
[i]WHAT?![/i] [b]you[/b] must be [color=#FF0000]joking![/color] :roll:
-sacrelicious
I've been on a spiritual journey of self-discovery. At Arby's.
-sensibleb
In Canada Rights Gay You!
-theluckysean
Don't worry, we can masturbate it to death.
-thumble
I want a fucking tagline, god damn it.
-Trigger
That was me who said that, FYI.
-Rammek
That page was so ugly, I think it gave me cancer.
-ludditemike
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN, IT'S A VAGINA, NOT A CLOWN CAR
-boneration
Math problems? Call 1-800-[(10x)(13i)2]-[sin(xy)/2.362x].
-eskimonoise
I just think it's funny how Jesus is all like "don't be a hypocrite, and try to be nice to everyone." and they're all like "Kill everyone for Jesus because we're better than you."
-benjamander
I can't see much demand for this. By aiming this at men only, they've already alienated half of the 6.5 billion people in the world. Of the remaining 3.25 billion, only around 20% have had the chop, which leaves you with a mere 650 million possible clients. You can immediately eliminate almost everyone in poor areas like most of Africa, India and China. This will probably cut your potential customer base to around 30 or 40 million. 75% of those are likely to be happy as they are. Now you're down to about 7.5 million. At least half of those will think that wearing what's basically a flesh coloured balloon or a condom with the end cut off is a waste of money. Now you're down to around 3 million. Of the remaining 3 million, half won't ever know such a thing exists. So you're down to 1.5 million. Half of those would be too embarrassed to use it. 2 or 3 percent of people have a latex allergy, so that brings us down to around the 700k mark. Half of those suggest it to their wife and are told not to be stupid and they should get rid of their wig as well. The remaining 350k who are stupid enough to still be interested is likely to contain a large amount of people who's penis is just too small to use it, and small percent who's penis is too large. Another 50k jump ship. Then you'll get the people who's penis is not caucasian pink, mid-brown or dark brown.
So basically this product is aimed at a 45 year old guy called Geoff who thinks $90 for a balloon is bargain, he has an average sized caucasian pink penis, is unmarried and thinks flashing his limp rubberised cock will make him a real hit with the ladies.
-eskimonoise
darwin speaks to me in my sleep. "kill the unfit" he says. "natural slection needs your help"
-shiney things
I demand the right to vote god out of my state too! No damnation without representation!
-Caffeine
Eatch, n. The afterbirth of a rare species of peruvian anteater. ie. "Dude, I've seen way too much eatch today. I think I've been traumatized." From the Greek æch: "Monstrous cunt junk."
-mao tse helen
I'm not arguing because I'm the kind of loser who argues on the internets, I'm arguing with you because I'm not the kind of loser who argues on the internets, then posts it on the internets to prove I'm not that kind of loser, loser. And I'm certainly not the kind of loser who thinks he looks better than losers by hurling stereotypical insults, fatso.
-jaxtraw
Can't we be transgenderd post-op carebears? Think of all the different fetishes that would cover.
-Bob LLama
I'm Kimota, and so is my wife.
-Kimota badgerbaiter
The bad philosophy of the king's last tutor
Herp said to Derp, "Can herp be without herp?"
Derp said: "Derp."
Herp said: "Then how can herp be called herp?"
Derp said: "Because it is herp-derp."
Herp said: "But how can herp-derp be herp-derp without herp?"
Derp said: "Consider the derp de derp derp. It can derp in derp as easily as we herp in herp. For derp, derp is nothing. Yet without derp, derp will die. Why is herp so different?"
Herp said: "I can close my herp so that I am without herp, but I live only until the herp within me is gone. I cannot thrive on no herp. I must herp."
Derp said: "When you are truly without herp, let us speak again."
And so Herp awoke from his dream as Herp, and became herp-derp.
