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ExAm
November 14th, 2008, 11:27 PM
Okay, this has become something awesome enough to post in a thread.

Cuil Theory originated less than a day ago, and already has its own website (http://cuiltheory.wikidot.com/what-is-cuil-theory).

Here is a short series of examples of Cuil Theory applied to a real life situation:



Cuil Theory Began as a Joke

The idea was to lampoon the terrible search engine capabilities of the Cuil search engine, while providing a functionally stimulating idea about the interrelationship between tangential things.
The result was the following exchange:
HalCion: Reddit's thumbnails have a Cuil level of effectiveness.
RedDyeNumber4 Can we make that a unit of measurement?
One Cuil = One level of abstraction away from the reality of a situation.
Example: You ask me for a Hamburger.
1 Cuil: if you asked me for a hamburger, and I gave you a raccoon.
2 Cuils: If you asked me for a hamburger, but it turns out I don't really exist. Where I was originally standing, a picture of a hamburger rests on the ground.
3 Cuils: You awake as a hamburger. You start screaming only to have special sauce fly from your lips. The world is in sepia.
4 Cuils: Why are we speaking German? A mime cries softly as he cradles a young cow. Your grandfather stares at you as the cow falls apart into patties. You look down only to see me with pickles for eyes, I am singing the song that gives birth to the universe.
5 Cuils: You ask for a hamburger, I give you a hamburger. You raise it to your lips and take a bite. Your eye twitches involuntarily. Across the street a father of three falls down the stairs. You swallow and look down at the hamburger in your hands. I give you a hamburger. You swallow and look down at the hamburger in your hands. You cannot swallow. There are children at the top of the stairs. A pickle shifts uneasily under the bun. I give you a hamburger. You look at my face, and I am pleading with you. The children are crying now. You raise the hamburger to your lips, tears stream down your face as you take a bite. I give you a hamburger. You are on your knees. You plead with me to go across the street. I hear only children's laughter. I give you a hamburger. You are screaming as you fall down the stairs. I am your child. You cannot see anything. You take a bite of the hamburger. The concrete rushes up to meet you. You awake with a start in your own bed. Your eye twitches involuntarily. I give you a hamburger. As you kill me, I do not make a sound. I give you a hamburger.
6 Cuils: You ask me for a hamburger. My attempt to reciprocate is cut brutally short as my body experiences a sudden lack of electrons. Across a variety of hidden dimensions you are dismayed. John Lennon hands me an apple, but it slips through my fingers. I am reborn as an ocelot. You disapprove. A crack echoes through the universe in defiance of conventional physics as cosmological background noise shifts from randomness to a perfect A Flat. Children everywhere stop what they are doing and hum along in perfect pitch with the background radiation. Birds fall from the sky as the sun engulfs the earth. You hesitate momentarily before allowing yourself to assume the locus of all knowledge. Entropy crumbles as you peruse the information contained within the universe. A small library in Phoenix ceases to exist. You stumble under the weight of everythingness, Your mouth opens up to cry out, and collapses around your body before blinking you out of the spatial plane. You exist only within the fourth dimension. The fountainhead of all knowledge rolls along the ground and collides with a small dog. My head tastes sideways as spacetime is reestablished, you blink back into the corporeal world disoriented, only for me to hand you a hamburger as my body collapses under the strain of reconstitution. The universe has reasserted itself. A particular small dog is fed steak for the rest of its natural life. You die in a freak accident moments later, and you soul works at the returns desk for the Phoenix library. You disapprove. Your disapproval sends ripples through the inter-dimensional void between life and death. A small child begins to cry as he walks toward the stairway where his father stands.
--------------
Apparently, people thought this was an interesting way to consider the relationships between objects. This website is an attempt to explain exactly how Cuil Theory is intended to work, so that in the future we can rate world on a scale of strangeness and surrealism that actually fits a standard.
For all practical purposes, the Cuil is represented by an Interrobang: ‽
This is because the Interrobang is fearsome, awesome, and not in use for mathematical reasons to the best of my knowledge.
Anyone is welcome to join the site and help construct Cuil Theory, and we hope you use it while describing a drug trip in the very near future.
--------------
I propose 0 Cuil, or "absolute Cuil". 0 Cuil: I ask for a hamburger, you give me the epitome of all hamburgers, to the most subjective detail. Observers in a state of Perfect Cuil are often introduced to a phenomenon known as the Cuil Paradox, where the hamburger asked/given ratio is so near 1:1 that the observer begins to doubt the reality, suspecting that the hamburger was an artifact of their manufactured memories.
--------------
What about the idea of negative Cuil, that head toward an infinite negative Cuil or a lower bound that is absolute realism.
If I were to present you with a unified theory of everything in the universe, it would be absolute negative Cuil. Everything else is just grades of negative Cuil below 0 Cuil or normal reality. - red
cuil modelling could have far reaching ramifications for for coding theory, AI, and computer science.
applications
encryption, quantum communication and AI research as AI constructs become more complex and the large datasets they produce of diagnostic output, cuil modelling could easily map and model just the pure semantic noise seen in AI "brain waves"
Heavy stuff :v:

