Doritos to make 'lady-friendly' chips that don't crunch for women
This is one of today's headlines that made me smile. Chips that don't crunch. Next, it will be horseshit that smells like apricots.
What the fuck is wrong with this world? Ingredients found in McDonald's french fries can cure baldness (saw the pic of a pig growing spots of black hair) Spray for body odor. Bra's to turn saggy breasts into perky peaks. Viagra to make a limp dick hard.
But, getting back to the Dorito's. The article said women want to be polite and eat chips quietly? Huhhhhh? Today's women, especially from 'civilized' countries don't give a flying flip about politeness. They'd as soon kill you in shopping market as to look at you.
Still get a chuckle about the Asian culture where women hide their mouth when they smile. Of course some of those ladies teeth probably would scare the crap out of others.
Anyway, aside from the chuckle reading the article, it definitely was inspiring.
*
Beauty is in the Eyes of the Beholder
Warts on a frog are an attractive picture to the other mate
Peacocks strut with bright colored feathers
Dogs sniff each others butts
But
for all the crazy mechanisms in the natural world
women crave for Dorito chips to be polite
devouring one after the other knowing all the while
they don't
crunch.
(meanwhile the guy standing next to them is busy with his hand down his pants, scratching his nuts in public)
Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Moderator: Editors
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
News is just so damn inspiring, AND entertaining.
Today I read about the new rocket shot up into space carrying an electric car with a dummy sitting behind the wheel. It was successful and you just know there is a story about one.
But the following headline: ‘An army of clones’: This invasive crayfish can self-clone for almost unlimited copies now this one was my favorite of the day. A crawdad that don't be needing no sex to reproduce. Just a sets there n creates copies of itself. I think the democrats should find out how to do that to increase there voter base seeing how the illegal immigrant stream is a drying up...
"Hey Robin, your ass should be shot up into space. Good riddance if you ask me."
Nobody asked you parasite. Besides, space is over rated. It's what takes up space in space that is fun...
***
Replication
Setting around with nuthin ta do
Could be i sit and howls at da moon
Could be i take a stroll ta see if'n the catfish are bitin
Could be there be something ta watch on the television
Could be a lots ta do.
Gots ta thinkin bout it though
Thought maybes if'n i think really hard, i could makes more of myself
A reading bout some crawdad filling up an aquarium
Said something in the article that is what them bored crawdads do.
N just thinks, a whole lot more of me's
Illiterate
Stupid
A bumbly fool,
all's just sittin aroung with nuthin ta do.
Today I read about the new rocket shot up into space carrying an electric car with a dummy sitting behind the wheel. It was successful and you just know there is a story about one.
But the following headline: ‘An army of clones’: This invasive crayfish can self-clone for almost unlimited copies now this one was my favorite of the day. A crawdad that don't be needing no sex to reproduce. Just a sets there n creates copies of itself. I think the democrats should find out how to do that to increase there voter base seeing how the illegal immigrant stream is a drying up...
"Hey Robin, your ass should be shot up into space. Good riddance if you ask me."
Nobody asked you parasite. Besides, space is over rated. It's what takes up space in space that is fun...
***
Replication
Setting around with nuthin ta do
Could be i sit and howls at da moon
Could be i take a stroll ta see if'n the catfish are bitin
Could be there be something ta watch on the television
Could be a lots ta do.
Gots ta thinkin bout it though
Thought maybes if'n i think really hard, i could makes more of myself
A reading bout some crawdad filling up an aquarium
Said something in the article that is what them bored crawdads do.
N just thinks, a whole lot more of me's
Illiterate
Stupid
A bumbly fool,
all's just sittin aroung with nuthin ta do.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Nice day. Almost 60 degree's. Bugs flying all over the place. T-shirt working weather indeed.
Watched the twin lambs jumping around like idiots. Spontaneous laughter for their spontaneous antics. Another set of lamb twins were born this morning but one died from suffocation due to a birthing sack over it's head. The one that survived is a black colored lamb and I watched it fumble about today. Fun and inspiring.
Yesterday Joe had to shoot one of the calves because it's head swelled and it acted more and more erratic. Said it started to just arch its neck and look at the sky. He said this years calving season is going much better than last Winter. Mainly because last winter was indeed, Winter. Now though, it's Spring.
Hopefully the fruit tree's don't bloom yet as there still are some wintery moments coming.
*
Stink Bug
Ponderous yet meticulous in movement
Perched atop the edge
Looking down and watching
Up the ladder with wood in hand
Seeing I was not alone
Looking up and watching
We looked at each other for a time
or two
or three
Looking at each other, watching
Finally with ponderous yet meticulous movement
the bug walked down and climbed atop my finger
and I lifted up my hand
We both looked at each other, watching
he, so meticulous
me, random in actions
Much was learned and the moment over
leaving the little fella to fly away in the sunny weather
and I climbed the rest of the way up the ladder
wood in hand.
Watched the twin lambs jumping around like idiots. Spontaneous laughter for their spontaneous antics. Another set of lamb twins were born this morning but one died from suffocation due to a birthing sack over it's head. The one that survived is a black colored lamb and I watched it fumble about today. Fun and inspiring.
Yesterday Joe had to shoot one of the calves because it's head swelled and it acted more and more erratic. Said it started to just arch its neck and look at the sky. He said this years calving season is going much better than last Winter. Mainly because last winter was indeed, Winter. Now though, it's Spring.
Hopefully the fruit tree's don't bloom yet as there still are some wintery moments coming.
*
Stink Bug
Ponderous yet meticulous in movement
Perched atop the edge
Looking down and watching
Up the ladder with wood in hand
Seeing I was not alone
Looking up and watching
We looked at each other for a time
or two
or three
Looking at each other, watching
Finally with ponderous yet meticulous movement
the bug walked down and climbed atop my finger
and I lifted up my hand
We both looked at each other, watching
he, so meticulous
me, random in actions
Much was learned and the moment over
leaving the little fella to fly away in the sunny weather
and I climbed the rest of the way up the ladder
wood in hand.
-
Lester Curtis
- Long Fiction Editor
- Posts: 2736
- Joined: January 11, 2010, 12:03:56 AM
- Location: by the time you read this, I'll be somewhere else
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Awfully brave of you, willfully getting face-to-face with a stink bug. They show up in my house now and then and my cat is good at alerting me to them. I wrap them up all cozy in a few layers of paper towel and send them on an amusement park ride to the septic tank. Compare this to the fact that I seldom kill spiders I find in the house (the exception being when one gets ballsy enough to lower itself on a thread right in front of my face).
Being outdoors, though, it's easier to let the thing go on its way.
This reminds me of when I was living in an apartment; I came home after dark once, and coming around the path to my door found a skunk right there on the sidewalk. I just stopped and said, "Oh! Hello, skunk," and it sauntered off like it owned the whole place; no hurry, not concerned about me. I can understand how they'd get that attitude, though.
"Damn, usually when one of them sees me it screams and runs away."
Being outdoors, though, it's easier to let the thing go on its way.
This reminds me of when I was living in an apartment; I came home after dark once, and coming around the path to my door found a skunk right there on the sidewalk. I just stopped and said, "Oh! Hello, skunk," and it sauntered off like it owned the whole place; no hurry, not concerned about me. I can understand how they'd get that attitude, though.
"Damn, usually when one of them sees me it screams and runs away."
I was raised by humans. What's your excuse?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
testing, testing...
one, two, three...
testing. tried posting and nothing happens. i'm so scared of the dark!
one, two, three...
testing. tried posting and nothing happens. i'm so scared of the dark!
