User Panel
Posted: 8/21/2004 8:41:57 PM EDT
Are their carrots eating my brain or is my mind orange with the flavor of their waves that flood your minds and deflect to me in some sort of Jungian connection of us all? They're blind to me alone if my purse is kept under the silvered floorboards of my mind - away from their devilish intents. No - you all think this is a joke ha but you have no idea how they gnash their teeth in the shadows of the world you create to hide their hooks and strings, all the while carrying on under the rot of their tyranny. Yes, there it is I said it - and I now I know I'm not alone on this board as I lay on the floor of my shielded mind, only alone in being safe from their treacherous orange-flavored lies. I curse you to stay away from me for you are all antennae and beacons and tiny glances that will surely betray me if I remain among you. You don't see the leaves gathering on the ground around you, orange and wet and red and golden, when only the silvered linings will protect your mind from the horror of the Duchilis that surely awaits you. Make your bed. The flavor and embers of your soul are all LIES I tell you - LIES! You are just the strings that vibrate to the rotted twig-like fingers that stretch across the veil and enter the world we call ours. Only if you drink the bitter sap that oozes from the Larches beyond the porch will you know the truth. |
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Peyote is some good shit, man...Hunter S. Thompson over for the weekend?
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shut it, post whore |
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Naw... It's Private Joker struggling with the duality of man.
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Yes.
The Blonde one was flirting with the Lucid Cannon in the kingdom of the purple hangover while driving the magenta love blimp, while searching for the pink gorilla of truth. Lies were told, and in the end only the aluminum remnant was spared digestion in the belly of the Giant Slor. I see your groove, Obi Wan Kenobong. Word. SG Booze is a wonderful thing, no? |
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Alright fine, let's just do it then. Gimme you're best fucking shot and better make it a good one 'cuz if you don't kill me you're only gonna wish you were killed in your crib motherfucker! |
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Oh don't EVEN fucking start that shit with me mutherfucker!!!! |
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You see, it's not the assholes that make the tin-foil, it's the assholes that wear it.
The banks are the ones that make it possible for the assbags to declare foul, and to twist the truth!. The old Oak says don't worry about the present, as it's going to be the past soon enough. The fiddler is a dork... he's really a computer geek who just couldn't let the truth lie. Stop the carrots, those dark orange brethren of feces. I say let loose the red, and let the beets decide the future. Yea..... Stop the carrots. |
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Ok, enough already. I'll cash your check. |
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There is no escape from the hooks and strings that stretch from the birth of light. How can the light have been first when it was formed from the darkness? Therein lies the waves that turn our faces away from their lairs and their lies and instead force us to seek out mirrors and false reflections of a world we construct to hide the only exit from their prison. |
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Preaching to the choir again? Whatever!
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While the mirrors show what we want, only the reflections describe what paths our actions will take.
You know the truth. It's up to you to figure out how to make the truth our future. Or would you rather rat us out to the enemies of the fiddler. Screw it... You're as ignorant as the leaves. |
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The strings of Righteous Fiddler have no illumination for a blasphemer who mocks the power of the leaves! Repent brother. Repent. |
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One should not drink and post as you will put your eye out. |
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The fiddler has stole my tongue.... and my ability to post pics...
The leaves know.. and the leaves tell.. Maybe it's you who the leave regret telling? |
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That reminds me....time to clean out the Chat room Hookah again.
SGatr15 |
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I think we're built with a seven-year lifespan. How different are you now than you were seven years ago? How many lives have you lived so far? |
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"There was something wet and gloomy in the green of my desk(as brown darkness flared in the window where my mudblack apple tree branches reached in to touch my sleep), something hopeless, gray, dreary, nineteen-thirty-ish, lostish, broken not in the wind a cry but a big dull blurt hanging dumbly in a gray brown mass of semi-late-afternoon cloudy darkness and pebble grit Void of sweaty sticky clothes and dawg despair---something that can't possibly come back again in America and history, the gloom of the unaccomplished mud-heap civilization when it gets caught with---City Hall golf politicians and clerks who also played golf complained that the river had drowned all the fairways and tees, these knickers types were disgruntled by natural phenomena. By Friday the crest had been passed through town and the river starts going down. 'But the damage has been done'."-
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Ok, who put LSD in Mac's scotch?
Remember the Alamo, and God Bless Texas... |
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He's lost it... posting Dungeons and Dragons pictures and talking like a poetry professor. We need men in white coats ASAP. - BUCC_Guy |
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This isn't about LSD, nor is it about how much Scotch Mac sucks down. This is about the Fiddler, the leaves, and the strings the fiddler strums. Let us remember only those things that matter. Let us remember who spoke the truth. |
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Don't fuck with me or I'll vote liberarian! Got it bucko?? Sgatr15 |
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Did you mean librarian? |
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Soooo your finger prints look like deep mountain valleys and the wall is melting tell me more tell me more.
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You're a front. I see things that no one else can. And I see you're not really The_Groovinator but someone else. And though you speak of the truth, your mask dries the dew that feeds the truth that seeps from the wet hickory leaves. Hmmmm..... |
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Hickory leaves, only fall from the Hickory tree.
One day the truth will seek out us all. One day... we will once again seek out the fiddler. One day we must decide, between what we believe, and what we know. One day the strings will become our thoughts. One day we will die. You have a good night Mac. |
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No I'm sorry - there is NO haircut or salami that is soaking in the fermented spoils of any mashed grain tonight. If you were inside a black cat just a few minutes ago, you'd know why I say this. |
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HEY NOW! Don't be hatin' the professors! |
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It's all good. |
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I'm on my fifth. |
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