You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Does anyone else ever want to create an elaborate mystery for others to solve?
For instance:
For each of my devices I use to connect to IRC, I’d set the “real name” field to a few seemingly random characters. But those random characters, when combined with the ones from the other devices, would form a YouTube video ID.
If you view the video, you’d find it’s simply a short clip of me writing a URL encoded with a Caesar cipher.
If you visit the URL, you find…some other clue. And so on.
The only problem: I’m not sure what the end goal should be.
Once, when I was bored, I was looking up the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who. I went onto Google Images, clicked on an image, blinked... And the picture had changed.
I've learned to tolerate drama...except on the boat
but I like metal :(
I'm watching these old videos of Disney Channel promos from when they had this on-air look that defines "It Is The 1990s And We Are Not Sorry!" (despite having been adopted in late 1999, hey, they had to get some '90s in before the decade was over)
There's a promo for Life Size here
I have a vague memory of this movie but never watched it all the way through
Tyra Banks's bad acting looks funny, but Lindsay Lohan's in it...the way she kinda crashed and burned is depressing to me :/
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
I went to Costa to get a hot chocolate, came back, switched a computer on, placed my hot chocolate next to it, then came back to find the fat ignorant twat of the year sat at my computer, despite the fact that my hot chocolate was clearly next to it. I stormed out and got hot chocolate all over my coat. I stormed into the girls toilets and, in a fit of blind range, flung my drink into the sink and splattered it everywhere. I then spent 10 minutes cleaning it up the best I could before breaking down and having a crying fit.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Hell, the fact that she's in it for the money is right there in her name
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
You know, it's too bad god doesn't exist
Because if they did, I'd march right into their office and demand a refund
Or at least demand that my consciousness be put in a suitable body instead of this penis'd crap
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
it's like god DAMN what did i ever do to deserve this
is this my punishment for being an impure person
that's the only thing i can think of
but that's not really fair, because if i'm impure i was impure from the start, so making me be born male is punishing me for something i had no choice in
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
i wonder what the twist at the end of the story is
maybe the twist is that it's not a story at all
because there really doesn't seem to be any narrative to it, at least not in the way that the humans think of narrative
i guess there are certain storytelling elements, like irony, and maybe sometimes foreshadowing, but it seems like the whole "story" thus far has just been a list of things that happened
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
hi Kexruct
i'm a 2003 ford Crown victoria Police interceptor
look at my Red and Blue lights as they flash Throughout the night sky
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
[one snap back to reality later]
I feel an urge to grind my teeth together.
It's somewhat unpleasant.
Also I miss Bobby. It doesn't seem like it takes long for me to miss someone...
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Hmm...today's Friday, which means I can do fun stuff once I've done the one thing I have to do today, which is pick up my brother in the afternoon.
Regular readers of this site -- both of them -- will know that I'm no admirer of the popular beat combos of today. I don't, to my knowledge, like a single song written after 1986, and even before then the only pop and rock I can stand is either a) obvious throwaway camp or b) the product of soulless industrial hacks, who at least imbue what they do with a certain amount of slickness. Otherwise, I can't abide pop, and I especially can't abide pop when it aims to be art.
I've tried to isolate a single reason for this, and here is my tentative result: it's the lyrics. I find pop lyrics at best painfully hokey, and at worst indistinguishable from bad adolescent poetry -- indeed, they often are bad adolescent poetry. The verses of Coldplay, Belle and Sebastian, Morrissey and the like could well have been lifted from poetry.com, or someone's livejournal. Artistically, they belong with the buckets of versified zit-squeeze secreted nightly by sensitive teens across the globe. I'd run a mile from any of this stuff written down, and none of it becomes more bearable when set to sixteen bars of drum and bass. Quite the opposite, in fact. And thanks to an entertainment industry which keeps pop stars, like pet dogs, trapped in a permanent state of adolescence, bad adolescent poetry is all most of them ever produce.
I've repeatedly tried to get into pop and rock, but hokey lyrics have always defeated me. My last such attempt was two years ago, when daily car trips with a Scandinavian coworker made me appreciate at least the theoretical appeal of 70s metal, and even made me curious enough to check it out personally. A friend of a friend, whose musical taste I respect transitively, once claimed that all rock since 1975 was basically just footnotes to Led Zeppelin; so I went and bought Led Zeppelin's classic 1971 album IV, aka "the one with Stairway to Heaven". I went home, pressed play, and prepared to rock! But after a few minutes of listening to a bunch of grown men singing "yeah! yeah! rock'n'roll!" or some such, I began to feel a bit silly. It sounded just like Spinal Tap, only without the irony. I barely made it through the self-serious bombast of Stairway to Heaven (which was doing nothing for me) before I became overcome with embarrassment and had to turn off the CD. I can't say the lyrics were intrinsically sillier than "Hoyotoho-ho" or "Walla-lalla-la", but I guess the riffs weren't grabbing me like those leitmotifs did. I remain content to respect Led Zeppelin from a distance, preferably outside audible range.
When it comes to silly lyrics, it occurs to me that most of the music I like has the benefit of being purely instrumental. Of the vocal music I like, I either don't understand a word of it (as in Vivaldi motets) or find the lyrics actually quite well-written (as in Handel's Messiah, even if they place style over content). The exception is the music of Purcell, who could take dreadful hackwork like Nahum Tate's Birthday Ode for Queen Mary and turn it into something miraculous and joyous and transcendent. But I've yet to find a Purcell of the pop world.
Comments
But... But...
Am I not smart enough?
:(
Once, when I was bored, I was looking up the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who. I went onto Google Images, clicked on an image, blinked... And the picture had changed.
I have snapped. Well and truly snapped.
I went to Costa to get a hot chocolate, came back, switched a computer on, placed my hot chocolate next to it, then came back to find the fat ignorant twat of the year sat at my computer, despite the fact that my hot chocolate was clearly next to it. I stormed out and got hot chocolate all over my coat. I stormed into the girls toilets and, in a fit of blind range, flung my drink into the sink and splattered it everywhere. I then spent 10 minutes cleaning it up the best I could before breaking down and having a crying fit.
I need that specialist help...
I've calmed down a bit, and now blasting music from the Doctor Who soundtrack into my ears to help me forget.
My hands are now scratched as fuck, though...
*hugs*
I hope I can see someone in school...
actually, her name was legally changed from Kesha to Ke$ha due to a misspelling on a pizza sign.
I bet you didn't know that pizza signs were legally binding.
Is there anything that best sums up the worldwide appeal of the beautiful game of soccer than the words "scoreless draw"
also thisI keep expecting Link to pull out a keyblade.
Legend of Zelda is getting progressively more Japanese.
*curls up in ball*
Not looking forwards to this exam.
It seems that Julie Burchill has been suspended from the Obsever paper
I knew it was old, but I didn't know it was that old.
Regular readers of this site -- both of them -- will know that I'm no admirer of the popular beat combos of today. I don't, to my knowledge, like a single song written after 1986, and even before then the only pop and rock I can stand is either a) obvious throwaway camp or b) the product of soulless industrial hacks, who at least imbue what they do with a certain amount of slickness. Otherwise, I can't abide pop, and I especially can't abide pop when it aims to be art.
I've tried to isolate a single reason for this, and here is my tentative result: it's the lyrics. I find pop lyrics at best painfully hokey, and at worst indistinguishable from bad adolescent poetry -- indeed, they often are bad adolescent poetry. The verses of Coldplay, Belle and Sebastian, Morrissey and the like could well have been lifted from poetry.com, or someone's livejournal. Artistically, they belong with the buckets of versified zit-squeeze secreted nightly by sensitive teens across the globe. I'd run a mile from any of this stuff written down, and none of it becomes more bearable when set to sixteen bars of drum and bass. Quite the opposite, in fact. And thanks to an entertainment industry which keeps pop stars, like pet dogs, trapped in a permanent state of adolescence, bad adolescent poetry is all most of them ever produce.
I've repeatedly tried to get into pop and rock, but hokey lyrics have always defeated me. My last such attempt was two years ago, when daily car trips with a Scandinavian coworker made me appreciate at least the theoretical appeal of 70s metal, and even made me curious enough to check it out personally. A friend of a friend, whose musical taste I respect transitively, once claimed that all rock since 1975 was basically just footnotes to Led Zeppelin; so I went and bought Led Zeppelin's classic 1971 album IV, aka "the one with Stairway to Heaven". I went home, pressed play, and prepared to rock! But after a few minutes of listening to a bunch of grown men singing "yeah! yeah! rock'n'roll!" or some such, I began to feel a bit silly. It sounded just like Spinal Tap, only without the irony. I barely made it through the self-serious bombast of Stairway to Heaven (which was doing nothing for me) before I became overcome with embarrassment and had to turn off the CD. I can't say the lyrics were intrinsically sillier than "Hoyotoho-ho" or "Walla-lalla-la", but I guess the riffs weren't grabbing me like those leitmotifs did. I remain content to respect Led Zeppelin from a distance, preferably outside audible range.
When it comes to silly lyrics, it occurs to me that most of the music I like has the benefit of being purely instrumental. Of the vocal music I like, I either don't understand a word of it (as in Vivaldi motets) or find the lyrics actually quite well-written (as in Handel's Messiah, even if they place style over content). The exception is the music of Purcell, who could take dreadful hackwork like Nahum Tate's Birthday Ode for Queen Mary and turn it into something miraculous and joyous and transcendent. But I've yet to find a Purcell of the pop world.