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."
Lazuli: Ouch. Replace Tylenol with Advil and you get how I felt the other night. Sorry to hear that. Hope you feel better soon.
You too, lee. Things are sounding pretty rough for you.
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
So I decided that since I had up-to-date backup of my stuff already, I might as well reinstall Windows as well.
Now I just have to reinstall all the other software I had on it...
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."
The Pokémon thread is not dead. It is half dead. This way!
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."
Happiness does not have physical mass, so it cannot be weighed in tons. Also, Michigan is worm country, so all the houses are on stilts. No cellars, I mean.
Onward to the dead sea they tramp to drink, unslaked and with horrible gulpings, the salt somnolent inexhaustible flood. And the equine portent grows again, magnified in the deserted heavens, nay to heaven's own magnitude, till it looms, vast, over the house of Virgo. And lo, wonder of metempsychosis, it is she, the everlasting bride, harbinger of the daystar, the bride, ever virgin. It is she, Martha, thou lost one, Millicent, the young, the dear, the radiant. How serene does she now arise, a queen among the Pleiades, in the penultimate antelucan hour, shod in sandals of bright gold, coifed with a veil of what do you call it gossamer. It floats, it flows about her starborn flesh and loose it streams, emerald, sapphire, mauve and heliotrope, sustained on currents of the cold interstellar wind, winding, coiling, simply swirling, writhing in the skies a mysterious writing till, after a myriad metamorphoses of symbol, it blazes, Alpha, a ruby and triangled sign upon the forehead of Taurus.
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 is home to the gods of the underworld, to the one who will never betray. Now my soul will be here for eternity, and the night will be leading my way.
Comments
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B̤̺͍̰͕̺̠̕u҉̖͙̝̮͕̲ͅm̟̼̦̠̹̙p͡s̹͖ ̻T́h̗̫͈̙̩r̮e̴̩̺̖̠̭̜ͅa̛̪̟͍̣͎͖̺d͉̦͠s͕̞͚̲͍ ̲̬̹̤Y̻̤̱o̭͠u̥͉̥̜͡ ̴̥̪D̳̲̳̤o̴͙̘͓̤̟̗͇n̰̗̞̼̳͙͖͢'҉͖t̳͓̣͍̗̰ ͉W̝̳͓̼͜a̗͉̳͖̘̮n͕ͅt͚̟͚ ̸̺T̜̖̖̺͎̱ͅo̭̪̰̼̥̜ ̼͍̟̝R̝̹̮̭ͅͅe̡̗͇a͍̘̤͉͘d̼̜ 
⚢
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Now I just have to reinstall all the other software I had on it...
☭
B̤̺͍̰͕̺̠̕u҉̖͙̝̮͕̲ͅm̟̼̦̠̹̙p͡s̹͖ ̻T́h̗̫͈̙̩r̮e̴̩̺̖̠̭̜ͅa̛̪̟͍̣͎͖̺d͉̦͠s͕̞͚̲͍ ̲̬̹̤Y̻̤̱o̭͠u̥͉̥̜͡ ̴̥̪D̳̲̳̤o̴͙̘͓̤̟̗͇n̰̗̞̼̳͙͖͢'҉͖t̳͓̣͍̗̰ ͉W̝̳͓̼͜a̗͉̳͖̘̮n͕ͅt͚̟͚ ̸̺T̜̖̖̺͎̱ͅo̭̪̰̼̥̜ ̼͍̟̝R̝̹̮̭ͅͅe̡̗͇a͍̘̤͉͘d̼̜ 
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to the revivomobile!
wait isn't that just an ambulance, basically?
Made sense, really
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
We're going to need a substantial amount of horn noises to sample.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
You have to recognize that almost every famous person in history was at least somewhat racist unless they were born after the 30s.
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
Happiness does not have physical mass, so it cannot be weighed in tons. Also, Michigan is worm country, so all the houses are on stilts. No cellars, I mean.
I can't hear it without thinking that Haven is the singer.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Forests - Michigan, Idaho, Northern areas
Islands - California, Florida (NASA), Georgia, Manhattan, etc.
Plains - Tornado Alley/Bible Belt
Swamps - Pittsburgh, Detroit, (Maine - based on an in-joke from the old thread - you had to be there)
I AM YOUR LEADER
Swamps?
SWAMPS????
chores
nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooo
Tell me that isn't one of the coolest sentences ever written
i go walkin' in my sleep
through the desert of truth
to the river so deeeep
oh but the river is wiiide
and it's too hard to cross....
YeeeeaaaaAAAAAH BITE ME!