ITT we right some thing that is way too damn long for anyone to read. Also, it may not be kopipe either. It must be an original nonsensical writing. If you do not do this, then I will come to your house and kill you, with the aid of some nuclear monster, ha ha ha. The reason for this is that the current fiscal policies of the institutionalized industry's industrialized institution conspire to regulate an artificial market cap via the preprocessed use of insider trading cards. With the manufacture of one of these steamrollers, one is able to invade the magma while flotating circularly and widely in E-space. E-space is very weird. It is weird because in E-space, the normal rules of conductivity and connectivity and distributability of addition over multiplication do not apply, and also things are weird. Do not try to inhale the worst of it, since the government has locked a snapping turtle in the ocean for 20 days and 19 nights in order to get camera footage of the events activated when a turtle prepares to evade its confines through the use of a bat. Baseball bats are very useful as weapons, and this one use is not to be underestimated in its scope, widespread application, or applicability. The reason for that? Well, none really. I was just walking through the desert, and I had nothing better to do, so I decided to step on a cactus. Oh man, that hurt. I had needles stuck in my foot for days. Fortunately, the needles went away and I embarked on a rollicking adventure that was fun for the whole family, or would have been, if I had a family. Thankfully, I don't mind too much not having one. I will probably die alone, but that is all I deserve. Various helium compounds were found in the lower chest of my room following my death, which prompted investigators to go have a beer and celebrate a job well done. The lambda calculus was responsible for all this. Introns make up about 25% of DNA. Most of DNA is this intergenic structural stuff with patterns, and some people consider it introns, and it doesn't code for anything, but it is very important, because if you examine the statistics, you will find that people whose DNA is heavily mutated in this part will have lots of genetic diseases, and it seems as though possibly these parts of DNA are required for DNA copying to be reliable, for structural reasons, so like the people with the genetic diseases, their cells make more mistakes when copying DNA, and that messes up the extrons, or functional parts, too, which are only around 1%. I know this is all true because I read it on Wikipedia, though, granted, there was a [citation needed] tag next to pretty much every sentence, and a big scary warning at the top of the section said it was all disputed, but I'm sure there's no real problem, just some troll messing with the site or something. I love Wikipedia so much that I have already renewed my subscription for next year. It would be even better though if they didn't have a subscription fee. Do you ever wonder where the word "embark" came from? Apparently it is because to embark on a journey originally involved getting yourself stuck in the bark of a tree. (To do this required playing a game with a really bad physics engine.) This was required, as it was believed to be some spiritual tradition, granting good luck from the god of stupidly getting yourself stuck in a tree before setting out on a journey. In retrospect, that was pretty stupid, but so is your face, aside from the pretty part. Your face is just ugly stupid. I enjoy doing cocaine. Not really, I have never done cocaine, but you should try it, because I hate you, and want you to ruin your life and die. Ha ha.
Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went to Yoshinoya a while ago; you know, Yoshinoya?
Well anyways there was an insane number of people there, and I couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "150 yen off" written on it.
Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots.
You, don't come to Yoshinoya just because it's 150 yen off, fool.
It's only 150 yen, 1-5-0 YEN for crying out loud.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for some Yoshinoya, huh? How fucking nice.
"Alright, daddy's gonna order the extra-large." God I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you 150 yen if you get out of those seats.
Yosinoya should be a bloody place.
That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped table can start a fight at any time,
the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Women and children should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start eating, and then the bastard beside me goes "extra-large, with extra sauce."
Who in the world orders extra sauce nowadays, you moron?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want to eat it with extra sauce?"
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "extra sauce"?
Coming from a Yoshinoya veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, extra green onion.
That's right, extra green onion. This is the vet's way of eating.
Extra green onion means more green onion than sauce. But on the other hand the price is a tad higher. This is the key.
And then, it's delicious. This is unbeatable.
However, if you order this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the employees from next time on; it's a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it to amateurs.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with today's special.
Poe, E.
Near a RavenMidnights so dreary, tired and weary.
Silently pondering volumes extolling all by-now obsolete lore.During my rather long nap - the weirdest tap!
An ominous vibrating sound disturbing my chamber's antedoor.
"This", I whispered quietly, "I ignore".Perfectly, the intellect remembers: the ghostly fires, a glittering ember.
Inflamed by lightning's outbursts, windows cast penumbras upon this floor.Sorrowful, as one mistreated, unhappy thoughts I heeded:
That inimitable lesson in elegance - Lenore -
Is delighting, exciting...nevermore.Ominously, curtains parted (my serenity outsmarted),
And fear overcame my being - the fear of "forevermore".Fearful foreboding abided, selfish sentiment confided,
As I said, "Methinks mysterious traveler knocks afore.
A man is visiting, of age threescore."Taking little time, briskly addressing something: "Sir," (robustly)
"Tell what source originates clamorous noise afore?Disturbing sleep unkindly, is it you a-tapping, so slyly?
Why, devil incarnate!--" Here completely unveiled I my antedoor--
Just darkness, I ascertained - nothing more.While surrounded by darkness then, I persevered to clearly comprehend.
I perceived the weirdest dream...of everlasting "nevermores".Quite, quite, quick nocturnal doubts fled - such relief! - as my intellect said,
(Desiring, imagining still) that perchance the apparition was uttering a whispered "Lenore".
This only, as evermore.Silently, I reinforced, remaining anxious, quite scared, afraid,
While intrusive tap did then come thrice - O, so stronger than sounded afore."Surely" (said silently) "it was the banging, clanging window lattice."
Glancing out, I quaked, upset by horrors hereinbefore,
Perceiving: a "nevermore".Completely disturbed, I said, "Utter, please, what prevails ahead.
Repose, relief, cessation, or but more dreary 'nevermores'?"The bird intruded thence - O, irritation ever since! -
Then sat on Pallas' pallid bust, watching me (I sat not, therefore),
And stated "nevermores".Bemused by raven's dissonance, my soul exclaimed, "I seek intelligence;
Explain thy purpose, or soon cease intoning forlorn 'nevermores'!""Nevermores", winged corvus proclaimed - thusly was a raven named?
Actually maintain a surname, upon Pluvious seashore?
I heard an oppressive "nevermore".My sentiments extremely pained, to perceive an utterance so plain,
Most interested, mystified, a meaning I hoped for."Surely," said the raven's watcher, "separate discourse is wiser.
Therefore, liberation I'll obtain, retreating heretofore -
Eliminating all the 'nevermores' ".Still, the detestable raven just remained, unmoving, on sculptured bust.
Always saying "never" (by a red chamber's door).A poor, tender heartache maven - a sorrowful bird - a raven!
O, I wished thoroughly, forthwith, that he'd fly heretofore.
Still sitting, he recited "nevermores".The raven's dirge induced alarm - "nevermore" quite wearisome.
I meditated: "Might its utterances summarize of a calamity before?"O, a sadness was manifest - a sorrowful cry of unrest;
"O," I thought sincerely, "it's a melancholy great - furthermore,
Removing doubt, this explains 'nevermores' ".Seizing just that moment to sit - closely, carefully, advancing beside it,
Sinking down, intrigued, where velvet cushion lay afore.A creature, midnight-black, watched there - it studied my soul, unawares.
Wherefore, explanations my insight entreated for.
Silently, I pondered the "nevermores"."Disentangle, nefarious bird! Disengage - I am disturbed!"
Intently its eye burned, raising the cry within my core."That delectable Lenore - whose velvet pillow this was, heretofore,
Departed thence, unsettling my consciousness therefore.
She's returning - that maiden - aye, nevermore."Since, to me, that thought was madness, I renounced continuing sadness.
Continuing on, I soundly, adamantly forswore:"Wretch," (addressing blackbird only) "fly swiftly - emancipate me!"
"Respite, respite, detestable raven - and discharge me, I implore!"
A ghostly answer of: "nevermore"." 'Tis a prophet? Wraith? Strange devil? Or the ultimate evil?"
"Answer, tempter-sent creature!", I inquired, like before."Forlorn, though firmly undaunted, with 'nevermores' quite indoctrinated,
Is everything depressing, generating great sorrow evermore?
I am subdued!", I then swore.In answer, the raven turned - relentless distress it spurned.
"Comfort, surcease, quiet, silence!" - pleaded I for."Will my (abusive raven!) sorrows persist unabated?
Nevermore Lenore respondeth?", adamantly I encored.
The appeal was ignored."O, satanic inferno's denizen -- go!", I said boldly, standing then.
"Take henceforth loathsome "nevermores" - O, to an ugly Plutonian shore!Let nary one expression, O bird, remain still here, replacing mirth.
Promptly leave and retreat!", I resolutely swore.