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"what a pussy Robin. See? It all works. What you're trying to post is not acceptable because you're a dunce."
But. But. But. All I wanted to post was a recipe for chocolate chip cookies?
"No you didn't. We both know don't we..."
Yeah. Busted. But, it is fun though and ... what the fuck? I'm actually having a conversation with the parasite and enjoying it? Yikes!.
*
Thanks for checking in Lester. I wonder how many other things have been flushed down the sewers. Once talked with a man who worked for the sewage plant in Homer Alaska and he told me they find rings, money, toys, a whole lot of stuff. I asked what they did with the cash and he said they wash it and hang it out to dry...
Money is indeed something dirty.
*
Money
Songs written about, money, money, money, it's a rich mans world...
Coin of the realm
Gold for the King
Silver for the people
Copper for the bread of those barely able to afford to eat.
Strippers stuff it down the string
Pastors plead for heavenly things
People crave the perceived happiness, money brings.
Money, the currency oil of making a society exist
slides all backwards and forwards in the tides of greed.
But. But. But. All I wanted to post was a recipe for chocolate chip cookies?
"No you didn't. We both know don't we..."
Yeah. Busted. But, it is fun though and ... what the fuck? I'm actually having a conversation with the parasite and enjoying it? Yikes!.
*
Thanks for checking in Lester. I wonder how many other things have been flushed down the sewers. Once talked with a man who worked for the sewage plant in Homer Alaska and he told me they find rings, money, toys, a whole lot of stuff. I asked what they did with the cash and he said they wash it and hang it out to dry...
Money is indeed something dirty.
*
Money
Songs written about, money, money, money, it's a rich mans world...
Coin of the realm
Gold for the King
Silver for the people
Copper for the bread of those barely able to afford to eat.
Strippers stuff it down the string
Pastors plead for heavenly things
People crave the perceived happiness, money brings.
Money, the currency oil of making a society exist
slides all backwards and forwards in the tides of greed.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Watched a tree burn today as the flames roared up the bole. Hot. Intense. A contrast to the cold air and wet environment. It was... beautiful.
*'
Fire
Enveloped with a cloak of liquid heat
flowing to defy the cry, the laughter
of gravity
Bark a shield though weak with pitch pockets where gathered the flames
to feast
Around the bottom, so secure with ground, the needles fed a fire
higher
higher
and higher
To the top and beyond, carried by smoke and dream
far off to other worlds
power of the flames
Curious onlookers gathered, all feeling a bit
scared
fear
unknown
this, the gift of fire
To cleanse and clear
or
destroy even hope
this, the power of fire
And then, the torrent slowed to flickers and then sparks and then smoke
All clear beneath the clear sky
leaving people to wonder and remember other things
wandering off to live a life in their world secure
forgetting the lesson just learned
Now the tree is free to grow, knowing it is now forever more'
free...
branded with the power of fire.
*'
Fire
Enveloped with a cloak of liquid heat
flowing to defy the cry, the laughter
of gravity
Bark a shield though weak with pitch pockets where gathered the flames
to feast
Around the bottom, so secure with ground, the needles fed a fire
higher
higher
and higher
To the top and beyond, carried by smoke and dream
far off to other worlds
power of the flames
Curious onlookers gathered, all feeling a bit
scared
fear
unknown
this, the gift of fire
To cleanse and clear
or
destroy even hope
this, the power of fire
And then, the torrent slowed to flickers and then sparks and then smoke
All clear beneath the clear sky
leaving people to wonder and remember other things
wandering off to live a life in their world secure
forgetting the lesson just learned
Now the tree is free to grow, knowing it is now forever more'
free...
branded with the power of fire.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Chicken and Lamb
He is a black colored lamb numbering less days than a week old in life.
Feisty little fella with his black fleece sucking up the sunlight like a dry sponge soaking up spilled wine. Bouncing around getting his feet under some semblance of control, though not 100% successful. But, wobble or not, his enthusiasm along with the warmth of the blue sky shedding some light on the scene, he was having fun.
Enter now, the hens. Chickens of colors with a dusty red being the prevalent one. Rhode Island reds. A breed well known for laying the familiar brown eggs many favor on a breakfast plate. They strutted through the sheep pen as if they were the queens of the yard. Scratching and looking for food among the spilled hay and straw.
When the lamb spied these hens working their way through the layers of old manure, dirt, straw, hay... he was up to a challenge. Head down, he lunged on forward on four black colored legs about as solid as rope with more wiggles than wobbles, at the nearest hen.
Within a few inches of the hen; head down... he looked up to spy that the hen could absolutely care less. She gave up no ground. Undeterred, the lamb backed up a bit farther than his first lunge and repeated the same comedy. The results were identical to the first attack.
It could be said the other animals laughed at the antics except the only animals capable of laughter were two men working on a building nearby. To them, the scene was hilarious.
With his challenge met and his failure complete, the lamb did what most young lambs do with wobbly legs... He bounded away and jumped a few times up into the air and then lay down to soak up more sun, leaving the hens to continue their search and the men to return to the job at hand.
Another good day at the ranch.
He is a black colored lamb numbering less days than a week old in life.
Feisty little fella with his black fleece sucking up the sunlight like a dry sponge soaking up spilled wine. Bouncing around getting his feet under some semblance of control, though not 100% successful. But, wobble or not, his enthusiasm along with the warmth of the blue sky shedding some light on the scene, he was having fun.
Enter now, the hens. Chickens of colors with a dusty red being the prevalent one. Rhode Island reds. A breed well known for laying the familiar brown eggs many favor on a breakfast plate. They strutted through the sheep pen as if they were the queens of the yard. Scratching and looking for food among the spilled hay and straw.
When the lamb spied these hens working their way through the layers of old manure, dirt, straw, hay... he was up to a challenge. Head down, he lunged on forward on four black colored legs about as solid as rope with more wiggles than wobbles, at the nearest hen.
Within a few inches of the hen; head down... he looked up to spy that the hen could absolutely care less. She gave up no ground. Undeterred, the lamb backed up a bit farther than his first lunge and repeated the same comedy. The results were identical to the first attack.
It could be said the other animals laughed at the antics except the only animals capable of laughter were two men working on a building nearby. To them, the scene was hilarious.
With his challenge met and his failure complete, the lamb did what most young lambs do with wobbly legs... He bounded away and jumped a few times up into the air and then lay down to soak up more sun, leaving the hens to continue their search and the men to return to the job at hand.
Another good day at the ranch.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Sometimes being inside the box, words are also trapped and bounce around like caged animals looking for a way to get out. Sitting in the center of the box, it can be horrific to watch the results or bring a writer a smile. Thus, the inspiration fitting for Valentines day
*
Center of the Storm
Tranquil this orb below, a world where oceans wave back and the lands ponder in sleep
Below the surface the molten heart beats
Alive so to stir with tremors
Men and Women meet to seat and stand as moonlight sweeps the monthly ways
So much with so many
emotions
A child trembles as the wars tear apart what can only be considered security
Death it too waves a banner
laughing with tormented screams
Mothers and Father cry with salted tears, alike in ocean and stars
falling
falling
falling
lost sons and daughters
Bombs of accusations, exploding munitions of primer raw emotions
Real
Always
Bleeding...
Tranquil below this orb, this round ball of clouds, water, and land
Seeing both sides of each and every equation
adding the sums
subtracting the losses
dividing what is driven...