Everything has its "herp," everything has its "derp." From the point of "herp" you cannot see "derp," but through understanding you can know "derp." So then "herp" comes from "derp" and "derp" comes from "herp" - which is to say that "herp" and "derp" give birth to each other. Where there is "herp" there must also be "derp." Yet if "derp" cannot be seen from "herp," then is there in fact a "herp" and "derp?"
The herp-derp has "herp" that is both "herp" and not "herp." It also has "derp" that is both "derp" and not "derp." A state where "herp" and "derp" no longer find their opposites is the way of the herp-derp. To use herp to show that it is both herp and not herp is not as good as to use no herp to show that it is both herp and not herp. Herp and derp are one; the ten thousand derps are one herp.
Haiku written in a shallow ditch
The iron turtle
Belching in indignation
Sets itself on fire
Purple butterflies
Indulge in their favorite pose
On the paper wall
An unflinching eye
Surveys in perfect stillness
The dark skies below
A ship in emerald
Fallen from the sky too soon
Slowly floats away
Across calm waters
Rests two faces of a coin
The night has emptied
Every joy unfurled
The boisterous dragon turns
Not knowing the way
The swaggering ox
Bravely fends off advances
From flittering dames
The swaying willow
Dances for the gathered crowd
While she is alone
Flickering lanterns
Mark a road for the lady
To the rooster's praise
Tempered by the day
Faces in an amber field
Turn towards the north
The lonely mountain
Mourns for his brother's passing
Down in the village
Banished by the dawn
A shadow's tender caress
The sweet dream recedes
Tears of yestereve
Hoarded in the weaver's home
Dry beneath the lines
Perched in white blossoms
As the eager flock takes flight
One remains behind
Standing on one leg
A reed cannot be broken
The crane says to the crab
The stern conductor
Taps out his measured rhythm
To a herd of cats
Petal in the wind
Slips between my outstretched hand
Like all the others
A final poem
I will plagiarize no more
After this last one
An English Barman Foresees Nothing
I knew I would not consummate
After she had called me 'gov;
Those that I kiss I do not mate,
Those that I hump I do not love.
My lady friend's a wee bit cross
That nothing happened past the floor;
But then again her real name's Ross,
Now you know why I made for shore.
Nor law, no threat forbid me stay,
Nor pub crawl men, nor jeering crowd,
Save for my horror and dismay
On seeing sword fish stand for trout.
Oh bugger all, love might be blind,
But that's a plug without a port,
Unless the port's plugged from behind
In which case, then it's way too short.
Not a poem
Twirling and twirling in the autogyro
Some falcon just collided into my face;
Fucking bird; why the face, what's going on?
Everything's busted, there's no flight plan;
An awful lot of stuff is flying apart, and by God
I'm drowning in my own blood.
Image and metaphor
confound lost minds
over these lone
and dismal lines;
and in the words
puffed froth and flotsam
and grand, regal airs
blow
over wandering eyes;
and the last phrase
leads the way.
A lost row harks
for the next,
and inflated
and pampered verses
stammer and pause,
and repeat,
and stammer and pause,
in these tomes -
are found
in the flipping of paper
through old, drab tomes.
This is a splendour
of confusion,
this indulgence
of clever turns,
this clumsy frame
wrapped around a trite scene
like some well worn
and sun faded print
when the sun
blanks the top of the scene
and pitches this line
from left field.
This is the splendour
of words
burdened by words
and still word.
O what can ail thee, sorcerer red,
Bathed in ionic indigo?
The nomad moon hath smoothed her lock,
And no songs flow.
O what can ail thee, sorcerer red!
So bitter in thy crimson woe?
Friend and kindred join thee now,
In harvest sow.
I see a flower in thy midst,
That one time bloom so long since marred,
Cherished yet sans life anew,
Of steel and blood.
I met a lady in the stars,
With weathered cloak but passions true.
Her voice was fierce, her visage too.
Toward her I drew.
I lit the skies 'fore her embrace
With blazing sword and sunlets bright.