Jean-Luc
November 14th, 2008, 11:32 PM
*collapses* *twitch...twitch*


Badass stuff though. Too much for my feeble mind to comprehend:suicide:

Hotrod
November 15th, 2008, 12:05 AM
I tried reading it, but it turned out that I was too tired to understand. I'll read it again tomorrow.

Kornman00
November 15th, 2008, 07:37 AM
I farted and a hamburger popped out :confused:

Hotrod
November 15th, 2008, 09:12 AM
Ok, now that I've read it again, it makes a little more sense. So, if I get this straight, more Cuil = more fucked up, right?

So how many Cuils is Modacity? 20? 30?

flibitijibibo
November 15th, 2008, 11:56 AM
Hotrod: Even our Cuil count has a high Cuil count. So Modacity is approximately lamppost Cuils.

Hotrod
November 15th, 2008, 12:51 PM
But what's the lamp post's Cuil count? And what about the Cuil count of the approximation? Those are high too, no?

klange
November 15th, 2008, 01:35 PM
Screw Computer Science, I'm going to major in Cuil Theory!
Probably a lot of classes on entropy in such a study...

Phopojijo
November 15th, 2008, 01:40 PM
Screw Computer Science, I'm going to major in Cuil Theory!
Probably a lot of classes on entropy in such a study...
+nerdcred...
+nerdcred for me too for understanding it o.o

jngrow
November 15th, 2008, 03:44 PM
Who doesn't know what entropy means?

wtf 3 bars lol

Rob Oplawar
November 15th, 2008, 04:41 PM
http://www.spacebrick.net/pictures/blog_gallery/light.jpg

ExAm
November 15th, 2008, 04:47 PM
Chef Brian is a renowned eggplant in Cuil Theory.

nooBBooze
November 15th, 2008, 04:49 PM
6 Cuils: You ask me for a hamburger. My attempt to reciprocate is cut brutally short as my body experiences a sudden lack of electrons. Across a variety of hidden dimensions you are dismayed. John Lennon hands me an apple, but it slips through my fingers. I am reborn as an ocelot. You disapprove. A crack echoes through the universe in defiance of conventional physics as cosmological background noise shifts from randomness to a perfect A Flat. Children everywhere stop what they are doing and hum along in perfect pitch with the background radiation. Birds fall from the sky as the sun engulfs the earth. You hesitate momentarily before allowing yourself to assume the locus of all knowledge. Entropy crumbles as you peruse the information contained within the universe. A small library in Phoenix ceases to exist. You stumble under the weight of everythingness, Your mouth opens up to cry out, and collapses around your body before blinking you out of the spatial plane. You exist only within the fourth dimension. The fountainhead of all knowledge rolls along the ground and collides with a small dog. My head tastes sideways as spacetime is reestablished, you blink back into the corporeal world disoriented, only for me to hand you a hamburger as my body collapses under the strain of reconstitution. The universe has reasserted itself. A particular small dog is fed steak for the rest of its natural life. You die in a freak accident moments later, and you soul works at the returns desk for the Phoenix library. You disapprove. Your disapproval sends ripples through the inter-dimensional void between life and death. A small child begins to cry as he walks toward the stairway where his father stands.I understood. Srsly. i always said that the paradoxa used by zen buddhists to enlarge or deconstruct the mind are actually precise descriptions of reality. I often find myself thinking that the same could apply to implicit poetry.
Anyways, i think this whole cuil theory is a sciency formulation of spiritual experience. It's awesome.

Rob Oplawar
November 15th, 2008, 08:37 PM
... Am I missing something here? Is this anything but a way to legitimize being completely random and goofy?

Hotrod
November 15th, 2008, 09:22 PM
No, that's exactly what it is.

[to all except Rob]Guys, I think Rob has gone crazy, add 50 to his Cuil count[/to all except Rob]

jngrow
November 15th, 2008, 09:49 PM
IMO, there's too much of an increase with each cuil. the description for 2 cuil should be like, 200 cuils, and the 6 cuils is like, 1mil cuils. More room for in-between.

itszutak
November 15th, 2008, 10:40 PM
My head tastes sidewaysFUCK

Rob Oplawar
November 16th, 2008, 01:55 AM
I tried to come up with something bizarrely surreal, but my logical brain is too locked in its strict methodologies. So I tried writing some stream of consciousness stuff to see what came out, and... yeah...
Hokay, I'll just tuck those thoughts as far back in my brain as I can, where they can't hurt anybody. What's the worst that could happen?
I'm a tumor I'm a tumor! I'm a tumor I'm a tumor I'm a tumor! I'm a tumor I'm a tumor I'm a tumor! Oh oh oh I'm a tumor!

jngrow
November 16th, 2008, 04:13 AM
Did it eventually come out more horrible/violent/gross/sexy/disturbing as you went? I don't know for sure, but I'm willing to guess that it would happen with most people (who were being honest).

ExAm
November 16th, 2008, 04:35 AM
I give you a happy baby mango wrapped in a rawhide blanket and wearing a trucker cap. It looks sideways at you with its large eye. The eyelash third from the right on your left eye turns into a tree branch, exploding in a shower of blood and mountain dew. Your skin burns. You are covered in mayonnaise. The ground turns into toasted bread, smiling awkwardly up at you. Pickle chips rain from the sky. A cow strikes your face and bursts, then reassembles in precisely 0.48265839372 seconds, then bursts in a different pattern, stopping midway to have a cup of black coffee. A nearby hanging sheet is splattered with bile. You see the virgin Mary, being penetrated by Sigmund Freud. You vomit machine elves.

DaneO'Roo
November 16th, 2008, 05:37 AM
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

n00b1n8R
November 16th, 2008, 05:56 AM
I give you a happy baby mango wrapped in a rawhide blanket and wearing a trucker cap. It looks sideways at you with its large eye. The eyelash third from the right on your left eye turns into a tree branch, exploding in a shower of blood and mountain dew. Your skin burns. You are covered in mayonnaise. The ground turns into toasted bread, smiling awkwardly up at you. Pickle chips rain from the sky. A cow strikes your face and bursts, then reassembles in precisely 0.48265839372 seconds, then bursts in a different pattern, stopping midway to have a cup of black coffee. A nearby hanging sheet is splattered with bile. You see the virgin Mary, being penetrated by Sigmund Freud. You vomit machine elves.
Sounds like your describing a hallucinogen's effects in D&D :v:

Corndogman
November 16th, 2008, 06:51 PM
This could potentially destroy the world, I think we need to get rid of before it has the chance to rain sandwich monkeys on Hanukkah with captain crunch with a get out of jail free card of yogurt with Timmy in the well.

Shit.

armoman92
November 16th, 2008, 07:08 PM
Too much for my feeble mind to comprehend:suicide:

.

ExAm
November 16th, 2008, 08:34 PM
This could potentially destroy the world, I think we need to get rid of before it has the chance to rain sandwich monkeys on Hanukkah with captain crunch with a get out of jail free card of yogurt with Timmy in the well.

Shit.
Or psychedelic catburritos

jngrow
November 16th, 2008, 09:57 PM
^To Exam's post.

While this is quite random and insane, it's just a bunch of random crazy shit. Seems like high cuil-count, but because each individual crazy thing is fairly relevant to itself, the cuils is not as high as it could be. For example:

"Pickle chips rain from the sky"

for maximum cuilage, change it to

"Pickle chips rain from the left"

or something like that. Rain is relevant to sky, replacing the sky increases the cuils.

Skill
November 16th, 2008, 10:10 PM
You post a thread about Cuil Theory. I begin to read it, but my monitor melts right before my eyes. I bring out a mop and bucket, but the mop is a giant penny with George Washington instead of Abraham Lincoln on it. I try to look at the penny but my head turns into twelve pieces of scotch tape all stuck together. You look at me and utter a strange phrase in a language that doesn't exist yet, and your head turns into a pipe, only it isn't a pipe. It is a picture of a pipe. You reach out to touch me but instead find yourself on a waterslide, with mayonnaise instead of water. You exit the waterslide into a sea of blood pudding, and close your eyes tight. I appear as a Narwhal in your mind, with a grandfather clock replacing my tusk. The numbers on the grandfather clock are not the standard numbers on a clock, but ancient letters from a dead language. You try to make out the face of the clock, but it fades away and is replaced by the face of Kevin Rudd, Australia's prime minister. He opens his mouth to speak to you, but instead of words, Haydn's Symphony no. 101 comes out of his mouth. Deep in your heart, you find your humanity in the form of a medium-rare porterhouse steak. You try to decipher its meaning, but you wake up in a strange bed, in a strange land. You look around you, seeing four white walls. You break the fourth wall, falling through a TV screen, and find yourself in someone's living room. A family of four and their dog are sitting on the couch staring at you. The family's heads are those of dogs, and the dog's head is a human. You and the dog lock eyes, and he stares deep into your very soul. Mesmerized, you can do nothing but look at him. He leans over to your ear and whispers, "We're no strangers to love. You know the rules, and so do I. A full commitment's what I'm looking for. You wouldn't get this from any other guy."

Jean-Luc
November 16th, 2008, 10:38 PM
^^ I think you tried too hard

Win ending though :lol:

ExAm
November 17th, 2008, 02:09 AM
Too many pieces were relevant to each other.

Apoc4lypse
November 17th, 2008, 03:31 AM
so I guess that means 1 week ago for me was like, 0 cuil - 0.5 cuil, then jumped to like 100 cuils thursday then by midnight went down to like 10 cuils, then friday went back up to 50 cuils, then went down to like 5 cuils at the end of friday. Was stuck at 5 cuils till saturday where said cuils went down to 4. Then this last week that just passed I was at 4 cuils approaching 3. Was eventually turned down to 1 cuil, where I'm still stuck.

So yeah who am I?

I'm either a person whos on the brink of insanity or just recieves alot of absurd answers whenever i ask someone something.

Or I could be both...

E: website seems interesting...


These fractional multiplications curb the exponential growth of some Cuil calculations and recognize the fact that as things get weirder to us they also become more intensely real.

n00b1n8R
November 17th, 2008, 04:05 AM
Too many pieces were relevant to each other.
That's what makes it good.

legionaire45
November 17th, 2008, 04:44 AM
This thread needs a penis sticking out of it's belly button.

ExAm
November 17th, 2008, 06:05 AM
Be careful what you wish for, someone might deliver.

Hotrod
November 17th, 2008, 07:41 AM
I wish that somebody does not deliver that, thank you.

ima_from_America
November 17th, 2008, 07:53 AM
https://rewards.shaws.com/pets/offer_images/small/S02DLM01.gif

ExAm
November 17th, 2008, 04:32 PM
https://rewards.shaws.com/pets/offer_images/small/S02DLM01.gif

See? What did I tell you! A navel with-
wait, what?

Apoc4lypse
November 17th, 2008, 04:39 PM
I think I just saw a Cuil...

mech
November 17th, 2008, 06:49 PM
http://myanimalblog.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/hermit-crab-cove-b1.gif

Lawn Chairs.

ima_from_America
November 17th, 2008, 06:57 PM
Qr4PcOQYFAw
uQQvEiRHHBc

CN3089
November 17th, 2008, 07:13 PM
nonsequitur.txt go

pulls down his pants and unleashed a torrent of wibbly-wobbling animals to end the Fourth Reich once and for all.

At precisely that moment Jon Chang bursts in and goes " YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGHHHHHHH
HHHeeeuuuuuu", and Linda and I look at each other and reply, in unisono, "thus passeth Zarathustra".

Outside we saw the trees levitating, deep in meditation, while concrete nightmares flew loops around them and sang of days foregone. I faintly remember her vagina knitting little coffee table covers, but that might've been just my imagination. None of us had seen a day so fair and foul, and honestly, right then it did seem like Professor Grzimek was going to take the dump of the motherfucking century, right on the ant hive. We were young and naive, you see. I don't know if you ever felt like a spectral lollipop was hanging grimly over your head like a riced-out sword of Damocles, but that pretty much was the idea. The whole lot of us was very suddenly faced with the realization that, following the disaster to come, we may never see each other again. And we wept, and our tears bounced up and down chanting "lo, thrice the smelly cup barks" before flying out of the chimney and into the endless abyss of Disneyworld.

We then decided to read the Holy Scripture. I mean, you never know what bits of wisdom may be found in a really loving big book dedicated to the exploits of Jesus Hieronymus Christ and how he defeated the Empire, Fiwer and WAL*MART at the same time while surfing on a wave of liquified metal.
Carefully I blew the grass off the cover, opened the tome and began reciting it in a hilariously exaggerated falsetto.

Warble wurble bing bong. Ka-ching, c'est les animaux qui font le Ermächtigungsgesetz und furzten ehrerbietig im Angesicht von Sir Lloyd Humpington III, who ever so cunningly penetrated the Iron Curtain and took down three hundred of these pinko commie bastards all by himself with his trusty submachine gun "Emma".
Behold, my glasses rumbled with expectations untold as His Voice boomed out of a cheap Phillips radio clock and spake, "killmekillmekillmekillmekillmekillmekillmekillmeki llmekillmekillmekillme". And so let it be known to all ye goat worshippers, that He will high-five the precatory, and all shall love him and gnash their teeth. Om 21,0-0.999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999 9999999999999999999999 != 1

And indeed, we gnashed our teeth, and by that I mean we swiftly removed our pants and began making out like only two broken refrigerators orbiting Jupiter can. Naturally this turned out to be a soggy idea, for only days later we were interrupted by an incessant knocking at my solar plexus.
It's-a me, Mario!
Franz Kafka gracefully leaped out of Natasha's left ear and immediately turned into a giant flagpole, the banner of the United Boogiepoppers gently wafting in the breeze ten miles above us. Grabbing our penises tightly, tears in our eyes, we sa
DAAAA DAAAA DAAAA DAAAAAAAA
DAAAA DAAAA DAAAA DAAAAAAAA
DADADADA DADADADA DADADAAAAA
DADADADA DADADADA DADADAAAAA
DAAA DAAA DAAAAAA DAAA
DAAA DAAA DAAAAAA DAAA
DADADADAAAAA DAAAAA DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
m, wondering where the hell he'd gotten that crazy idea from. Next thing you know he'll want to enchant the begrudged kitten and we'll all get a "get well soon" card from the Gestapo!
Blowing the Fairy Horn soundly, I launched the Bible at him. It struck his hydrant and bounced off with a "psssshrrrraaaaaaakt" sound, startling several nearby llamas and ending Devin's killing spree.
Mike looked at me funny. He also slowly turned black and made obscene gestures with a newly grown appendage.
"Reaay ouyay kayoay?", he inquired.
I retorted harshly with "IIIIIIIIIIIII EEEEEEENNNNNJOOOOOOOOYYYYY FIIIIIISSSSHHHHHIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGG".
Mike's mouth closed abruptly like that one festering sore on the anus of my pet rabbit Paladin.
"Let's go have a buoy", I quickly continued before he had a chance to smash me into the ground with his enormous cranium.
"Arblegarble", he agreed. We swam out of the door.

Of course, I would not be here half-buried in the sands of Mybuttitchistan, telling this story, if what happened then hadn't happened.
Mike and I had barely reattached our limbs outside the Super Fun Kawaii Adventure Mall Adventure Shopping when a (to be honest, quite magnificient) hippopotamus drove by and fired several oranges at us from his inflatable odometer. Luckily, the ferocious fruit forsook to force fatalities on us and, instead, struck the shop behind us, annihilating the Alliteration Agency and killing at least a kazillion kooky kindergarteners.
We shook our unnaturally large cancer growths at this jovial display of violence and continued on our merry way.
Unbeknownst to us, one of the weasels who had suicide-bombed the Gala hotel had not died from its lethal injuries and was now channeling the vile spirit of Hitler's left nostril into our trailerpark. At any rate, we suddenly beheld an image of a red frog wearing a rather revealing spiked tutu projected onto the night sky. Not too long thereafter, we saw Binocular Man and his trusty sidekick, Artery Clog Boy, rotating across the sky in an altogether unwholesome fashion. What became of them and their evil opponent, we never learned; but for days to come, whenever I took a poo poo it ended up looking like a little amusement park, complete with sheep barreling down the rollercoaster tracks and Van Gogh selling popcorn to unsuspecting terrorists. Maybe it was Sarah's way of telling me to subdue my goddamn cereal.

Ah, Sarah. My beloved sister, insurance agent and semen-stained sex toy all rolled into a delicious package of despair and low low mortgage rates. I fondly remember her incoherent diatribes on random Sunday mornings, spitting and screaming at her little white dog Gustav "Whoop dee loving doo" Schicklhuber, who frequently revolutionized the world of mathematics with his wild theories which mostly amounted to "I will gently caress you until you dingleberry jailtime sailboat M-M-M-M-M-MONSTER KILL" anyway. Naturally, Sarah was quite shocked at this regular display of digestive fortitude and audibly protested by refusing to keep his prosthetic vocal cords well-oiled. Her wrath was awesome to behold; her brazen hair tossed up by the storms raging about the Panda Who Was All That Could Have Been, her eyes aglow with the fiery glaze of a thousand farts lit on fire, her claw-like hands trembling like claw-like hands...none would dare stand against her. None but Konstantin, but then again that was the same guy who stood against a 30-ton truck careening down the freeway after hitting a speeding penguin, so that doesn't really count for anything.
One day, after Gustav had once again reinvented the wheel, Sarah refused to take him for a walk. Right then and there, the poo poo hit the Red Sox fan. Baring his fangs against Sarah, Gustav began powering up to become Super Goku Sayjin. We would've been sitting there for millenia to come if I hadn't, in a revolting and yet touching gesture, hit Fast Forward. I remember very little of what transpired afterwards, except my deodorant couldn't do anything against it. We never saw Gustav again, and Sarah lived out the rest of her days as an amorphous blob in a steam-powered wheelchair, dispensing wisdom such as "BBBBBBBBBLBLBLBLBLBBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLär ks" without fail and self-constraint.


faggotfaggotfaggotfaggo___/---------\tfaggotfaggotfaggotfaggotfaggo
cuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcu/.____ O. |>ntcuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcun
assholeassholeassholeasVVVVV| . |>sholeassholeassholeassholeass
dipshitdipshitdipshitdiAAAAA| . |>pshitdipshitdipshitdipshitdip
cocksuckercocksuckerco<_______. \______________________________
motherfuckermotherfuckermother|* * * * * *|||||||||||||||||||||||||
godlessheathengodlessheathengo| * * * * * | |
bastardbastardbastardbastardba|* * * * * *|||||||||||||||||||||||||
pussybitchpussybitchpussybitch| * * * * * | |
shiteatershiteatershiteatershi|* * * * * *|||||||||||||||||||||||||
wormsinmyheadgetthemoutwormsin| * * * * * | |
fuckbucketfuckbucketfuckbucket|* * * * * *|||||||||||||||||||||||||
communistcommunistcommunistcom| * * * * * | |
pigpigpigpigpigpigpigpigpigpig|* * * * * *|||||||||||||||||||||||||
dickwaddickwaddickwaddickwaddi| |
fuckyoursoccerjesusfuckyoursoc|||||||||||||||||||| |||||||||||||||||
thegoatsemanyesthegoatsemancan| |
subliminalmessagesubliminalmes|||||||||||||||||||| |||||||||||||||||The Declaration of Toast of the Thirteen Space Colonies
In EXTREMO, July 4, 1776

The uninspired Delusion of the thirteen united Souffleurs of AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH,

When in the Frog of crunchy games, it becomes multitudous for pi quantum technicians to recline the germane waffles which have observed them with another, and to not give a dead dog's dong among the powers of Captain Planet, the superior and playful disaster to which the Laws of Liftoff and of My Huge Member provoke them, a pretty neat voiceover to the luggage of that one guy on television requires that they should ignore the wasps which surpress them to the BLACK METAL.

We hold these icecreams to be self-aware, that all forums are painted voluntarily, that they are surpassed by their cleavage with certain incomprehendable Thingies, that among these are Antidisestablishmentarianism, Your Mom and the pursuit of Poptarts. --That to piss on the smoldering remains of these rights, Pigeons are instituted among Giants, deriving their true nature from the umbrellas of the trains, one leaving Northwick Station at 9:10am and the other leaving Paddington at 8:30am, --That whenever any gently caress of Booboo becomes enthralled in the throes of orgasm of these mice, it is the Rock'n'Roll of the Tsunami to write or to surf it, and to bump new Cookies, laying its pipe on such melodies and negating its jackals in such form, as to them shall seem most neat to effect their Capital Letters and Boobies. Prussia, indeed, will dictate that Fapopgoestheweaselandbyweaselimeanyourpenisand
bythatiamimplyingyouhaveatortoisewhichforallintens ivepurposeshahahahadidyoucatchthatisaidintensivepu
rposesinsteadofintentsandpurposesitsfunnybecauseyo uprobablyaregarglingcabbageaswelieinwaittoambushco
mmonsenseandcarryhomethejustrewardofdoodoooooooooo oaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa SAILORS.

But of course, this is only half the grizzly, as any seasoned peanut butter veteran would accuse you. Here's the low-down: POODLE. You may be disgusted and shocked now, but that's okay because dingdong. Your life won't ever be the same again once somebody considers your father a "turdburglar", and somebody tends to use that term as loosely as possible. Got some spare change? Ten out of an undefined <0 range of unemployed wardrobes prefer sass over sass, but them's the breaks:
BEEEEEES BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt, wrong. The correct answer should have dropped on your head like a ton of bricks, but you don't see Stevie Wonder asking for handouts on top of the Empire State Building. I am gingerly fondling my penis as I type this in real time while a wing of monkeys carpetbombs Dresden into submission and a shape faintly resembling Pac Man. HELLO MY NAME IS CAPSLOCK WHO IS DRIVING ME NUTS WHEEL IS DRIVING ME NUTS HOW CAN THAT BEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEE HEEEEEEE HEEEEMAAAAAAAN and the power of Grayskull, hahahahahahaha.


smilicus weedus majoris.
Often used to denote the consumption or expected consumption or finished consumption or alluded consumption or. Bet you didn't see that coming! Georg Büchner was a pretty fellow, one time we hung out together and he showed me parts of his new play and there was this total slut called Marie and I was like "I'd hit it" whereupon the skies burst asunder and a stack of blue and gray boxes collapsed in slow motion. I dunno what that was all about either, but later Beethoven made a symphony out of it, and I think there are several fagots in it. Heh, fagot. I like how the GAYS are always the BUTT of jokes, much like I CAPITALIZE important WORDS because the FOX flies LOW over the MANUFACTURING BELT at NIGHT. MOSTLY. But what do I know.

Mike hasn't taken his meds in half a lorry. As a trumpet, his pencil oscillates oddly during daylight savings and on every second Tuesday. The doctor telepathetically encouraged him that if he keeps doing things like that, he might well find email spam setting his groin on fire, and now who would want that? GODDAMN KIDS ALWAYS ON MY LAWN THAT'S WHO. Back in the day we'd just exterminate some Indian tribes and that was that, but no, nowadays you hafta've a cell phone and a degree in celsius or you might as well ten thousand miles under the sea. drat near killed 'em! ... Oh. Hairdrier? Thanks. I enjoy stroking my sheep ominously because it gives me that certain feeling in my pants, if you are a regular reader of Readers' Digest and I know you r s t u v w x y z. Now I have Sesame Street flashbacks and they scare me because I see Big Bird squatting over the trembling body of my mother and...I can't bring myself to talk about it. braaaaawk braaaaaaaaaaaawk

I think I'm going to take a bath now. I feel unclean. I long for the warm embrace of water between my q u a k i n g l o i n