How can it be God loves such a planet?
How can it be?
...
(silence for at least 1000 years until the simple eruption of a yellow flower in a splintered, fractured, predictable, hostile, world... shows the simple answer)
Peace
Life
Love is always the containment of any storm, the fertilization of flowers, the growth of joy and happiness...
Leaving hate to float alone in a bottle which so many have been given the chance to open and read as they float too, on the waters
or
with will and choice made freely,
cast far, far, far,
away, into the desert of this orb below, this our planet.
*
Center of the Storm
Tranquil this orb below, a world where oceans wave back and the lands ponder in sleep
Below the surface the molten heart beats
Alive so to stir with tremors
Men and Women meet to seat and stand as moonlight sweeps the monthly ways
So much with so many
emotions
A child trembles as the wars tear apart what can only be considered security
Death it too waves a banner
laughing with tormented screams
Mothers and Father cry with salted tears, alike in ocean and stars
falling
falling
falling
lost sons and daughters
Bombs of accusations, exploding munitions of primer raw emotions
Real
Always
Bleeding...
Tranquil below this orb, this round ball of clouds, water, and land
Seeing both sides of each and every equation
adding the sums
subtracting the losses
dividing what is driven...
How can it be God loves such a planet?
How can it be?
...
(silence for at least 1000 years until the simple eruption of a yellow flower in a splintered, fractured, predictable, hostile, world... shows the simple answer)
Peace
Life
Love is always the containment of any storm, the fertilization of flowers, the growth of joy and happiness...
Leaving hate to float alone in a bottle which so many have been given the chance to open and read as they float too, on the waters
or
with will and choice made freely,
cast far, far, far,
away, into the desert of this orb below, this our planet.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Fortune Teller
By: A spiders leg
Fog passed through the center of the web, a normal everyday spiders web spun... Spun centuries ago. Spun so long ago the creatures known as humans did not even exist to tear such a web asunder. It was a normal every spiders web spun...
Inside the village shack located not far in distance from the Tree of Life where hung the web, a shrouded form with a voice sounding neither male or female asked a woman who entered the door, "What is it you seek?"
"I have heard you know of the future. I would like to know what is in store for me."
The figure could have been looking at this young woman or maybe the figure was smelling the air or tasting the soul of the woman. "To know your future you must know your past. Do you know your past woman?"
This question caused pause but the woman said, "Yes. I know my past. It has been a past filled with much pain and hard work."
"What is it you desire at this exact moment?" The figure asked.
There were a few moments of silence in the room, a room now filled with the silken threads of a spiders web floating in the air.
"I would like to know my future. Can you see it?"
"Yes, but that is not the desire you need at this exact moment."
"Why? I thought you could see my future." There was anger in the woman's voice now and she felt the feeling of uncomfortable.
"Oh yes. I see many of your futures. Many choices and paths for you to pick from. If you had answered my question with any other answer other than to know your future, your desire would have been fulfilled. Now however, to answer what your future is... It is to be my dinner."
There were some screams as the web encircled and bound the woman, a woman who's only interest was in the future. Not her painful past, nor her moment of now. If she had told the figure she wanted happiness now, it would have been so. If she had told the figure she wanted health now, she would have gained it. But by including the figure she included the figures hunger, and for the present, the figure was hungry.
By: A spiders leg
Fog passed through the center of the web, a normal everyday spiders web spun... Spun centuries ago. Spun so long ago the creatures known as humans did not even exist to tear such a web asunder. It was a normal every spiders web spun...
Inside the village shack located not far in distance from the Tree of Life where hung the web, a shrouded form with a voice sounding neither male or female asked a woman who entered the door, "What is it you seek?"
"I have heard you know of the future. I would like to know what is in store for me."
The figure could have been looking at this young woman or maybe the figure was smelling the air or tasting the soul of the woman. "To know your future you must know your past. Do you know your past woman?"
This question caused pause but the woman said, "Yes. I know my past. It has been a past filled with much pain and hard work."
"What is it you desire at this exact moment?" The figure asked.
There were a few moments of silence in the room, a room now filled with the silken threads of a spiders web floating in the air.
"I would like to know my future. Can you see it?"
"Yes, but that is not the desire you need at this exact moment."
"Why? I thought you could see my future." There was anger in the woman's voice now and she felt the feeling of uncomfortable.
"Oh yes. I see many of your futures. Many choices and paths for you to pick from. If you had answered my question with any other answer other than to know your future, your desire would have been fulfilled. Now however, to answer what your future is... It is to be my dinner."
There were some screams as the web encircled and bound the woman, a woman who's only interest was in the future. Not her painful past, nor her moment of now. If she had told the figure she wanted happiness now, it would have been so. If she had told the figure she wanted health now, she would have gained it. But by including the figure she included the figures hunger, and for the present, the figure was hungry.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
The Ice Mountain
It stood there as a testament to the might of tectonics, spire reaching higher than the cloud.
It was a mountain at home with both the sky and earth
Standing eternal, caring nothing for man or beast, cloud or sun, moon or stars.
Caressed by winds the mountain gave strength and inspiration to those and that living in verdant valleys filled with life and warmth.
Below, the birds soared, the fish splashed, the children laughed, the people worked.
He too, mountain of a man.
Born in iron and cloth, hands of grit, proud in stature, quiet, commanding presence...
yes, he too, a mountain.
Like attracts like
Water to water
Sand to sand
Air to air
Man to mountain.
He climbed the mountain, he climbed until he was nearing the top
Both mountain and man were joined in the silence, both now as one...
So close to the top, to conquer the mountain, the mountain man started to run
He ran now, at first slowly, his lungs sucking in mountains of air
Faster and faster he ran up, even raising his hands to keep in dance with his feet
A blur now as the man ran so fast, his legs pumping harder; hands reaching forward...
Up
Up
Up...
and then,
he stopped running, his lungs no longer pumping the thin air, his legs no longer running, his arms motionless.
All mountains fall and fail, a testament to the power of wind and rain
Gravity and time to take the toll of pride and might
The mountain man learned he too, was not immune to falling
His pride and might now rested with the mountain for eternity as his run was up
It was up-side-down as his tired grip failed on the thin ice covering stone being torn apart slowing by the freezing ice.
Below, in the sun filled valleys, the people admired the mountain standing there in the distance, a mountain that gave them
hope
pride
joy...
and they too, ran their race with life.
It stood there as a testament to the might of tectonics, spire reaching higher than the cloud.
It was a mountain at home with both the sky and earth
Standing eternal, caring nothing for man or beast, cloud or sun, moon or stars.
Caressed by winds the mountain gave strength and inspiration to those and that living in verdant valleys filled with life and warmth.
Below, the birds soared, the fish splashed, the children laughed, the people worked.
He too, mountain of a man.
Born in iron and cloth, hands of grit, proud in stature, quiet, commanding presence...
yes, he too, a mountain.
Like attracts like
Water to water
Sand to sand
Air to air
Man to mountain.
He climbed the mountain, he climbed until he was nearing the top
Both mountain and man were joined in the silence, both now as one...
So close to the top, to conquer the mountain, the mountain man started to run
He ran now, at first slowly, his lungs sucking in mountains of air
Faster and faster he ran up, even raising his hands to keep in dance with his feet
A blur now as the man ran so fast, his legs pumping harder; hands reaching forward...
Up
Up
Up...
and then,
he stopped running, his lungs no longer pumping the thin air, his legs no longer running, his arms motionless.
