7 articles Tag Duncan

beyond the pale

its really amazing how the actions of goons and mods are so freaking far beyond the pale that its actually impossible for a bystander to believe.

proposal: i am going to make an environmentally sustainable yoga retreat in hawaii

reality: a y2k survivalist paid goons a “food stipend” to help me clearcut a rainforest, dig a road by hand, torture and mutilate animals to death on camera, and bathe in/drink from an improperly filtered kiddy pool that wild hogs shit and pissed in

proposal: i am going to make a fun zipline for kids at camp

reality: a goon spent tens of thousands of dollars constructing a machine that kills children, entirely by accident

proposal: a fad diet thread in the exercise forum

reality: a mentally ill man resembling a melted candle, the pied piper of ham joints, told people that eating nothing but eggs and bacon and lard in paint buckets (they were literally buying and eating buckets full of lard in the name of good health) would not only make them lose weight, but was so healthy it would cure heart disease and cancer. an enormous fat powerlifter who cant run for 20 seconds probated and banned anyone who challenged this wisdom until it lead to a man barely in his 20s being prescribed statins.

proposal: a thread about animal husbandry in the pet forum

reality: a moderator unrepentantly killed animals with ac/dc hadoukens and probated people who asked questions

proposal: a forum for “responsible drug users” and “harm reduction”

reality: a man falls through the earth and into parisian catacombs. taking a torch from the wall he spies row upon row of skeletons. grasping the nearest by the shoulders, he shakes it madly, yelling “my nigga have u tried lsd”


Categories: Reality  /  Tags:

INT. DANK TORTURE BASEMENT – NIGHT

The sound of metal chains whipping against bare flesh hang heavy in the air, like a bird flying into a headwind. The room is damp and sparsely lit. SUPERMECHAGODZILLA’s scarred jowls are illuminated by a desk lamp laying sideways on the floor

SUPERMECHAGODZILA
Which reading is true? Which reading is true? WHICH READING IS TRUE!?

KOOS
[Spits mouthful of blood] The words are used specifically for their literal intention, the events are straightforward so as to be easily understood by an audience of children.

The beating begins again, with a furious vigour, until SUPERMECHAGODZILLA can barely stand. He rests one hand against a dirty wall, sweat marring his 1993 Nebraska Film Festival hypercolor t-shirt.

SUPERMECHAGODZILA
The opposite reading is true… The opposite reading is true. I’ve been to college.

KOOS straightens his posture, his pride and dignity unscathed by the days long assault of a fat, stupid man.

KOOS
Any perceived allusions to facism in A Goofy Movie are a wholesale invention of a misguided viewer.

SUPERMECHAGODZILLA adopts the look of a man who has been defeated. Wearily, he grabs a shotgun that had been resting in the corner, and cocks it loudly.

KOOS
Goofy simply wishes to bond with his son through fishing, a traditional pastime, as he had done with his own father. It is neither parable nor allegory. Neither dog was molested, the material does not support this.


Categories: Fiction  /  Tags:

phismological problems

Take my wife, please! Haha, I’m getting really good at saying that in all kinds of situations because we’ve “agreed” (HEAVILY AIRQUOTING WITH MY FAT UNLOVABLE FINGERS IN FRONT OF MY MONITOR RIGHT NOW) to an open marriage so she doesn’t have to look at my disgusting, bloated body or smell my “phismological problems” as her and my therapist have pejoratively termed it. It is EXTREMELY difficult for me to get the smegma out of there and she KNOWS I’m very sensitive about it, but those two clowns can’t help but yuk it up. Anyway, I’m getting the last laugh because she lets me sit in whenever she has sex with my coworker Steve, but secretly I’m jacking off to him not her. We “agreed” not to feel jealous but I know this would tear her up if she knew, so I’m saving this bomb for next time she asks me to get rid of my Transformers collection. So, other tight foreskin goons, do you have any masturbation tips for pain free pleasure? Share them here!


