Whirlwind Reaping: Is It Right for America?

[Master Trollda]

Why aren't you better than this? Is it right for America, or just your legal bills?

Hey, if you can bore the fuck out of all of us with grapefruit and Rubini references until the end of time along with your stupid tarot card readings and such then surely my responses are less egregious.

[Jackstar]

Hey, if you can bore the fuck out of all of us with grapefruit and (PROT) references

I wish I could update your RSS feed for you. So much good news to share, they do them, I do me. (I do it pretty well!)

I give you permission to stop being jelly. Don't make me make it an or-dah.

[Jackstar]

your stupid tarot card readings

©®
That's why they should have given me a missed test marker. That brand right there, that brand is money.

[Master Trollda]

I wish I could update your RSS feed for you. So much good news to share, they do them, I do me. (I do it pretty well!)

I give you permission to stop being jelly bored as fuck with your dumb shit. Don't make me make it an or-dah.

FIFY

[Master Trollda]

©®
That's why they should have given me a missed test marker. That brand right there, that brand is money.

[Jackstar]

FIFY

You didn't get the better HALF. (You were played, are being played, and if you haven't stabbed that player in the calf with one of those knives I gave you for Christmas yet, well... that's probably because no one remembered to open the goddam package. Gift-wrapped and everything, sheeeit.

[Master Trollda]

You didn't get the better HALF. (You were played, are being played, and if you haven't stabbed that player in the calf with one of those knives I gave you for Christmas yet, well... that's probably because no one remembered to open the goddam package. Gift-wrapped and everything, sheeeit.

I think a more approriate spelling of your name for the person you are now is Michael Coozey.

[Jackstar]

I think a more approriate spelling of your name for the person you are now is Michael Coozey.

Still superior to Michael Decon and/or Pastor. Been having a good time I see. Don't go to my office, it's been fumigated.

[Jackstar]

Don't go to my office, it's been fumigated.

IT DIDN'T HELP MUCH. GATE OPENED IRREGARDLESS OF KEY STATUS.
KNOW: I WASN'T EVEN THIRSTY.
WHEN IN ROME.

KU3

[WORTHAUGERa]

Anita gets a Doctorate for this. [...] (and T. Trump too.)

WTF?! Why did you totes gay this thread up with tarot card readings? ::)

Trump who?

Like the wind, People, like the whirlwind. (Promises made. Promises kept. Promises DELIVERED.) REAP IT.

Code: [Select]

seriously. she doesn't want a pardon, she wants a doctorate. Can you blame her? Yes. Is that a good idea? oh shit oh fug AWW HELLS NO *click*

Hi, I'm Michael Jackstar-Jesus-Juicy-Not_Jewish-Jumpmaninoff Clifford BridgeT-T'morn(A-B) KUCZI-Gomez, and, well... yeah, that's a legitimate penname. For now. Yeah, it's not a mouthful at all, unless its a mouth of Ipecac Syrup. (I am barely immune. Would prefer death by Iocane, if you want me to tell the truth about it.) Anyway, I liked a hyphenated surname so little, I kept killing myself immediately after my Christening, oh, nineteen or nineteen-thousand, five hundred times or so after I found out that it was the latest artificially imposed restriction I was gonna have to deal with... because it didn't seem fair to ruin everyone else's birthday without ruining my own first. Sure, I didn't need to create -that- many spare archival copies in Astral--fuckin' just one -would- have sufficed--but I figure, make way for the future, because I doubt anyone is going to be teaching the children well on any timeline around here for awhile, and it never hurts to overbuild--it only ever costs.

So, why give out one doctorate, when two is the same price this time, and this one time only? Because I don't need mine on paper. SHE DOES. So I, Jackstar, just this once, I AM THE DELIVERER OF DREAMS, urge you, Nameless Nictorate Boss... Anita Leigh-Anne Hutchison deserves a doctorate. (I forget in what. Call her and ask. If she's dead, take some ayhausca. Look, Dude--filling in the blanks on paper tigers with calligraphy and curlie-ques without making a spelling error... yeah, it might sound like some of that is my area, and yet--it snot. As strange as that may seem to someone who works at a college no one can see or a university that no one knows the point of. Shit, mang, how do you sharpen your fuckin' quill pens for all that goddam calligraphy, do you just pluck a feather every time you write a sentence? Yeah, I bet, kill the whole bird, why not, I bet you're pretty hungry after an all-day sea-food diet. Anyway, enough bullshit:

She wants a doctorate, and from here, I need to rest. I'll come back to push this over the finish line, assuming that this is YET ANOTHER THING that You People can't do without hanging me up on the Elk's horns like it was more than just a dryin' rack for Ke$ha's pants. (Hey! I think I found those pants! They are so comfy, and that would also explain why I feel like the most bad ass slut that has ever lived when I wear them--and they fuckin' fit. See, now that's amazing, because I know I used to be fat, but I don't know about her. *looks totesinnocent* btw, did they finish punishing her rapist yet? Is anyone else working on that dipshit? Because me and my Team want it to be our turn next.

And it'll be the last turn ever needed, guaranteed, or else--why then, we'll just take another turn. Who wouldn't be satisfied then? Meanwhile, doctorate. A paper doctorate. Let's go, chop-chop, A. L.-A. H. ain't gonna be young forever, amirite? You fuckin' know it, Tootsie. SOLiD AMERICAN.)

GATE OPENED IRREGARDLESS OF KEY STATUS.

One of the most beautiful women in the world--that I have -ever- seen--came to my house last night, and in spite of what I am telling you, because of protocol, I didn't even open the door. Not even a crack. (My door's windows panels are augmented with Eldritch etching. I'm not gonna like. My T.A.R.D.I.S. is anything but retarded.) I've been working on this operation for years of my life, and, make no mistake, this -IS- a military operation, and it -always- was. And when it comes to making snap decisions, sure, I have rather a lot of, uh, ah... "bodily autonomy," let us say.

However, even if I could have pulled it off on the fly after yet another sudden snap-heel-turn and pivot-hut-hut-honey maneuver --and make no mistake and have no doubt, I bloody well could have-- if I start waving off every VTOL that's not carrying a blue-eyed blond, people are going to start getting suspicious, even if the only reason is that I don't wanna make my (blank) overly jealous. Seriously. It'll cause a ruckus. There will be a scene. We're already at levels of boiling baby bunnies that shoudn't even be possible without getting too close. John Glenn close. You feel me?

Yeah. Also, my cousin would have killed me. Tell you what, let him fuck that one... Or at least, give him a fighting chance, before she fucks him right back to the future. The future he tried to "save," for "Him," yeah no doubt, bug-boy, and after all that confiscation protection, obvious result resulted: ended up letting get the whole dam PlanetFamily stolen. Again. Cuz, like, do you even read books that don't positively reek of engine oil or cigars smoked on a poker table, or do you just smell the panties that you carry them around in for camouflage while throwing them into the nearest mailbox? (By the way: books don't go in the mail like that, and that box isn't for mail: that's a laundry chute that leads to the basement incinerator on the politicized persecutions level. Smooth.) SMDH-451.

[WORTHAUGERa]

FIFY ;)

Nigga, you couldn't fix a fucking horse with a pair of pipe-hitters and a blowtorch without stopping to get high for eight or nine days while relentlessly and repetitively Joogling the phrase "how do I cut a paladin's balls off" first. You wanna fix something? Well, number one: Give Knox a grant. That poor bastard Bob has been waiting patiently this whole goddam time. Look at that wallflower. 58D!

Then cut that grant in half and give both of them WITH her Doctorate to Anita. She'll be so fucking happy with two big piles of money, one fancy piece of paper--I just hope she doesn't end up using it to wrap some fish in the very first week, oh here's an idea: have it laminated--and with only two hands to hold 3 Fabulous Objects... she'll probably just drop the money and use those hands--yeah, those are human hands, alright, just ignore the thumbs for now-- to roll it up (note: flexible lamination is critical) and slip it right up into her twat/snatch/vaj/vadge|CUNT\cooze\kooze vaginal orifice.