Blackbird's riposte: "nevermore".So he sitteth, observing always, perching ominously on these doorways.
Squatting on the stony bust so untroubled, O therefore.Suffering stark raven's conversings, so I am condemned, subserving,
To a nightmare cursed, containing miseries galore.
Thus henceforth, I'll rise (from a darkness, a grave) -- nevermore! -- Original: E. Poe
-- Redone by measuring circles. No.
Post too long. Click to view the whole post or the thread page.
-------------------- 11/02/01
What's New in NESten
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NESten 0.61 Beta 1 (11/02/01)
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NESten 0.6 Beta Final (4/23/00)
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NESten 0.6 Beta Epitah (3/17/00)
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Nobody read the first post that said the writing has to be original. I am offended. I now present to you a dissertation on spaghetti knives.
Ahem.
I remember the first spaghetti knife.
I was 13, or maybe 11. Anyway. Spaghetti knives. I found one, and I plunged it into my brother, who has lice, or did, before I plunged the spaghetti knife into him, because after that he bled to death, so any infestations of any shape or form became irrelevant as his life force dissipated into quicksand beneath the remote control, which I promptly discovered. "So THERE's where it had been!" I exclaimed.
Fortunately, I was not a member of a rock band, so did not have any groupies. But I did have spaghetti knives. Let me tell you something about spaghetti knives. They're sharp, and they are made for cutting hard, tough spaghetti, such as spinach pasta before it's cooked. In other words, they are just like me, because I, too, am sharp. Okay, really this is not true. I am dull as a doornail. I am only trying to make myself appear sharp in order to attract groupies, as I haven't given up on the whole rock star thing, even though I thrice admitted to myself I don't play an instrument, never have, never will, don't want to, yet somehow the idea is appealing to me, insofar as I would prefer it to drowning to death in the Mariana Trench. I'd rather drown to death, if I had a choice, in one of the lakes of upstate New York. I'm not sure whether northwest New York counts as upstate, but that's what I have in mind. I went to a concert up there once, it was troublesome getting there, but when I did, it was great, because there were lots of groupies. The only problem was that they were for the bands performing, and not me. I tried shouting things from the audience, but this actually didn't help, and was in fact a little embarrassing. Next time I might shout about something other than my personal hygiene failings. I don't know, it just was the most angsty thing I could think of at the time, to announce that no matter how many times I run the electric toothbrush, I still can't get rid of that last bit of armpit hair. Perhaps I need to master the lost art of mumbling.
As I breathe, I hear curtains rising and falling in Venice. That's probably why Venice is so popular. You know, before they had Venice, people used to go to Florida for vacation. You'd go to Florida, stay in a resort mall, and there would be all these homes around you, totally trying to zoom in on you. It was a hectic experience, and left you totally wasted by the time you were done doing drugs -- and stabbing your immediate relatives with spaghetti knives.
Ah, spaghetti knives, though. But who can forget that information desk in St. Augustine? The one where the colors meshed into a mess? I thought the yellow would never be able to explain that away, but his wife, green, took his excuses at face value, even though -- seriously -- how do you explain away coming home in the middle of the canvas covered with flecks of blue?
Well, I never. And this is one of my flaws: I never. Ask anyone. Ask my neighbors, Drew and Judy. They'll tell you the same thing I'm telling you: I never. Never ever ever. Never never. Never say never, whatever the weather.
I never. So sometimes I need a public flogging -- complete with frogging -- in order to admit my flaws and move on. It's just hard for me to push myself. I'm glad we're getting this out in the open here, so we can move on -- but do what, where, move on where? But I don't know that I want to move on. I may not be ready to. I just filled out a loan application, and I want to hear back from the bank before I move on, because there might be a fee on getting a forwarding address, and I don't want to risk it. My investment in various stocks and bonds has resulted in sexual intercourse, but not for me. It's not a great thing to talk about, really. Stocks and bonds. It sounds good, but it's not, once you really get into it; they eat you up, eat you alive. It's like being stabbed in the gut with... but I digress.
[continued...]
The real value of any cultural product is in the entertainment value it possesses. Look at the grease tray. If this were simply a cast-iron tray, what purpose would it serve? Exactly the same one it does now, right? You think. You think so. Well, that's not all; there's more to the picture. Because the dye-pressed grease tray also has aesthetical appeal. You see pictures on it: pictures of hand taking hand in hand, and well, you know where it goes from there: before long they're sitting in an artesian well, all sweaty, sweaty palms, drinking the spring water to cool themselves down, and there's a green tea vending machine, but no one uses it, because how can you make tea with cold water? You can, actually, but it requires ingenuity, and that's the subject of a fascinating thesis that was, frankly, boring as all get out, and filled me with such ennui that I thought I'd never recover.