All mountains fall and fail, a testament to the power of wind and rain
Gravity and time to take the toll of pride and might
The mountain man learned he too, was not immune to falling
His pride and might now rested with the mountain for eternity as his run was up
It was up-side-down as his tired grip failed on the thin ice covering stone being torn apart slowing by the freezing ice.
Below, in the sun filled valleys, the people admired the mountain standing there in the distance, a mountain that gave them
hope
pride
joy...
and they too, ran their race with life.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Fun writing challenge this month. If you haven't entered give it a try. Clones are much better than clowns. Clowns are scary.
*
Gun Violence
Bang bang, you're dead...
Blame the bullet
Blame the politics
Blame the killers
Blame the kids...
Kids are not the innocents
Have you seen their mentors, the video games?
How to kill without feeling by pushing buttons and listening to the sound effects in their tiny little heads.
So many quick to lay blame when in the mirror stares a killer even if he/she does not use a gun
they use
words
actions
feelings
...
instead.
Show me one, just one human who has never experienced the strong feelings of unbridled anger
the potential for danger
...
I thought so, there are none exempt...
the only really safe human are those that are
dead.
*
(this is written as inspired by children killing children, mainly with the aid of a weapon such as a rifle or pistol. instant blame is put upon the weapon used and it's accessibility. interesting though, little mention made of lack of parenting, access to social conditioning via the world wide web, violent video game 'training'. so many reasons when really the main, simple reason is that the human species is a violent, cruel and to some, unpredictable. to me though, humans are veeeeery predictable and savage BUT filled with great potential. one day there will come the moment where killing and savagery is just a footnote in the species as it attains/regains the status of a peaceful species.)
*
Gun Violence
Bang bang, you're dead...
Blame the bullet
Blame the politics
Blame the killers
Blame the kids...
Kids are not the innocents
Have you seen their mentors, the video games?
How to kill without feeling by pushing buttons and listening to the sound effects in their tiny little heads.
So many quick to lay blame when in the mirror stares a killer even if he/she does not use a gun
they use
words
actions
feelings
...
instead.
Show me one, just one human who has never experienced the strong feelings of unbridled anger
the potential for danger
...
I thought so, there are none exempt...
the only really safe human are those that are
dead.
*
(this is written as inspired by children killing children, mainly with the aid of a weapon such as a rifle or pistol. instant blame is put upon the weapon used and it's accessibility. interesting though, little mention made of lack of parenting, access to social conditioning via the world wide web, violent video game 'training'. so many reasons when really the main, simple reason is that the human species is a violent, cruel and to some, unpredictable. to me though, humans are veeeeery predictable and savage BUT filled with great potential. one day there will come the moment where killing and savagery is just a footnote in the species as it attains/regains the status of a peaceful species.)
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Back in the day, people read books, told stories around a campfire, worked hard, lived, and died. News spread slowly sometimes taking months for an event occurring half-way around the world to reach people on the other side. Today, everything is almost 'instant'.
Back in the day, people read 'make believe' stories, embellished true stories told around a campfire, worked hard, lived, and died. Today... the same, only today, it is faster... the same process just more choice and access.
Sadly though, in the past, stories were an escape, a fantasy, a way to lighten the burdens of trying to survive (literally) Today though, the same for some and for others, a means of making something 'not real', real.
Fake news is a new term. News told in story fashion to get an idea or agenda across. Make believe made to be believable, and thus the inspiration.
*
Breaking News
Today, President Obama and President Trump were seen playing cards in the White House. It was reported that Obama entered the White House after playing a round of golf with some friends. It was during the golf game that it was overheard that the loser would have to go play cards with Trump.
It cannot be confirmed but the attached photograph dated today shows Obama entering and playing cards. (error in transmission...Russia is to blame)
There is speculation as to what the two were playing but some reports are coming in that the two were starting to shed clothing. Trump was seen taking off his tie while Obama was soon down to his boxer shorts. There is a strong indickcation that the two were playing strip poker.
Shortly before this story was released it was further reported that the curtains had been drawn and that Mrs. Trump and Mrs. Obama were last seen walking down the hall towards the oval office with baseball bats.
*
"Robin, that was my type of news. Maybe there is hope for ya afterall!"
Nope. I wrote this in the same vein as to what I actually read on the news. It's getting so bad I actually think Pravda or the
Chinese American News network actually give better and more accurate news accounting's than Fox, NBC, ABC, CBS, CNN and all the rest of America's storytellers.
"Well, I like yours, plus, it's true because now it's on the internet."
Whatever parasite, whatever.
Back in the day, people read 'make believe' stories, embellished true stories told around a campfire, worked hard, lived, and died. Today... the same, only today, it is faster... the same process just more choice and access.
Sadly though, in the past, stories were an escape, a fantasy, a way to lighten the burdens of trying to survive (literally) Today though, the same for some and for others, a means of making something 'not real', real.
Fake news is a new term. News told in story fashion to get an idea or agenda across. Make believe made to be believable, and thus the inspiration.
*
Breaking News
Today, President Obama and President Trump were seen playing cards in the White House. It was reported that Obama entered the White House after playing a round of golf with some friends. It was during the golf game that it was overheard that the loser would have to go play cards with Trump.
It cannot be confirmed but the attached photograph dated today shows Obama entering and playing cards. (error in transmission...Russia is to blame)
There is speculation as to what the two were playing but some reports are coming in that the two were starting to shed clothing. Trump was seen taking off his tie while Obama was soon down to his boxer shorts. There is a strong indickcation that the two were playing strip poker.
Shortly before this story was released it was further reported that the curtains had been drawn and that Mrs. Trump and Mrs. Obama were last seen walking down the hall towards the oval office with baseball bats.
*
"Robin, that was my type of news. Maybe there is hope for ya afterall!"
Nope. I wrote this in the same vein as to what I actually read on the news. It's getting so bad I actually think Pravda or the
Chinese American News network actually give better and more accurate news accounting's than Fox, NBC, ABC, CBS, CNN and all the rest of America's storytellers.
"Well, I like yours, plus, it's true because now it's on the internet."
Whatever parasite, whatever.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Olympics ongoing are fun to watch. Even the curling. Ha. Curling is probably one of the few 'sports' where age/weight/gender is not an issue. Kinda humorous watching the people sweeping the ice in front of the rock.
The Canadians coming in second against the Americans in the women's hockey was entertaining. All those ladies played excellent.
I suppose the Olympics bring countries together but it is not all peaches and cream. Watched a North Korean speed skater try twice to 'take out' his opponents. Nothing was done to him as the officials probably feared the madman to the North would nuke them all. But, after the Olympics are over North Korea will probably start glowing in the dark once the bombs start falling. Then, on the Korean peninsula, the 'good' memories of the Olympics will quickly be forgotten as everything gets blown up.
Will there be war? Most definitely. When will it occur? Soon. Why? Because humans LOVE hate... In the meantime, go curlers!
*
I Could
I could try peace, but only if you believe like me
I could try your ways, but I don't think it will work
I could kill you in your sleep, but I will wait until you're awake.
I can't live by my own laws even, so why should I live by yours?
I can't be what you want me to be, so why can't you be like me?
I can't tolerate any other thoughts besides mine, can't you see?
Yes, I speak of love and joy but god help you if you disagree
Yes, I believe in being right and never wrong
Yes, I know I can't be wrong, or a killer, or even mean.
But, just don't make me angry
But, just don't make any decisions that go against me
But, just agree
I could do so much but mainly
All I think about...
is
me, me, me, me, me...
The Canadians coming in second against the Americans in the women's hockey was entertaining. All those ladies played excellent.
I suppose the Olympics bring countries together but it is not all peaches and cream. Watched a North Korean speed skater try twice to 'take out' his opponents. Nothing was done to him as the officials probably feared the madman to the North would nuke them all. But, after the Olympics are over North Korea will probably start glowing in the dark once the bombs start falling. Then, on the Korean peninsula, the 'good' memories of the Olympics will quickly be forgotten as everything gets blown up.
Will there be war? Most definitely. When will it occur? Soon. Why? Because humans LOVE hate... In the meantime, go curlers!
*
I Could
I could try peace, but only if you believe like me
I could try your ways, but I don't think it will work
I could kill you in your sleep, but I will wait until you're awake.
I can't live by my own laws even, so why should I live by yours?
I can't be what you want me to be, so why can't you be like me?
I can't tolerate any other thoughts besides mine, can't you see?
Yes, I speak of love and joy but god help you if you disagree
Yes, I believe in being right and never wrong
Yes, I know I can't be wrong, or a killer, or even mean.
But, just don't make me angry
But, just don't make any decisions that go against me
But, just agree
I could do so much but mainly
All I think about...
is
me, me, me, me, me...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Listening to Trump speak, listening to the crowds cheer. Tooting the horn, so to speak, as all politicians love to toot the horn. Really though, the whole spectacle is nothing more than a living game.
*
War Talons
Disemboweled there laying as the blood corrupts the once shiny armor
soiled lands
Pendants of privilege tattered and torn showing rank royalty
Armies discarded as rain to drain/
/
\
/
\
Time passes with each new heart born and borne with ideal'ic gain...
/
\
/
\
Such the bird of war soaring high, swooping low, wreaking the havoc of chaos and loss
Mothers left without a bag to hold the sorrow
as warriors flesh is stripped by actions once held grand
/
\
/
\
/
will the children ever learn? will they dry the tears of others as they try to soothe the pain/
\
/
\
/
circle this world with soft down in preparation for the talons reach
bring on the horrors, the savagery, the absolution of darkness; deathly reign
bring on the cry from forked beak and tongue this black hawk so aptly named
and know there is no place, no land, no bands of brothers and sisters
the bird of death, the falcon of war, is and will continue
to shadow the times.
*
War Talons
Disemboweled there laying as the blood corrupts the once shiny armor
soiled lands
Pendants of privilege tattered and torn showing rank royalty
Armies discarded as rain to drain/
/
\
/
\
Time passes with each new heart born and borne with ideal'ic gain...
/
\
/
\
Such the bird of war soaring high, swooping low, wreaking the havoc of chaos and loss
Mothers left without a bag to hold the sorrow
as warriors flesh is stripped by actions once held grand
/
\
/
\
/
will the children ever learn? will they dry the tears of others as they try to soothe the pain/
\
/
\
/
circle this world with soft down in preparation for the talons reach
bring on the horrors, the savagery, the absolution of darkness; deathly reign
bring on the cry from forked beak and tongue this black hawk so aptly named
and know there is no place, no land, no bands of brothers and sisters
the bird of death, the falcon of war, is and will continue
to shadow the times.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
There is not much information regarding the inner workings of rocks. Some people have tried. Some of those who have tried have succeeded. Most...have failed.
1. Fiction
2. Non-fiction
3. Real
4. Fantasy
"Umm, what the fuck are you trying to say weirdo man?"
"Who are you talking to parasite, robin is not here tonight."
"Oh... it's you. A rock. All you rocks look alike, and..."
"Quiet parasite. Sit. Learn."
"Learn? Learn what? How to skip you across the surface of a pond? How to throw you at police in a race war? How to break walnuts with you? How to cast the first stone?"
"I'm here because Tao asked to sit awhile and relax. It is... good. No permission is needed though, only the will to choose."
"Whatever rock, you bore me. Besides, I've now got a hankering for Twizzlers. I forget though, it that candy and the game where you put your hands on dots? But, look at me. Talking to a stupid rock... later rock. Don't let moss gather on ya as you fall off a cliff."
*
(for rocks time has no meaning. heat. cold. rain. snow. wind. rocks have seen it all, felt it all, and been a part of it all. with one exception. emotions come hard for granite. basalt knows nothing of tears. obsidian has a sharp hardness. but, some rocks... are a bit... different. however, they all are aloof, alone, and if you listen very carefully, they sing so loud the moon smiles causing the rocks to dance...
***
"This is for you Tao, bird of flame spiraled with rebirth and tested with choice of Four." (the following time lines are marked now with much song. in just the time you've all read this, another Universe just joined with another Lost)
Love, it seeps as if sap from the exposed wound of a tree cast by erosion from its roots off a sheer cliff wall. It seems dangerous, painful. It appears as a Loss, a soured sight of destruction... yet the sap fragrance steals the air, the birds feast upon the boring bugs taking reign, the seeds break free to spread across the valley from the Fall, and it is real.
Hate, such a beautiful site where in location, it is the center of the Circle. Black bands flitter with winded words resulting in such actions it seems unstoppable... only through closed eyes, closed mouth, open ears does the beauty turn to sour dust and ugly moments.
Tired, a small bird sits upon a perch where after surviving the hawk, the winds, the night vapors, it still has the strong will to announce to all in the morning, a song so strong the rocks will spend thousands of years after being scattered... to return
Life... Pick up the stone singing nearby, you'll know the one. Roll the stone in your hand and listen... do you hear? A song so old, it comes oldr than dragon song or elven tear. Can you feel the vibrations as the stone dances so fast a spider cannot even stand? Life is the answer for those questions never asked. It is so important that even rocks know and bow with respect , the Hand lifted.
1. Fiction
2. Non-fiction
3. Real
4. Fantasy
"Umm, what the fuck are you trying to say weirdo man?"
"Who are you talking to parasite, robin is not here tonight."
"Oh... it's you. A rock. All you rocks look alike, and..."
"Quiet parasite. Sit. Learn."
"Learn? Learn what? How to skip you across the surface of a pond? How to throw you at police in a race war? How to break walnuts with you? How to cast the first stone?"
"I'm here because Tao asked to sit awhile and relax. It is... good. No permission is needed though, only the will to choose."
"Whatever rock, you bore me. Besides, I've now got a hankering for Twizzlers. I forget though, it that candy and the game where you put your hands on dots? But, look at me. Talking to a stupid rock... later rock. Don't let moss gather on ya as you fall off a cliff."
*
(for rocks time has no meaning. heat. cold. rain. snow. wind. rocks have seen it all, felt it all, and been a part of it all. with one exception. emotions come hard for granite. basalt knows nothing of tears. obsidian has a sharp hardness. but, some rocks... are a bit... different. however, they all are aloof, alone, and if you listen very carefully, they sing so loud the moon smiles causing the rocks to dance...
***
"This is for you Tao, bird of flame spiraled with rebirth and tested with choice of Four." (the following time lines are marked now with much song. in just the time you've all read this, another Universe just joined with another Lost)
Love, it seeps as if sap from the exposed wound of a tree cast by erosion from its roots off a sheer cliff wall. It seems dangerous, painful. It appears as a Loss, a soured sight of destruction... yet the sap fragrance steals the air, the birds feast upon the boring bugs taking reign, the seeds break free to spread across the valley from the Fall, and it is real.
Hate, such a beautiful site where in location, it is the center of the Circle. Black bands flitter with winded words resulting in such actions it seems unstoppable... only through closed eyes, closed mouth, open ears does the beauty turn to sour dust and ugly moments.
Tired, a small bird sits upon a perch where after surviving the hawk, the winds, the night vapors, it still has the strong will to announce to all in the morning, a song so strong the rocks will spend thousands of years after being scattered... to return
Life... Pick up the stone singing nearby, you'll know the one. Roll the stone in your hand and listen... do you hear? A song so old, it comes oldr than dragon song or elven tear. Can you feel the vibrations as the stone dances so fast a spider cannot even stand? Life is the answer for those questions never asked. It is so important that even rocks know and bow with respect , the Hand lifted.
-
Lester Curtis
- Long Fiction Editor
- Posts: 2736
- Joined: January 11, 2010, 12:03:56 AM
- Location: by the time you read this, I'll be somewhere else
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Tao,
"Hey! Where do you think you're going looking like that?"
(Eyerolls) "Ma--!"
"I mean it! You take that pelt off right now and turn it fur-side-out like a normal human being! And where are you going?"
"Hang out with my friends ..."
"And listen to that awful excuse for music, I suppose? What else? Fermented fruit?"
"No, ma! We'll all be at Tzink's place and his parents are home."
"Hunh. Well ... you be home before dark, you hear?"
(Another eyeroll) "Yes, ma."
--------------------------------------
And then, every once in a while, we get to see the good side that was always there, hiding behind the annoying outward appearance ... like those school kids in Florida.
Make that 1920 B.C., especially in regard to teenagers. Likely closer to 19,200 B.C., but nobody was leaving records of their complaints then. Seems we've finally figured out that people who are old enough to be parents of teenagers seem to automatically develop strong aversions to everything teenagers do and the way they do them. All forgetting, of course, what they were like themselves at that age.- Short Attention Spans have been noted as a Disturbing Thing since at least 1955. (The makers of Back to the Future knew!) And weary people have been using "People These Days..." since ... 1920!
"Hey! Where do you think you're going looking like that?"
(Eyerolls) "Ma--!"
"I mean it! You take that pelt off right now and turn it fur-side-out like a normal human being! And where are you going?"
"Hang out with my friends ..."
"And listen to that awful excuse for music, I suppose? What else? Fermented fruit?"
"No, ma! We'll all be at Tzink's place and his parents are home."
"Hunh. Well ... you be home before dark, you hear?"
(Another eyeroll) "Yes, ma."
--------------------------------------
And then, every once in a while, we get to see the good side that was always there, hiding behind the annoying outward appearance ... like those school kids in Florida.
I was raised by humans. What's your excuse?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Inspirational topics due to two which equals four, unless...
earth math is as primitive as human emotions.
Short attention spans are necessary for a brain capable of sooooo much more but unable due to a major biological engineering bit of 'tinkering'.
What the body/mind is capable of and what it is allowed are so far apart... oh, look, a butterfly!
***
Tinkering
They, a word used so much they all start to sound the same
Those moments where what could be, cannot, while what cannot be, is
This is why the alteration in a human brain, designed and played like an electronic device
That means this, those who think they are are in control... are correct.
earth math is as primitive as human emotions.
Short attention spans are necessary for a brain capable of sooooo much more but unable due to a major biological engineering bit of 'tinkering'.
What the body/mind is capable of and what it is allowed are so far apart... oh, look, a butterfly!
***
Tinkering
They, a word used so much they all start to sound the same
Those moments where what could be, cannot, while what cannot be, is
This is why the alteration in a human brain, designed and played like an electronic device
That means this, those who think they are are in control... are correct.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Ever try and sleep with an owl talking non-stop all night? At least it was not a woodpecker trying to make points with the ladies by hammering the metal on the roof like a run-away-machine gun. The owl was inspirational even as it was loud.
***
Listen
During and enduring, the sounds, the vibrations
With wings tucked and clawed stance
Looking down
Searching
A call in the night where darkness is the hunters light
As rabbit scurry beneath the seeded bird feeder
Looking down
Searching
More so than dinner this chance as it was the owls moment to speak
With all listening for miles
Leaving those without hearing
Without fear from what looks down
Snoring securely in
sleep.
***
Listen
During and enduring, the sounds, the vibrations
With wings tucked and clawed stance
Looking down
Searching
A call in the night where darkness is the hunters light
As rabbit scurry beneath the seeded bird feeder
Looking down
Searching
More so than dinner this chance as it was the owls moment to speak
With all listening for miles
Leaving those without hearing
Without fear from what looks down
Snoring securely in
sleep.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Show of hands. Who else hates hanging drywall, commonly known as sheetrock?
Oh, parasite. Of course. You hate sheetrock? You don't even work. All you do is eat, sleep and frolic with dolphins...
"Oh, I don't hate sheetrock. I hate you. And I hate work. And I, oh look, a pink elephant..."
Glad to see you here parasite.
Anyway, there is something 'not right' with drywall. Amazing Americans are so in love with that horrible stuff. Probably cuz it's cheaper than wood. But really, if you factor in the labor of hanging it, taping, mudding, priming and painting. Wood is way, way, wayyyyy better.
Of course, inspirational as it is opinionated.
***
Heavy hanging heap of powdered dust bound onto paper and white
Screws biting in until wanting to continue through the surface
Panel after panel, yet it does brighten a room up.
Ceiling placed and walls
Fragile as eggshells
Ample floating particles of dust.
Score with knife, then with a flick of the wrist, break it in half
Draw the blade to separate the crumbly mess from paper
With a product now needing a rasp to make it all fit.
So many homes with so much sheet rock
In my opinion
the homes are covered in white crap.
Oh, parasite. Of course. You hate sheetrock? You don't even work. All you do is eat, sleep and frolic with dolphins...
"Oh, I don't hate sheetrock. I hate you. And I hate work. And I, oh look, a pink elephant..."
Glad to see you here parasite.
Anyway, there is something 'not right' with drywall. Amazing Americans are so in love with that horrible stuff. Probably cuz it's cheaper than wood. But really, if you factor in the labor of hanging it, taping, mudding, priming and painting. Wood is way, way, wayyyyy better.
Of course, inspirational as it is opinionated.
***
Heavy hanging heap of powdered dust bound onto paper and white
Screws biting in until wanting to continue through the surface
Panel after panel, yet it does brighten a room up.
Ceiling placed and walls
Fragile as eggshells
Ample floating particles of dust.
Score with knife, then with a flick of the wrist, break it in half
Draw the blade to separate the crumbly mess from paper
With a product now needing a rasp to make it all fit.
So many homes with so much sheet rock
In my opinion
the homes are covered in white crap.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Freedom.
Freedom is such a simple word in a world of words. So many meanings as to what freedom is. Sadly though, no one is truly free. There is no freedom from death. There is no freedom from government entanglement. There is no freedom from sickness.
The United States of America tried/tries to reach a degree of freedom. Right to bear arms. Freedom of speech. And to some degree, it succeeds until those who have the freedom to express their views do everything they can do to stifle other peoples freedom.
We see it everyday, in every way... "Listen to me as I'm right." "Our was is the correct, your way is wrong..." The news channels are filled with expressions of freedoms in so many ways. The freedom of getting an abortion. The freedom to fuck a tree. I wonder though, is there really any freedom on this planet?
My answer is, yes. For me, it is the freedom to write. If I want to say that President Obama was one of the most fucked up terms ever served by a president in history... then I will. If I want to say the President Obama was one of the most inspiring terms ever served by a president in history... then I will.
What I will NOT. NOT ever. Is be told I cannot write what I want, when I want, and how I want... Unless the venue I choose is made up of people of a mind all the same. For example: If a forum is for and composed mostly of people who despise guns I'm not going to write stuff there that makes them mad and goes against their beliefs.
This is why I like Aphelion. I've been blessed to write whatever comes out. Of course, I'd personally like to see more writing by other writers in the general submissions containing 'real' thoughts,but can fully understand why the words, 'fuck' 'shit' 'cunt' 'prick' 'bastard' and all the other great words I admire are not for undeveloped minds.
If you're a writer, take the freedom you have to write and run with it. NEVER let another stifle your creative energy. Though I would suggest not using writing as a weapon. Don't bully or attack another with the full intent of harm. And if you read an 'opinion' that goes counter to yours, so what, don't read anything from that author anymore. Or, write your 'opinion' that goes counter to theirs.
Write. Write. Write. Let the words flow, the sentences grow, the paragraphs explode, and a story be told! And NEVER let ANYONE tell you to write in a way you don't want too.
"Hey numbnuts, I actually like what you wrote tonight. Good job."
Thanks parasite. It makes me happy you like it.
Freedom is such a simple word in a world of words. So many meanings as to what freedom is. Sadly though, no one is truly free. There is no freedom from death. There is no freedom from government entanglement. There is no freedom from sickness.
The United States of America tried/tries to reach a degree of freedom. Right to bear arms. Freedom of speech. And to some degree, it succeeds until those who have the freedom to express their views do everything they can do to stifle other peoples freedom.
We see it everyday, in every way... "Listen to me as I'm right." "Our was is the correct, your way is wrong..." The news channels are filled with expressions of freedoms in so many ways. The freedom of getting an abortion. The freedom to fuck a tree. I wonder though, is there really any freedom on this planet?
My answer is, yes. For me, it is the freedom to write. If I want to say that President Obama was one of the most fucked up terms ever served by a president in history... then I will. If I want to say the President Obama was one of the most inspiring terms ever served by a president in history... then I will.
What I will NOT. NOT ever. Is be told I cannot write what I want, when I want, and how I want... Unless the venue I choose is made up of people of a mind all the same. For example: If a forum is for and composed mostly of people who despise guns I'm not going to write stuff there that makes them mad and goes against their beliefs.
This is why I like Aphelion. I've been blessed to write whatever comes out. Of course, I'd personally like to see more writing by other writers in the general submissions containing 'real' thoughts,but can fully understand why the words, 'fuck' 'shit' 'cunt' 'prick' 'bastard' and all the other great words I admire are not for undeveloped minds.
If you're a writer, take the freedom you have to write and run with it. NEVER let another stifle your creative energy. Though I would suggest not using writing as a weapon. Don't bully or attack another with the full intent of harm. And if you read an 'opinion' that goes counter to yours, so what, don't read anything from that author anymore. Or, write your 'opinion' that goes counter to theirs.
Write. Write. Write. Let the words flow, the sentences grow, the paragraphs explode, and a story be told! And NEVER let ANYONE tell you to write in a way you don't want too.
"Hey numbnuts, I actually like what you wrote tonight. Good job."
Thanks parasite. It makes me happy you like it.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Got to thinking...
"Oh shit... Robin's thinking again. (sigh) I wonder what it is about this time. Probably involves something stupid."
Not at all parasite. I only think of stupid things when you're involved.
Anyway. Got inspired by the challenge Jim provided for those who partake of Aphelion, both in writing and reading. So, here is an idea if anyone wants to express:][
This 'thread' is a [Contains Adult Language and Situations] which is just what I love. As I fuuuuuully understand, the general submissions have to be formatted for the snowflakes of society and the young minds who are great at violent video games and watching porn on their computers BUT can't handle adult stuff...
Thus, here it goes. The challenge is to write a very short story (up to a couple of hundred words) or a poem, about the sexiness of a pineapple.
Probably no one is interested in which case after a week I'll amuse myself and write one, otherwise I encourage anyone, and I mean anyone, even one of the Russian robots, to write.
The rules are simple. 1. Write it. 2. Post it on this thread 3. I'm not allowed to write one until after a week from today 4. The use of 'adult' situations is highly suggested 4. It can be horror, comedy, whatever a writer is inspired to write. 5. There is no voting as voting for a story sucks, but if you read something you like let the author know.
And that's it. Of course the general rules of Aphelion apply such as attacking other writers or just being a dick but otherwise, get your freak on.
"Can I write one too?"
No parasite. But if no one writes one then a week from now I'll let you write one and (shaking head in disgust) I'm sure it will be a bad one...
"Oh, you can bet your sweet ass on that ."
"Oh shit... Robin's thinking again. (sigh) I wonder what it is about this time. Probably involves something stupid."
Not at all parasite. I only think of stupid things when you're involved.
Anyway. Got inspired by the challenge Jim provided for those who partake of Aphelion, both in writing and reading. So, here is an idea if anyone wants to express:][
This 'thread' is a [Contains Adult Language and Situations] which is just what I love. As I fuuuuuully understand, the general submissions have to be formatted for the snowflakes of society and the young minds who are great at violent video games and watching porn on their computers BUT can't handle adult stuff...
Thus, here it goes. The challenge is to write a very short story (up to a couple of hundred words) or a poem, about the sexiness of a pineapple.
Probably no one is interested in which case after a week I'll amuse myself and write one, otherwise I encourage anyone, and I mean anyone, even one of the Russian robots, to write.
The rules are simple. 1. Write it. 2. Post it on this thread 3. I'm not allowed to write one until after a week from today 4. The use of 'adult' situations is highly suggested 4. It can be horror, comedy, whatever a writer is inspired to write. 5. There is no voting as voting for a story sucks, but if you read something you like let the author know.
And that's it. Of course the general rules of Aphelion apply such as attacking other writers or just being a dick but otherwise, get your freak on.
"Can I write one too?"
No parasite. But if no one writes one then a week from now I'll let you write one and (shaking head in disgust) I'm sure it will be a bad one...
"Oh, you can bet your sweet ass on that ."
-
Lester Curtis
- Long Fiction Editor
- Posts: 2736
- Joined: January 11, 2010, 12:03:56 AM
- Location: by the time you read this, I'll be somewhere else
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Drywall ... I suppose it's popular because it's cheap to put up. Drywall installers have special equipment that lets them just blaze through a house, so dollars-per-hour labor cost is lower than anything, including plywood, which is just as fast until you have to make the holes for electric boxes. Or cut a panel. Well--maybe it'd be a wash, since the drywallers have to come back the next day to apply the finish coat of mud. Drywall has some sound-deadening properties, too. Probably gets a thumbs-up from insurers, too, since gypsum doesn't burn too well.
I've done some; I like it about as much as you do, and I really hated ceilings. And the dust.
Makes me wonder if anyone still does plaster-on-lath. I couldn't see a point in it.
Wood? As in, boards, I'll bet. Nice, but it's a lot more work.
Fucking trees? Some trees are kinda sexy from a distance, but you get up close ...
"Think you're a tough guy, eh?"
"Damn right I am."
"Prove it. See that shag-bark hickory over there--?"
Enough of this; I'm going to lunch.
I've done some; I like it about as much as you do, and I really hated ceilings. And the dust.
Makes me wonder if anyone still does plaster-on-lath. I couldn't see a point in it.
Wood? As in, boards, I'll bet. Nice, but it's a lot more work.
Fucking trees? Some trees are kinda sexy from a distance, but you get up close ...
"Think you're a tough guy, eh?"
"Damn right I am."
"Prove it. See that shag-bark hickory over there--?"
Enough of this; I'm going to lunch.
I was raised by humans. What's your excuse?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
"A shag-bark hickory? Where! Sign me up..."
No parasite. Go play with a dolphin.
"Dolphin? Where! Sign me up..."
Sigh...
*
Good one Lester. In just few short words you painted a vivid painting via a dialogue.
The man I work with told me that drywall install is now down to a science. Said there are automatic taping machines that apply tape and mud to a seam in one pass. Said most pro's do a bid and then knock out a job so quickly they make many thousands of dollars a day.
I never like building something that I can stick my foot, fist, or appliance I'm moving through the building; through. I remember selling a house that I had put a hole through the drywall and did not fix so I left a picture hanging over it.
Wood can be more work but wood has soul, it has character, and it imparts slivers. Drywall just clogs up the lungs, dulls tools, and I would not be sad if popular building trends return back to the use of more wood. I do admit though, that a well done drywall job is nice to look at.
Thanks for the inspiration
*
Lets Do Lunch
Doing does imply much
Action/reaction
Stomp equating crunch
You push I pull
I come you go
so
how to combine without doing such?
How's the weather, asked by social dictate
standards of motions where wheel spin traction
less the reality of why
How are you doing?
/=Doing does imply much
Action\reaction
Stomp equating crunch
They pull they push
They go they come
when wanting not really
reply'
lets do lunch.
***
Had to laugh half-way through writing this as Radar, the male corgi just got a snout full of skunk spray just outside my window and the eyes are watering. I don't mind the smell but the poor bastard is not too happy at the moment.
No parasite. Go play with a dolphin.
"Dolphin? Where! Sign me up..."
Sigh...
*
Good one Lester. In just few short words you painted a vivid painting via a dialogue.
The man I work with told me that drywall install is now down to a science. Said there are automatic taping machines that apply tape and mud to a seam in one pass. Said most pro's do a bid and then knock out a job so quickly they make many thousands of dollars a day.
I never like building something that I can stick my foot, fist, or appliance I'm moving through the building; through. I remember selling a house that I had put a hole through the drywall and did not fix so I left a picture hanging over it.
Wood can be more work but wood has soul, it has character, and it imparts slivers. Drywall just clogs up the lungs, dulls tools, and I would not be sad if popular building trends return back to the use of more wood. I do admit though, that a well done drywall job is nice to look at.
Thanks for the inspiration
*
Lets Do Lunch
Doing does imply much
Action/reaction
Stomp equating crunch
You push I pull
I come you go
so
how to combine without doing such?
How's the weather, asked by social dictate
standards of motions where wheel spin traction
less the reality of why
How are you doing?
/=Doing does imply much
Action\reaction
Stomp equating crunch
They pull they push
They go they come
when wanting not really
reply'
lets do lunch.
***
Had to laugh half-way through writing this as Radar, the male corgi just got a snout full of skunk spray just outside my window and the eyes are watering. I don't mind the smell but the poor bastard is not too happy at the moment.
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
I tried to stop thinking about it
so
It took over my thoughts
so
It took over my thoughts
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Tried to stop thinking about
so
it made me think
so
it made me think
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
and then, after thinking about
it felt
strange...
it felt
strange...
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Wear House
When it reaches the ground
It reaches its final resting place
When it reaches the ground
It reaches its final resting place
-
Lester Curtis
- Long Fiction Editor
- Posts: 2736
- Joined: January 11, 2010, 12:03:56 AM
- Location: by the time you read this, I'll be somewhere else
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Hey, we left off the tree-fucking topic too soon ...
https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/c ... 95d91afc7a
Well, okay, technically it's just a *seed* and not the whole tree, but ...
https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/c ... 95d91afc7a
Well, okay, technically it's just a *seed* and not the whole tree, but ...
I was raised by humans. What's your excuse?
Re: Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]
Must say Lester, this time you did really good. "Not the whole tree, but..." Butt! Oh man, I'll never grow up and thankfully so!
Looked up the tree (of course, I mean, who would not? Anyway, copy/pasted this:
The coco de mer palm hasn’t yielded all of its secrets yet, though. Exactly how the female flowers – the largest of any palm – are pollinated remains a mystery. Blackmore suspects bees are involved, but other researchers think lizards might transfer pollen from the male trees’ 1.5-metre-long, phallic-looking catkins. Local legend, meanwhile, suggests that male trees actually tear themselves from the ground on stormy evenings and lock in a passionate carnal embrace with females. It’s the kind of story that adds to the allure of the palm.
'phallic-looking catkins and huge nuts... wow, now there is some story in all that indeed. And, I think the male trees' actually tear themselves from the ground on stormy evenings... So, be careful with plumbers crack and bending over to start a fire while camping out in the woods with a storm approaching... And a 1.5, phallic-looking catkin? Wow (again) make me feel... a bit... inadequate...
Thanks for the fun and inspiration.
*
Size Does...Matter
It matters when dealing with matter
A falling stone from space the size of a peanut or the size of a bus...
Which would make the bigger crunch?
Some women say the size of a penis, aka... prick dick cock...
does not matter as it's how it's used
that matters
when stirring the pussy pot
The size of a moan ranging from nothing to screams while what matters not
when stirring the pussy pot
is a bit disconcerting
when learning
it was not a mans appendage causing the moans...
To see a 'made in China' purple dildo
powered by the energizer bunny (triple A's for XXX pleasure)
ten inches in girth by 1.5 meters
emitting sounds while buzzing sounding like a national treasure
...
So, it's true
For a real man sporting a real deal yet falling so short...
In competition with the toys of exotic squeals and tease...
size indeed,
does not matter.
Looked up the tree (of course, I mean, who would not? Anyway, copy/pasted this:
The coco de mer palm hasn’t yielded all of its secrets yet, though. Exactly how the female flowers – the largest of any palm – are pollinated remains a mystery. Blackmore suspects bees are involved, but other researchers think lizards might transfer pollen from the male trees’ 1.5-metre-long, phallic-looking catkins. Local legend, meanwhile, suggests that male trees actually tear themselves from the ground on stormy evenings and lock in a passionate carnal embrace with females. It’s the kind of story that adds to the allure of the palm.
'phallic-looking catkins and huge nuts... wow, now there is some story in all that indeed. And, I think the male trees' actually tear themselves from the ground on stormy evenings... So, be careful with plumbers crack and bending over to start a fire while camping out in the woods with a storm approaching... And a 1.5, phallic-looking catkin? Wow (again) make me feel... a bit... inadequate...
Thanks for the fun and inspiration.
*
Size Does...Matter
It matters when dealing with matter
A falling stone from space the size of a peanut or the size of a bus...
Which would make the bigger crunch?
Some women say the size of a penis, aka... prick dick cock...
does not matter as it's how it's used
that matters
when stirring the pussy pot
The size of a moan ranging from nothing to screams while what matters not
when stirring the pussy pot
is a bit disconcerting
when learning
it was not a mans appendage causing the moans...
To see a 'made in China' purple dildo
powered by the energizer bunny (triple A's for XXX pleasure)
ten inches in girth by 1.5 meters
emitting sounds while buzzing sounding like a national treasure
...
So, it's true
For a real man sporting a real deal yet falling so short...
In competition with the toys of exotic squeals and tease...
size indeed,
does not matter.