She turned her gaze to face me square,
And showed no fright.
I passed her by on shattered steed,
Thinking of naught else but the shore.
Yet still she came without relent-
Her rubies bore.
The chorus sang as my cage grew,
Kissed me dear, without restrain.
Soaring heart to sanguine lips,
Am born again.
Among the stars I was but one,
Lovers, comrades, in endless night-
Subjects all to her One desire,
Our beacon light.
Now and forever I was enthralled,
Such unrepentant bliss I found,
No pain nor worry, only love,
My joy abound.
But then the yet unbound did come,
With fiery lance and death aglow.
Thus she was torn asunder, gone,
And no songs flow.
'tis what ails my bitter "heart,"
My lover dead by righteous blow.
But I yet seek her in the stars,
In harvest sow.
Sensible Necropolis (haha not happening)
A Post-Apocalypse Zombie Adventure
The Dawn Plague was everywhere, and almost everyone died. Out of the dead, almost everyone stayed dead.
The returned found their thoughts dulled and their flesh weakened by sunlight. There was no cure, yet there was a reprieve. Fresh meat made the limbs strong again, and flesh brains greased the sluggish gears of consciousness. The days could be slept away, and, as long as there was food at night, life, of a sort, continued. Thus did reason return to a world gone mad. It was the oldest rational thought of all, the desire to survive.
Under the crumbling ruins of a once great city, a band of the living dead hide from the rays of the sun and eek out a modest existence. This is the story of Sensible Necropolis, a place where the dead found life again.
The game is for 40 players. Those who want to join after the limit can sign up for the ghost council. The game is divided between 3 factions (town zombies, mutants, and cultists). It cycles between a night phase, where everybody votes to lynch someone and eat his brains, and a day phase, where the mutants, cultists, and other special characters pick their targets and take action. Game ends when one faction secures absolute majority. No PMs except among watchers, mutants, and cultists. Players are encouraged to participate in discussions. Those who remain silent for too long may find themselves returned to death.
The Good Guys:
Zombies (townies): Your run of the mill undead trying to make their way in a hostile, post-apocalyptic world. Under the careful guidance of a reclusive mayor, the zombies scavenge for fresh brains at night while trying to avoid being gnawed to death in the day by the very animals they prey on.
Zombie Mayor (buffalo leader): With the constant dangers plaguing the necropolis, this upstanding zombie tries to organize the peaceful undead into something productive. The mayor has enough twine and expired band-aids to patch up his own detached limbs once if attacked in the day, faking necromancer protection. Also leads the Graveyard Watch.
Graveyard Watch (buffalo): Those who have discovered the mayor's secret tree house join a mutual support group dedicated to rooting out all who would bring harm to the Necropolis. Membership also grants full access to the mayor's stash of vintage porn. Watchers can send PMs to each other.
Entrail Reader (investigator): Cannibals, mutants, crazed cultists. Without a way of separating the innocent from the guilty, the Necropolis might have fallen long ago. It's a good thing, then, that a few of the more attentive zombies can find truth in what they eat. Entrail Readers receive insights during the day that reveal the true natures of those they dined with the night before.
Necromancer (doctor/survivalist): Skilled in anatomy and the secrets of life and death, these zombie scholars can bring the very recently deceased back to unlife. When provoked and unoccupied, they can also use powerful hexes to curse any would be aggressor to share their own fate. For that reason, mutants and cultists tend to send in their least favorite member to do the deed when they happen upon a necromancer.
The Dazed and Confused:
The Ghoul (serial killer/vigilante): Something that has become both less and more than a mere zombie, this misguided cannibal has discovered it can survive in the sun if it consumes much more than its share of animal brains. Now it tries to fuel a fantasy past life of daytime normalcy by voraciously devouring the flesh of its fellows. The ghoul nominally counts as a zombie, but can win the game on its own if it remains undiscovered. It will join the first side that manages to subdue it with violence.
The Machine (serial killer/nuclear heart): A hunter killer robot from the future Empire of the Circuit, disguised and sent to the past to terminate the creature that will one day bring about the destruction of all machines. Unfortunately, the hop through time fried its death rays, damaged its power core, and scrambled all its mission parameters. Left without much to do, it has decided to take up Zen and the Art of Killing Everybody. The machine can win solo if it manages to survive or eliminate two of the three factions. It has enough battery power to last three days, before needing to switch on its damaged power core. After that, anything so much as a slight breeze might be enough to set it off.
Ghost Council (ectoplasmic peanut gallery): If the strange blood stains and haunting voices are to be believed, then the dead indeed do tell tales. Ghosts can reveal any information they knew through life, continue to discuss the affairs of the town, and vote to publicly investigate anyone they deem suspicious. However, the cultists have advantages when it comes to the dead, and can manipulate events to their own ends. Ghosts themselves can be investigated by both the living and the dead.
The Bad Guys:
Mutants (mafia): They look just like zombies, but something other than puss and longing for the days of disco runs through these creatures' veins. They kill when the sun is up, and spur others to kill when the sky is dark. Lead by a cunning and discrete super mutant, these remnants of humanity will not rest until the city once again rests in the hands of the living.
Super Mutant (mafia leader): "The meek shall inherit the earth" has no place in this lumpy evil genius's book. The mutant leader will not rest until mutants are the uncontested masters of Necropolis. He is immune to daytime investigations and carries a personal stash of regenerative radioactive goo that when used, should be enough to fool most into believing he has a friend of the necromancer variety.
Cult of Moorindal (the other mafia): Civilization might have collapsed, but not by the pom-poned tentacles of Moorindal the Inconvenient. Steeped in forbidden lore and led by a mad high priest, these undead cultists ward themselves against the light with foul rituals to steal bodies for doomsday heralding sacrifices that no longer have any meaning. They appear as regular zombies when first investigated by the watch, and may even appear as innocent after death.
High Priest (cult leader): The great beast Moorindal might be soft and cuddly, but his favored servant most certainly is not. In the eyes of this lunatic, the sacrifice of every remaining soul on earth is a small price to pay for the joy of experiencing a proper apocalypse. The high priest has sat in on enough necromancy for dummies seminars to know how to heal himself once if attacked. He is immune to daytime investigations when alive. Even in death, he still grants the cult access to the dead pool. Only by exposing his spirit to the light of truth will the town deny him of his power.
The Dead Pool (hole in the ground): It's a pool, full of dead people. Ending up here would be bad, unless you're into that sort of thing. While anonymous, the high priest grants the cult access to the dead pool. It lets the cult find out the results of ghost investigations in the day, before everyone else. The cult starts with a body in the pool. Every time they kill a special character (anyone besides a plain zombie), they add another body to the pool. These bodies can be used in foul rituals to confound the dead and steal their identities.
That's it. Happy brain hunting.
---
Citizens of the Necropolis
1 badger baiter
2 solipsist
3 mannequin stand-in
4 junk salvager
5 waterchip manufacturer
6 visceroid
7 pigeon lady
8 hubologist
9 moonshiner
10 horticulturist
11 man on fire
12 undertaker
13 postman with a gun
14 air quality technician
15 dirt farmer
16 cat herder
17 ghost in the machine
18 ribcage exhibitionist
19 old senate republican
20 medical experiment
21 pyromaniac
22 bootlegger
23 scary looking machinist
24 battle royale survivor
25 "leather" tanner
26 robot in disguise
27 malodorous behemoth
28 last game's narrator
29 taxidermist
30 analrapist
31 frustrated nympho
32 standup comedian
33 hunter killer cosplayer
34 chosen one of the vault
35 club foot clubber
36 professional fluffer
37 hermaphrodite
38 town hag
39 town nag
40 non adhesive spiderman
41-50 ghost council
---
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