Just like a grapefruit, after you cut it up with a spaghetti knife.
-- a Mark Twain quote(Courtesy of the Mark Twain for President campaign, April 11, 1902. Why he was running in a non-election year, nobody knows. Serious controversy has erupted, but so have various volcanoes, according to popular theories: however, their remains provide no conclusive evidence -- there remains, profitably, no conclusive evidence -- for the theory of mass explosion of carefully designed and rigged volcanoes, no matter how jerry-built. Can't stop? Then go. Continue doing what works for you. Do until you've done your due. Don't sit by and let dew cover you up. You get covered up if you don't do something with that hair of yours. You really should. It's so brown, like a hair color turning brown for the very first (and last) time. This has been a presentation of Shield Industries, protecting you from spaghetti knives for over... oh, let's say 30 years, although really it's more like 10. A faithful sound reproduction is in order, but not here. Spaghetti knives.)*
*Footnote: Spaghetti knives are cool.
this thread is annoying. really.
Article from: Reuters
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US pop singer Britney Spears says she "truly hit rock bottom" during a stint in rehabilitation this year but told fans she did not blame her behaviour on alcohol or depression.
"I was like a bad kid running around with ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder)," she wrote on her website, www.britneyspears.com. "I confess, I was so lost."
"I think the whole problem was letting too many people into my life," the 25-year-old singer said. "You never know another person's intentions or what another person wants."
Earlier this year, Spears split from her second husband, aspiring rapper Kevin Federline, with whom she has two children. She entered rehab after a spree of high-profile partying and erratic behaviour such as shaving off her hair.
Spears said she hoped her new letter would make people "think a little bit more of me and where I am coming from," adding that she tries to make herself numb to stories written about her rather than getting angry.
"I do see the world with a completely different set of eyes now," Spears said. "I do still have a lot to learn, and I am going to make mistakes everyday, and I am sure every mistake I make will probably be on CNN or Good Morning America."
Spears told fans about having to "cut so many people out of my life" after learning that some were taking advantage of her vulnerability and her wealth.
"Some of the people in my life made more of some issues than was necessary," she said, citing as an example her hitting the party scene after her divorce.
"I think it is actually normal for a young girl to go out after a huge divorce. I think it was a bigger issue because I had not gone out in such a long time," said Spears, who has not released an album since 2003.
After leaving rehab in March, which she described as a "humbling" experience, Spears completed a divorce agreement with Federline and fired her manager Larry Rudolph. Spears said she is now dealing with insecurities from her childhood.
She is trying to stage a comeback, performing for the first time in more than three years this month with a series of 15-minute shows at various nightclubs and reportedly working on her fifth album.
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Well never mind that >>1 , so I was going to subway to get a foot long tuna sandwich for my self, and suddenly its full of people, you can't even drop a pin. Then I read the banner and it says one dollar off any sandwich, I mean one fucking dollar.
So I wait in the line forever and this FAT CHICK orders a subway, bet she thinks she can start loosing by fucking eating like a pig, but thats not where it ends. She bitches to the poor sandwich maker about how her bread is brown after being toasted.
ITS FUCKING WHOLE WHEAT BREAD bitch, of course its a little grayish after you order it toasted.
hah, I bet she just wanted to fucking say the work TOASTED just to try to sound cool for a second. SO anyways, when it comes to ordering what to put in her fucking sandwich, guess what she orders? huh? nothing but only chicken, double chicken. And by double chicken I mean its this whole lotta fucking chicken that no normal person can eat, not even the ugly chubby girl. So after all that bullshit she gets her chicken sandwich and orders to have North West sauce on it, then I'm like what in the FUCK? the sandwich maker looks at her confused while I realize she probably was going to order southwest sauce, any way, the sandwich guy ignores her stupidity and get her the southwest sauce without correcting her. I was PISSED off , I just wanted to cut her fucking her off right on the spot and feed to all those jackasses there showing up for a one $ discount. Any ways, after all that shit, she also orders some extra mayo , fucking extra mayo with southwest and chicken , what the fuck is she thinking?
God , I hate these people , what the FUCK IS wrong with them.