Categories: Fiction  /  Tags:

the twisty job

first up is the spook, the cia’s man on the twisty job. he wears a sharp suit and the kind of sunglasses that can hide the pleasure in a man’s eyes during an assassination. “bread is gay” says the cia man. he withdraws a laser pointer and a remote control from his inner jacket pocket. clicking the button, the projector protruding from the ceiling whirrs to life, and the far wall is illuminated with an in depth powerpoint presentation. the cia world factbook facts are undeniable. bread IS gay. to make his final point, the via man traces the large, bold letters “bread is gay” individually with his laser pointer on twisty’s vest.

the tears have begun.

next up, the fbi man. special agent mulder. this is a man possessed of less class than the cia man, for sure. a shirt and tie job. this man is less researched, less studious. “anime is gay?”, he intones. twisty dismisses the notion outright. but over the course of his hour long presentation enough circumstancial evidence is presented for a seed of doubt to be planted in twisty’s fragile mine. could it be that anime is gay?

the tears are falling freely now

finally, the nsa man, a slovely beast. he is poorly dressed and his pony tail is tucked into the back of his t-shirt. he is wearing a lanyard. this man knows his way around a computer. this could be the killer blow. he clears his throat: “im permabanned poster niggerstomper58. i first started reading fyad when i was about 12. by 14 i got really obsessed with the concept of “irony” and tried to channel it constantly, until my thought process got really bizarre and i would repeat things like “nigger balls” and “i love shitting inside nigger assholes” in my head for hours, and i would get really paranoid, start seeing things in the corners of my eyes etc, basically prodromal schizophrenia. im now on antipsychotics. i always wondered what the kind of “ironic” style of fyad humor was all about; i think it’s the unconscious leaking in to the conscious, what jungian theory considered to be the cause of schizophrenic and schizotypal syptoms. i would advise all people who “get” fyad to be careful because that likely means you have a predisposition to a mental illness. peace.”


Categories: Fiction  /  Tags:

If I’m strapped, I’m safe, right? Wrong.

If I’m strapped, I’m safe, right? Wrong. Things happen in white suburbia. Rough things, mean things with teeth like uncomfortable wood splinters and eyes that could definitely use some drops, here, I have some in my satchel. Lawn signs go missing. Pink bellies are given out gangland style in the treehouse. Could I really trust this “Gerald”? Where there’s smoke, there’s Fire.

My mind is racing a mile a minute, but my Buzz Lightyear mountain bike a more leisurely 7, perhaps 8 per hour. The final stretch flies by like an egg from Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s island. I park up under a street light and light up a smoke. A small group of children approach; agents of Gerald?

They surround me, intimidate me with the flashing glint of touch screens, they came equipped, equipped to play the hottest games on the console that changes all the rules, Playstation Vita.

“Nice bike, fag,” shatters the silence. Son of a bitch, I’ve been lured into a turf war. Did Gerald ever truly exist? It matters little now, as in one continuous motion I flick my cigarette at the eldest boy and reach for my revolver.


Categories: Fiction  /  Tags:

gods coolest creature, the black man

my girlfriend went to an animes store and there were all these nerdy white kids and fat girls and a lone black kid and there were like boobie mouse mats and embarrassing posters and gay person toys everywhere and i felt like smithers cornered by the strippers

when we walked past the black kid he whispered to his friends in amazement that she looks like a japanese word that i assume was a anime characters name and it was such an awfully sad tableau to see gods coolest creature, the black man, who would ordinarily become a hypersexual detective, or a very good sports player, reduced to such a contemptible state, like a captive lion undernourished by a fibrous diet of boobie mouse pads and wall scrolls


Categories: Reality  /  Tags:

Good night, sweet prince.

Sean was a good Eve player, and a good man. He was one of us. He was a man who loved the indoors… and Eve Online, and as a computer janitor for the Imperalist US Regime he explored the consulates of Northern Libya, from tripoli to Benghazi and… up to… Banghazi. He died, like so many young men of his generation, he died before his time. In your wisdom, Lord, you took him, as you took so many bright flowering young men at Kor-Azor, at Cloud Ring, at J7HZ-F. These young men gave their lives playing a lot of a spreadsheet video game for autistics. And so would Sean. Sean, who loved Eve Online. And so, Sean “The Vile Rat” Smith, in accordance with what we think your dying wishes might well have been, we commit your final mortal remains to the bosom of the Sahara Desert, which you loved so well. Good night, sweet prince.


Categories: Fiction  /  Tags: