Tiggum posted:

All I did was want the one that gets quoted everywhere. And I can tell that's all. I can need you. You like everyone else, but I'm the one.

Syd Midnight posted:

"I sodomize men"

- Graffiti from Pompeii, location VI.14.20 (House of Orpheus); #4523

Tiggum posted:

All I did was ask a simple question that still hasn't been answered. All I want to know is why that particular translation is the one that gets quoted everywhere when, in most of the contexts in which you see it, that kind of translation does not seem ideal? What's the source? What were the reasons for translating it that way? Unless you know who translated it and where and why they published that translation then you don't know the answer and your guesses are not helpful. And as far as I can tell that's all you're doing - guessing. I can guess too, I don't need you for that. You, like everyone else who has responded to my question, are providing absolutely no new information then acting like as though you've given not only a definitive answer but that I'm the one who's being unreasonable. The opposite is true.

Blade_of_tyshalle posted:

Is that how my life ends? Time travel to Pompeii, only to die when Vesuvius erupts?

I suppose there's less metal ways to go.

Mycroft Holmes posted:

someone post the quote bout the obtuse troll and the chess game

quote:

A better analogy would be if someone walks into a championship tournament, says "GEE I THINK I MAY HAVE TRANSCENDED THE UNDERSTANDING OF SOME OF YOU GRANDMASTERS HERE, WANT TO JOIN MY NEW SCHOOL OF CHESS STRATEGY?", then loses by scholar's mate twice in the first round.

This person then refuses to leave his seat, claiming that he needs additional proof that the queen in f7 actually ontologically exists before he will admit defeat, and that the rules of the CHESS ESTABLISHMENT were unfairly biased against him by disallowing the possibility of his king being able to leapfrog pieces.

Then he pulls out an ancient shopping list from 1905 and claims that "1. Eggs" means 'The King', "2. Butter" means 'can', and "3. Milk" means 'leapfrog'. This is admissible evidence for his case because he has lived according to the dictates of this list since he was a teenager, and it has drastically improved his quality of life. When the referees tell him that this makes no loving sense, he drags them into a three hour debate over the precise meaning of the words 'makes', 'no', 'loving', and 'sense'.

When people point out that there is more than enough evidence to suggest his list is just a scrap of paper from some long-dead housewife's purse, he rather proudly points out how close-minded they are in dismissing outright the possibility that the list was in fact a secret coded message on the best way to live life, originally formulated by Atlanteans and passed down through the ages disguised as everyday documents. After all, if one starts with the presupposition that such a document exists, then it would be very fair to argue that it is indeed in the form of his shopping list.

Never mind that his previous interpretations of the list led to three convictions and time served for robbery, hate crimes, and murder. These were just unfortunate misinterpretations on his part of the list's true intentions, he says. The list itself is blameless. In fact, the Atlanteans deliberately obfuscated the true meaning of the list in this way, so that it would require multiple failed misinterpretations before one would happen across its TRUE meaning, and in doing so appreciate it all the more.

In fact, he does have some evidence to back up his claims. Why, just last week during his daily meditation on the list, he felt it telling him that something good was about to happen in his future. And yesterday, wouldn't you know it, he found a twenty dollar note on the sidewalk! Evidence of the list's prophetic powers if I ever saw one. And believe him, he has many more stories where that came from.

By now, the debate has splintered off into innumerable tangents, with the one man against literally every other player and referee present at the tournament. Finally, he graciously accepts the possibility of defeat in some of the myriad topics now being covered. OK, maybe the tallest player doesn't always get to go first. Fine, I will concede that there isn't much evidence to support my third-invisible-knight hypothesis. But that's all irrelevant. What he wants to concentrate on, and what nobody has yet been able to disprove, he adds, is the ability of the king to leapfrog over other pieces.

The argument drags on for weeks. Finally, one afternoon, the beet-faced referee exhausts his last reserves of decency and throws his arms up in frustration and despair. "YOU loving RETARD, HOW CAN YOU LAY CLAIM TO KNOWING ANYTHING ABOUT CHESS STRATEGY WHEN YOU DON'T EVEN GRASP THE MOST BASIC RULES!?" He shouts, just as a new entrant walks through the door. "I'm sorry," replies the man calmly, "I simply cannot discuss the rules of chess with such an 'official' if you insist on using such strong and uncouth language. Please retract your insults or I will be forced to plug my ears whenever you say anything from now on."

Seeing only this last exchange, the new entrant pipes up. "He's right, you know. If he did something wrong, then you as the referee have every right to tell him he is so, but it should be done with a patient and thorough explanation of the details of his error. Hurling ridicule at him solves nothing and won't change anyone's mind."

The lazy eye of the retarded List-following, King-leapfrogging man twitches almost unnoticeably, as he cranes his head towards the source of this new voice. A welcoming smile cracks, inch by beaming inch, across his face. He licks his lips. He clears his throat.

"So glad to know decent people like you still value a polite discussion. Care for a game?"

VideoGameVet posted:

They should build the wall out of Hillary because ...

NO ONE CAN GET OVER HER.

Picnic Princess posted:

Tumble posted:

normally it costs a ton of money to upgrade a chairlift to be a detachable quad, this is some serious cost-saving

Besesoth posted:

It's on the first page, but what the hell.

Outrail posted:

I'm forced to read this every time it's posted. We all know that guy, and I assume most of us have been that guy to some extent.

Olaf The Stout posted:

This was stolen from /politics on reddit. It had like 5 golds and was the top reply to a 10,000+ comment chain.

Olaf The Stout posted:

This was stolen from /politics on reddit. It had like 5 golds and was the top reply to a 10,000+ comment chain.

Hihohe posted:

I never go to reddit, do these accolades mean anything at all?

Krankenstyle posted:

i believe the most recent exchange rate (sep. 2008) makes it out to 600 golden manbabies & a hundred goon sires

ChickenOfTomorrow posted:

whats that in new monitors

big crush on Chad OMG posted:

Lol just lol if you don’t have 1 gig up and down

Pissflaps posted:

Your mam has a gig going up and down

shut up blegum posted:

shut up blegum posted:

shut up blegum posted:

shut up blegum posted:

Guy Goodbody posted:

You need a link to support the idea that a brand new transit system involving a massive underground tunnel system built to create and sustain vacuum while also opening dozens of times per day via hundreds of car elevators to transport this new kind of see through plastic pleasure bus is going to be more expensive than the regular buses that he have now? Really? You really need to see documentation to support the claim that a massive infrastructure project based around the implementation of vacuum tube technology at a scale never before seen, and also the installation of hundreds of giant street level elevators in one of the most expensive real estate markets in the world, is going to cost more than buses? Buses, the things that even the poorest countries in the world have? Which are basically just big trucks and operate on existing roads?

I'm really trying not to be insulting here, but it's real fuckin' hard. Does your brain work? Can you form thoughts?

Trig Discipline posted:

Niiiiice

El Gallinero Gros posted:

Wow, praise from Aurelia

Absurd Alhazred posted:

Blade_of_tyshalle posted:

Is that how my life ends? Time travel to Pompeii, only to die when Vesuvius erupts?

I suppose there's less metal ways to go.

The_Book_Of_Harry posted:

Barry Bluejeans posted:

Okay. I was hoping to have a respectful exchange here, but you're clearly not interested in that. Bye.

Lowtax posted:

stop making fun of my bones

Chris Knight posted:

too many bones?
not enough cash?

President Beep posted:

i have a structured skeleton but i need cash now

Slotducks posted:

Do you wanna see my Delorean?

gary oldmans diary posted:

i wanna bury him alive just like in that movie where someone gets buried alive

amusinginquiry posted:

Buried Alive?

gary oldmans diary posted:

nah thats not it

china bot posted:

Ernest Goes Somewhere Deep

Aerith Gainthborough posted:

Sorry if I missed it but could anyone direct me to the long rear end post about the Dodge Viper?

I remember reading it on here so long ago and actually peeing myself a bit laughing.

Seat Safety Switch posted:

The Viper has actually done us a major service in removing the kind of people who would own a Viper from public society. When the car was announced they appeared unbidden at the gates of Dodge dealerships across the country, rubbing their blood-stained hands against the immaculate window glass until a salesman came outside and taught them how to use a door.

Wild-eyed, these men first attempted to pay for their factory hot rods with clusters of pulled hair and bloody teeth before pulling out inexplicable sums of money from their dragon-like hoard of cash, saturated with the tang of human blood to the point that it dripped crimson trails onto the manicured industrial-estate tile flooring. Innocent salesmen who went along with them for the test drive "for insurance purposes" returned shaken, mute, with white hair and permanently dilated pupils, unable to share their tale of the horrors that ensued on that fateful use of the dealer plate. Normal people would never attend the Dodge dealership to witness these vehicles, being perfectly happy to gaze at them from an aesthetic perspective before plopping down an outsize credit note on lifted minivan after lifted minivan, continuing on with their life and never descending into the kind of purestrain madness that would promote the purchase of a Viper.

Seemingly unemployed, these Viper owners wreaked havoc across the nation, dragging their RT/10s on our highways and byways before locating and docking with the nearest tree to the dealership. Those who survived their high-speed Viper crash were reborn in a baptism of fire, taking these broken men and giving us new, hardened, experienced psychopaths who immediately set out to purchase a second generation Viper when it became available. Despite the Dodge, for years America was helpless, crippled with fear of these dearborists, and our economy collapsed to the point that the Europeans were able to take advantage of our weakened world position, launching savage leveraged takeovers that crippled our most useless corporations, among them the mother of the Viper. The Dodge was struck down, and the Viper was to cease.

The Dodge, under the direction of the Germans, lost its love of terror and spectacle and discontinued the Viper as they instead concentrated on making more lifted minivans to attract the kind of man who would only appreciate the Viper as an abstract spectacle of wealth and power, rather than a direct-engagement three-pedaled suicide machine rendered from brimstone and lubricated with the souls of the damned. The loyalists were lost in the wild, hoarding the few remaining examples from being crashed into trees at high speeds and sequestering them away amongst yachts and period-correct lowboy restorations at a gathering known only as Barrett-Jackson.

Before long the original Viper owner hoard began to thin itself out, and the surviving cars began to depreciate. That's when they came down from the mountain. Cheap-rear end hobbyists. Clutching Weiand blowers and laughing in their odd high pitch, half-panicked, half-aroused as they eyed what was left of their fiberglass-bodied ankle-burning sex machine. The next age of Viper Terror was among us. The kind of man who would originally buy a new Viper became restless, and they swarmed across Wall Street, launching the world into an orgy of high-risk, violent bets that struck out at the common man. In order to sate their desire for adrenalin and property destruction, these men had gained power and cast the world into economic disaster that destroyed even The Dodge they once embraced.

After many more months of darkness, The Dodge returned. A man who had been to hell and back approached the podium. The Gilles told us of a new Viper - a new promise - and that America would soon be unified under an appreciation for the new Viper. Our nation's psychos would be comfortably ensconced once again in a faux-luxury hot rod that had a predilection for snap oversteer and brutal triple-digit crashes that atomized the occupants of the car.

America was safe. This time we had learned not to fear the Viper, but to fund it with our governments.

Craptacular! posted:

My server has over 500 episodes of Power Rangers, with a little less than half of them marked, and thats before we get into the Japanese show its based on, where I have hundreds more. I also watch a bunch of based on comic books shows like The Flash, Supergirl, and one of those Marvel programs. I should be swimming in superhero toy ads, right?

My social ads are for pizza, Starbucks, and pet beds.

Improbable Lobster posted:

Craptacular! posted:

My server has over 500 episodes of Power Rangers, with a little less than half of them marked, and that’s before we get into the Japanese show it’s based on, where I have hundreds more. I also watch a bunch of “based on comic books” shows like The Flash, Supergirl, and one of those Marvel programs. I should be swimming in superhero toy ads, right?

My social ads are for pizza, Starbucks, and pet beds.