Carmen Sandiego stole the Louvre and replaced it with a bunch of pictures of naked people!
And because when you stop thinking about the Weeping Angels, Candle Jack kidnaps you and forces you to watch a rickroll while the yo dog guy takes a potato and eats it and boils it, mashes it, and sticks it in a stew who is making chocolate pudding at five in the morning because he's ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROLL of his precious little life and wonders what is love, and the baby doesn't hurt you because the goggles do nothing to block you watching the rickroll and then Chuck Norris gets beaten up by Segata Sanshiro which makes the pokey move fast enough to stop the baby from hurting you, and then once stew delivers the chocolate pudding to the pokeyed baby he loses controll of his life and loses his potatoes, so Candle Jack has to make another stew and so he's gonna need more rope which he must steal from pedobear an
There is so much in life to live for! The hats, the food, the people, the joys, the books, the fishing, the traveling, the long rambling conversations, the friends, the accidents that you laugh about years later, the art, all the emotions of love and hate and fear and trust and happiness and sorrow and grief and jubilation and hope and anger and gladness, the things you can do, the things you can see, the things you can be, the places you can go and the people you can talk with, the thoughts you can think as you pace around in circles, the feeling as you get into bed after a long day that you spent that day in good hard work, the feeling of seeing a ten-month winter gradually melt and turn into glorious beautiful spring of color and life, the memories, and so much more.
Would we really love Lincoln to the extent that we do if he hadn't died the way he did? I mean, he did suspend habeas corpus and the right of free press/speech, but by killing Abraham L. right after he brought triumph to the north and freedom to the slaves, John Wilkes Booth unintentionally ensured Lincoln's reputation as a martyr, as a victim. Also, it left the big problem of reconstruction on the shoulders of Lincoln's VP, Johnson.
That's not to say that Abraham Lincoln wasn't a good president, but would he have become the near-mythic figure that he did without his tragic death?
Those people are fools. They are missing out on many of the greatest experiences and most wonderful pleasures of life. If they have never been entertained by Rudyard Kipling's compulsively readable prose, never brought to tears by John Stienbeck or Hans Christian Anderson, never experienced the writings of Pascal, Voltaire, or Rousseau, never expierienced any of the other billions of books out there to be read, never been truly engrossed in a book, then I think that they have not truly lived a full life. If they think that literature, that books, that reading is like technology, to be replaced and updated, to become obsolete, then they are more confused than I ever have been or ever will be.
Children, since they have the potential to become Men or Women, are thus required to wear burkas as well. Babies are to be slapped for being born exhibitionist, and then forced into burkas.
I had a dream in which us trash heapers were in a car, and then we stopped at a sign that said "boobs". Imipolex kept staring at the sign, Anonymous User said that the lettering was font Verdana size 19.843516, I went on a rant about the corruption of the word "boobs", Loid started gnawing the base of the sign, Central Avenue said that it was a sign type EJ 898-3LL, Jumping Zombie unscrewed the screws holding the sign to the base, and deathonabun was the only one practical enough to stand in the shade of the sign.
— On Trash Heap shenanigans
YOUR QUOTES ABOUT ME
I'm supposed to be doing some Serious Reading, but I'm not in the mood.
YOU WANT TO DO SERIOUS READING YOU WANT TO YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO YOU CANNOT RESIST YOU MUST YOU HAVE TO NOW DO YOUR SERIOUS READING BECAUSE YOU CANNOT DO OTHERWISE. DO IT. YOUR MOOD IS IRRELEVANT.
Good morrow, members of the fairer sex. Regard your lawful husband before returning attention to my person. Now, if it would please you, double your examination. It is regrettable that we are not a unit, but if your husband were to refrain from employing feminine aromas about his body in favor of venerable herbs and spices, he should masquerade as me even to the nose. Cast your eyes downward, but only for a moment. What is this place. You have set sail alongside the good sir to whose scent your husband must needs aspire. What are you holding? 'Tis nothing, for I, in faith, possess a shell whose contents shall admit you to the gaieties of your heart's desire. Observe: your papers of passage have changed for jewels of purest white! Not even the stars are out of reach when your husband smells of venerable herbs and spices instead of womanly vapors. In conclusion, I am an equestrian.
A Random Serf, proving that he is awesome and eloquent.
