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 had a really dumb argument with a really smug tokusatsu fan in which said person claimed that Madoka Magica was *incontrovertibly* a rip-off of Kamen Rider Ryuki but that any connections with Goethe's Faust were merely conjecture (let alone homages to serial experiments: lain).
It's like a mild war flashback.
I doubt that was your point at all but goddamnitall that guy pissed me off.
The last episode has a lot of thematic and cinematic parallels with the last episode of that series (particularly in how the world is rewritten), as well as some striking similarities with the finale of Kaiba. The first is a lot more obvious and likely intentional, however.
I want this sample library so bad. It has sound samples from a session where Diego Stocco (a composer/sound designer) recorded the sounds of a Piano that was on fire.
Man is a most complex simple creature: see what he weaves, and how base his reasons for doing so.
When I say "don't re-write song lyrics" I mean it like a rule of writing; Don't start a book with the person describing themself. Stay away from cliches. Don't use two words when one will do.
Which is to say, these are rules, but if you're creative and have mastery over your craft, you can carefully break a rule or two in service of that craft.
Remember back in the 50s when they'd record like Elvis singing YOU AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A HOUND DOG and then they'd turn the record over and reverse it and it was all NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP and people were all like, "That is actually the voice of Satan coming from that song."
Truthfully, I would go out for walks at night sometimes if I weren't worried about being shot
Personally, I'm not so much worried about being shot as much as being beaten the everloving crap out of or stabbed by methheads. Or wilted sunflower man (who may or may not be one of the aforementioned methheads) recognizing me and following me home to try and break in.
For those unaware: A while back I was making my usual rounds in the local shopping district, when some guy with a bucket of wilted sunflowers came up to me and started asking for money. He creeped me out and was oddly persistent about it. Not wanting to make him mad, I gave him the smallest bill I had on hand, which was $5. He gave me one of his sunflowers and then started asking me where I live. That's when I left.
Remember back in the 50s when they'd record like Elvis singing YOU AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A HOUND DOG and then they'd turn the record over and reverse it and it was all NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP and people were all like, "That is actually the voice of Satan coming from that song."
(pretends that my last name was Japanese in the previous game where everything was turned American because lolmarketing)
And then you use March of the Machines to turn it into a creature, Mirrorweave to turn every creature into a copy of it, and Mindslaver to make your opponents tear up all of their cards in a legal fashion.
You have to be thorough when messing with silver-bordered cards.
Comments
my son with 26 martial.
Hooooopefully the "settled down in Miklagard" event does not fire.
it did not fire
I want this sample library so bad. It has sound samples from a session where Diego Stocco (a composer/sound designer) recorded the sounds of a Piano that was on fire.
Huh.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Also something I've never really thought about.
You live in Boulder, right? Or am I mistaken?
Some musician I like is from Denver.
Daughn Gibson maybe? I should look this up.
For those unaware: A while back I was making my usual rounds in the local shopping district, when some guy with a bucket of wilted sunflowers came up to me and started asking for money. He creeped me out and was oddly persistent about it. Not wanting to make him mad, I gave him the smallest bill I had on hand, which was $5. He gave me one of his sunflowers and then started asking me where I live. That's when I left.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead