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quote:...Syme had never thought of asking whether the monstrous man who almost filled quote:"...First of all, what is it really all about? What is it you object to? You quote:..."Professor," he cried, "it is intolerable. Are you afraid of this man?" quote:Both combatants had thrown off their coats and waistcoats, and stood sword in quote:..."I think," said Dr. Bull with precision, "that I am lying in bed at No. 217 quote:... "I never hated you," said Syme very sadly.
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# ? May 19, 2017 01:26 |
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# ? Apr 26, 2024 15:17 |
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i played deus ex and never read the excerpts >:]
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# ? May 19, 2017 01:51 |
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Relin posted:i played deus ex and never read the excerpts >:]
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# ? May 19, 2017 01:56 |
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I actually read The Man Who Was Thursday and Napoleon of Notting Hill a year or two ago The former is ultimately a straight religious analogy, and the latter is set in a "near future" where Kings are elected at random. A cross between a CSPAM poster and a Monty Python character is elected King, and he begins making up ridiculous fake history for all the parts of London because it's a laugh. Then somebody takes all the silly stuff perfectly seriously Both are really genuinely funny in places, and the Man Who Was Thursday is also genuinely creepy in bits as well. It matches Deus Ex as it's all about a secret society of anarchists and God Both are available on project gutenberg The Man Who Was Thursday Napoleon of Notting Hill quote:He strode across to the group of anarchists, which was already distributing itself along the benches.
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# ? May 19, 2017 02:10 |
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Actually, speaking again of Deus Ex for a sec is Trump a member of the Trilateral Commission?
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# ? May 19, 2017 02:13 |
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No 1, that's terror No 2, that's terror
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# ? May 19, 2017 04:03 |
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# ? May 19, 2017 10:20 |
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I didn't read the post, because it was too long.
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# ? May 19, 2017 10:35 |
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Desperate
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# ? May 19, 2017 10:35 |
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to you, it was the most important day of your life, but for me it was thursday
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# ? May 19, 2017 13:22 |
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the man who was thursday is really, really good as soon as you realize our protagonists are all total loving idiots it becomes a straight religious allegory by the end, because you can tell the author couldn't figure out a satisfying way to wrap the whole thing up, but the main plot element is fantastic every member of the Anarchist Grand Council of Days is so clearly malevolent of intent and hateful of aspect, a reflection of one of the grotesque faces of this "movement;" the coarse peasant, the fat young doctor whose ambitions were thwarted, the professor who has spent too long with his books, the flightly, arrogant aristocratic class traitor, etc, etc that it is a wonder any regime lets them walk the streets at all! and then the second Our Heroes learn one of them is actually on their side OH, of course, they're actually just fine to look at and are actually productive happy members of society, unlike all the REST of that hateful Council.
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# ? May 19, 2017 15:31 |
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rudatron posted:No 1, that's terror Corporations are so big you don't even know who you're working for. That's terror. Terror built into the system.
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# ? May 19, 2017 17:09 |
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“The answer is simple,” he said. “I told you I was a serious anarchist, and you did not believe me. Nor do they believe me. Unless I took them into this infernal room they would not believe me.” Syme smoked thoughtfully, and looked at him with interest. Gregory went on. “The history of the thing might amuse you,” he said. “When first I became one of the New Anarchists I tried all kinds of respectable disguises. I dressed up as a bishop. I read up all about bishops in our anarchist pamphlets, in Superstition the Vampire and Priests of Prey. I certainly understood from them that bishops are strange and terrible old men keeping a cruel secret from mankind. I was misinformed. When on my first appearing in episcopal gaiters in a drawing-room I cried out in a voice of thunder, ‘Down! down! presumptuous human reason!’ they found out in some way that I was not a bishop at all. I was nabbed at once. Then I made up as a millionaire; but I defended Capital with so much intelligence that a fool could see that I was quite poor. Then I tried being a major. Now I am a humanitarian myself, but I have, I hope, enough intellectual breadth to understand the position of those who, like Nietzsche, admire violence—the proud, mad war of Nature and all that, you know. I threw myself into the major. I drew my sword and waved it constantly. I called out ‘Blood!’ abstractedly, like a man calling for wine. I often said, ‘Let the weak perish; it is the Law.’ Well, well, it seems majors don’t do this. I was nabbed again. At last I went in despair to the President of the Central Anarchist Council, who is the greatest man in Europe.” “What is his name?” asked Syme. “You would not know it,” answered Gregory. “That is his greatness. Caesar and Napoleon put all their genius into being heard of, and they were heard of. He puts all his genius into not being heard of, and he is not heard of. But you cannot be for five minutes in the room with him without feeling that Caesar and Napoleon would have been children in his hands.” He was silent and even pale for a moment, and then resumed— “But whenever he gives advice it is always something as startling as an epigram, and yet as practical as the Bank of England. I said to him, ‘What disguise will hide me from the world? What can I find more respectable than bishops and majors?’ He looked at me with his large but indecipherable face. ‘You want a safe disguise, do you? You want a dress which will guarantee you harmless; a dress in which no one would ever look for a bomb?’ I nodded. He suddenly lifted his lion’s voice. ‘Why, then, dress up as an anarchist, you fool!’ he roared so that the room shook. ‘Nobody will ever expect you to do anything dangerous then.’ And he turned his broad back on me without another word. I took his advice, and have never regretted it. I preached blood and murder to those women day and night, and—by God!—they would let me wheel their perambulators.”
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# ? May 19, 2017 17:13 |
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# ? May 19, 2017 17:14 |
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Jose posted:Desperate Desperate.
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# ? May 19, 2017 19:30 |
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Laphroaig posted:Desperate. Stick with the riot prod
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# ? May 19, 2017 21:03 |
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JC Denton hears voices all the time and they tell him to do stuff sometimes it's from a computer that wants to be God Sometimes its from a evil billionaire who wants to be God
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# ? May 19, 2017 21:09 |
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is it hard to read? i skipped all the books in deus ex in favour of augmentally killing everyone
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# ? May 19, 2017 22:12 |
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leg aug + jumping on everyones head is the best way to play
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# ? May 19, 2017 22:12 |
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Jose posted:is it hard to read? i skipped all the books in deus ex in favour of augmentally killing everyone it's short as hell. only annoyance is that it's written in that whole Oscar Wilde style where you know like half the details were ridiculously cutting burns at the time, and are now lost to history. on an unrelated note, trump doctor sex cake
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# ? May 19, 2017 22:27 |
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you will quickly come to the conclusion that christ the protagonist is an insufferable liberal dipshit this is the correct conclusion, continue reading through it
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# ? May 19, 2017 22:36 |
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quote:There was a stir of almost inaudible applause, such as is sometimes heard in church. Then a large old man, with a long and venerable white beard, perhaps the only real working-man present, rose lumberingly and said—
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# ? May 19, 2017 22:53 |
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unatco hurt my weenie
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# ? May 19, 2017 23:43 |
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Why contain it? 's cool.
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# ? May 20, 2017 00:20 |
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Ostiosis posted:Why contain it?
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# ? May 20, 2017 15:26 |
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A NEW AGE
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# ? May 20, 2017 15:58 |
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Can I just say that if the gubbermint *really* wanted to cut down the surplus population they'd just engineer a fatal infection that had a really expensive cure All of this subtle killing of white people by letting the free market decide what food they eat, the availability of opiates, and driving everywhere is bullshit
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# ? May 20, 2017 16:00 |
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Nebakenezzer posted:Can I just say that if the gubbermint *really* wanted to cut down the surplus population they'd just engineer a fatal infection that had a really expensive cure
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# ? May 20, 2017 16:31 |
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No they're killing white people by saying race mixing is okay
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# ? May 20, 2017 17:03 |
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"Don't you believe in Zoroaster? Is it possible that you neglect Mumbo-Jumbo?" returned the King, with startling animation. "Does a man of your intelligence come to me with these damned early Victorian ethics? If, on studying my features and manner, you detect any particular resemblance to the Prince Consort, I assure you you are mistaken. Did Herbert Spencer ever convince you—did he ever convince anybody—did he ever for one mad moment convince himself—that it must be to the interest of the individual to feel a public spirit? Do you believe that, if you rule your department badly, you stand any more chance, or one half of the chance, of being guillotined, that an angler stands of being pulled into the river by a strong pike? Herbert Spencer refrained from theft for the same reason that he refrained from wearing feathers in his hair, because he was an English gentleman with different tastes. I am an English gentleman with different tastes. He liked philosophy. I like art. He liked writing ten books on the nature of human society. I like to see the Lord Chamberlain walking in front of me with a piece of paper pinned to his coat-tails. It is my humour. Are you answered? At any rate, I have said my last serious word to-day, and my last serious word I trust for the remainder of my life in this Paradise of Fools. The remainder of my conversation with you to-day, which I trust will be long and stimulating, I propose to conduct in a new language of my own by means of rapid and symbolic movements of the left leg." And he began to pirouette slowly round the room with a preoccupied expression.
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# ? May 20, 2017 19:30 |
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JC was loving savage
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# ? May 20, 2017 22:47 |
Jose posted:JC was loving savage UNATCO
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# ? May 20, 2017 23:25 |
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No, savage.
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# ? May 21, 2017 05:13 |
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Old men are the future.
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# ? May 21, 2017 07:28 |
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A long, lean, black cigar, bought in Soho for twopence, stood out from between his tightened teeth, and altogether he looked a very satisfactory specimen of the anarchists upon whom he had vowed a holy war. Perhaps this was why a policeman on the Embankment spoke to him, and said “Good evening.” Syme, at a crisis of his morbid fears for humanity, seemed stung by the mere stolidity of the automatic official, a mere bulk of blue in the twilight. “A good evening is it?” he said sharply. “You fellows would call the end of the world a good evening. Look at that bloody red sun and that bloody river! I tell you that if that were literally human blood, spilt and shining, you would still be standing here as solid as ever, looking out for some poor harmless tramp whom you could move on. You policemen are cruel to the poor, but I could forgive you even your cruelty if it were not for your calm.” “If we are calm,” replied the policeman, “it is the calm of organised resistance.” “Eh?” said Syme, staring. “The soldier must be calm in the thick of the battle,” pursued the policeman. “The composure of an army is the anger of a nation.”
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# ? May 21, 2017 14:49 |
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Lightning Lord posted:Old men are the future. WE are the future Aquinas spoke of a mythical forum on the hill
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# ? May 21, 2017 15:13 |
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Then he turned to the Secretary, whose frightful mouth was almost foaming now, and held the lamp high with so rigid and arresting a gesture, that the man was, as it were, frozen for a moment, and forced to hear. “Do you see this lantern?” cried Syme in a terrible voice. “Do you see the cross carved on it, and the flame inside? You did not make it. You did not light it. Better men than you, men who could believe and obey, twisted the entrails of iron and preserved the legend of fire. There is not a street you walk on, there is not a thread you wear, that was not made as this lantern was, by denying your philosophy of dirt and rats. You can make nothing. You can only destroy. You will destroy mankind; you will destroy the world. Let that suffice you. Yet this one old Christian lantern you shall not destroy. It shall go where your empire of apes will never have the wit to find it.” He struck the Secretary once with the lantern so that he staggered; and then, whirling it twice round his head, sent it flying far out to sea, where it flared like a roaring rocket and fell. “Swords!” shouted Syme, turning his flaming face to the three behind him. “Let us charge these dogs, for our time has come to die.” His three companions came after him sword in hand. Syme’s sword was broken, but he rent a bludgeon from the fist of a fisherman, flinging him down. In a moment they would have flung themselves upon the face of the mob and perished, when an interruption came. The Secretary, ever since Syme’s speech, had stood with his hand to his stricken head as if dazed; now he suddenly pulled off his black mask. The pale face thus peeled in the lamplight revealed not so much rage as astonishment. He put up his hand with an anxious authority. “There is some mistake,” he said. “Mr. Syme, I hardly think you understand your position. I arrest you in the name of the law.”
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# ? May 21, 2017 15:33 |
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Rhukatah posted:Then he turned to the Secretary, whose frightful mouth was almost foaming now, and held the lamp high with so rigid and arresting a gesture, that the man was, as it were, frozen for a moment, and forced to hear. Whoa, the original "if you hate capitalism why do you have an iPhone"
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# ? May 21, 2017 20:09 |
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Jeb! Repetition posted:Whoa, the original "if you hate capitalism why do you have an iPhone" followed up with a "bro are you loving stupid we are on the same team"
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# ? May 21, 2017 20:31 |
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# ? Apr 26, 2024 15:17 |
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“I am by profession an actor, and my name is Wilks. When I was on the stage I mixed with all sorts of Bohemian and blackguard company. Sometimes I touched the edge of the turf, sometimes the riff-raff of the arts, and occasionally the political refugee. In some den of exiled dreamers I was introduced to the great German Nihilist philosopher, Professor de Worms. I did not gather much about him beyond his appearance, which was very disgusting, and which I studied carefully. I understood that he had proved that the destructive principle in the universe was God; hence he insisted on the need for a furious and incessant energy, rending all things in pieces. Energy, he said, was the All. He was lame, shortsighted, and partially paralytic. When I met him I was in a frivolous mood, and I disliked him so much that I resolved to imitate him. If I had been a draughtsman I would have drawn a caricature. I was only an actor, I could only act a caricature. I made myself up into what was meant for a wild exaggeration of the old Professor’s dirty old self. When I went into the room full of his supporters I expected to be received with a roar of laughter, or (if they were too far gone) with a roar of indignation at the insult. I cannot describe the surprise I felt when my entrance was received with a respectful silence, followed (when I had first opened my lips) with a murmur of admiration. The curse of the perfect artist had fallen upon me. I had been too subtle, I had been too true. They thought I really was the great Nihilist Professor. I was a healthy-minded young man at the time, and I confess that it was a blow. Before I could fully recover, however, two or three of these admirers ran up to me radiating indignation, and told me that a public insult had been put upon me in the next room. I inquired its nature. It seemed that an impertinent fellow had dressed himself up as a preposterous parody of myself. I had drunk more champagne than was good for me, and in a flash of folly I decided to see the situation through. Consequently it was to meet the glare of the company and my own lifted eyebrows and freezing eyes that the real Professor came into the room. “I need hardly say there was a collision. The pessimists all round me looked anxiously from one Professor to the other Professor to see which was really the more feeble. But I won. An old man in poor health, like my rival, could not be expected to be so impressively feeble as a young actor in the prime of life. You see, he really had paralysis, and working within this definite limitation, he couldn’t be so jolly paralytic as I was. Then he tried to blast my claims intellectually. I countered that by a very simple dodge. Whenever he said something that nobody but he could understand, I replied with something which I could not even understand myself.
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# ? May 21, 2017 21:37 |