Now, I know that sounds like a ridiculous thing for a Doctor of (Blank) to do--nevertheless, I know this "woman" pretty goddam well. Yeah, I know, right? "Woman." My sides are in orbit and my eyeballs are rolling around on the floor looking for the Great Glass Elevator call button. Nevertheless, that's a human woman, I don't need to spell her name for you AGAIN, and in spite of any appearance to the contrary, this is NOT a pity, honorary, bullshit Doctorate. She's earned it. She has done the work. Now, give it to her, or I will show them -exactly- which text messages came from you, and which came from him. (Do not think that I cannot do this: I just don't want to, but I have been prepared to have been asked for going on three years now.) I can smell your fear from here.

CLENCH ALL THE WAY UP, TOM "TROLLDA" COLLINS, FINISH THAT GIN AND TONIC, AND START SPREADING THE JUICE.



(No, not on a bagel. Way to turn a joke racist, yeesh. No wonder they made you my bitch. It couldn't have been because either of us are each so pretty in our own ways, we already are our own cantaloupes, and you're the one who brings eggplant parmigiana to work in a BJ & The Bear lunch box. Like could you be any more obvious? Pfftt.)

[Master Trollda]

Nigga, you couldn't fix a fucking horse with a pair of pipe-hitters and a blowtorch without stopping to get high for eight or nine days while relentlessly and repetitively Joogling the phrase "how do I cut a paladin's balls off" first. You wanna fix something? Well, number one: Give Knox a grant. That poor bastard Bob has been waiting patiently this whole goddam time. Look at that wallflower. 58D!

Then cut that grant in half and give both of them WITH her Doctorate to Anita. She'll be so fucking happy with two big piles of money, one fancy piece of paper--I just hope she doesn't end up using it to wrap some fish in the very first week, oh here's an idea: have it laminated--and with only two hands to hold 3 Fabulous Objects... she'll probably just drop the money and use those hands--yeah, those are human hands, alright, just ignore the thumbs for now-- to roll it up (note: flexible lamination is critical) and slip it right up into her twat/snatch/vaj/vadge|CUNT\cooze\kooze vaginal orifice.

Now, I know that sounds like a ridiculous thing for a Doctor of (Blank) to do--nevertheless, I know this "woman" pretty goddam well. Yeah, I know, right? "Woman." My sides are in orbit and my eyeballs are rolling around on the floor looking for the Great Glass Elevator call button. Nevertheless, that's a human woman, I don't need to spell her name for you AGAIN, and in spite of any appearance to the contrary, this is NOT a pity, honorary, bullshit Doctorate. She's earned it. She has done the work. Now, give it to her, or I will show them -exactly- which text messages came from you, and which came from him. (Do not think that I cannot do this: I just don't want to, but I have been prepared to have been asked for going on three years now.) I can smell your fear from here.

CLENCH ALL THE WAY UP, TOM "TROLLDA" COLLINS, FINISH THAT GIN AND TONIC, AND START SPREADING THE JUICE.



(No, not on a bagel. Way to turn a joke racist, yeesh. No wonder they made you my bitch. It couldn't have been because either of us are each so pretty in our own ways, we already are our own cantaloupes, and you're the one who brings eggplant parmigiana to work in a BJ & The Bear lunch box. Like could you be any more obvious? Pfftt.)

The only thing I fear are more of you TL;DR posts...because they’re so truly lame.

[Roswells, Art]

The only thing I fear are more of you TL;DR posts...because they’re so truly lame.

He's not wrong. Are you getting paid by the word?

[Jackstar]

The only thing I fear are more of you TL;DR posts...because they’re so truly lame.

You're the worst Jedi Master that has ever lived. You should have taught me the "pick your phone up at a distance and put it on charge" trick, and by now, I would have innovated upon that tech multiple times over. Now that you only fear one thing, well, you should check out that tree down in Dagobah, where it bubbles all the time like a giant carbonated steel kettle drum filled with Polish sauerkraut.

Also, I lied. I am a jedi. it's even the same letters! "Master," hah. I bet you suck at Scrabble too.

He's not wrong. Are you getting paid by the word?

Are you getting paid? Who is getting paid? Do these questions belong in the Roz thread or the pate thread or the gtfo of town thread? Like welcome back potter, klease just shoot me. I'm going to my phone's location now. I'm going to pick it up, and start dialing whores until I find your mother--who is a beaut, but perhaps not a whore, so I imagine I'll have to hit quite a few numbers if I ever get to her.

But at least, I will try.

[Master Trollda]