Justice4243 expounds on Optimus Prime's true nature:
"Optimus Prime is like a mechanical Jesus that whips out a plasma cannon when "shit gets real" and can transform into a truck, I'm not sure someone can "not care" about him."
Justice4243 explains how the remake of The Wicker Man
came to be:
I think one day someone will step up and admit that the pitch session for The Wicker Man went like this:
“I have an idea for a movie, Nickolas Cage runs around hitting women…and at the end he gets killed by bees…for…wait for it…stealing honey.”
“Steve, that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, EVER! And I green lit Catwoman! You’re so fired that my only regret is that it’s not legal to throw you through this 42nd story window.”
“Wait! What if we say it’s a remake of The Wicker Man?”
“…Do you think Cage will do it?”
“Have you SEEN the man’s pachinko commercials?! We'll offer him a few mil, keep some money for hookers and blow, of course...”
“And that still leaves us a good 1 to 2 thousand dollars for the rest of the movie!”
“Steve, I take it all back. You’re DOUBLE hired!”
How Schrödinger's Cat
came to be:
Schrödinger's cat is an analogy that backfired.
Schrödinger and Einstein: “Quantum mechanics, lol!”
Einstein: “Unexploded while simultaneously exploded gunpowder, lol!”
Schrödinger: “Simultaneously dead while alive cat, lol!”
Quantum mechanics proponents: “OMG! Cats ROXXORS!!! TY Schrödinger!”
Good afternoon gentlemen. Over Ninethousand days in the past, I visited my favorite image repository designated the “Haphazard” room. This is a room where anything can and often does happen! Oh, I was looking forward to a jolly time rubbing elbows with the old-homosexuals (which is what we called ourselves, the name having nothing to do with our sexual orientation), We we’re going to have such fun, getting a rise out the new-homosexuals (again, a mere label, though the conduct of these new-homosexuals did cause me to wonder from time to time). Indeed, we would lead these new-room-goers on and on, taunting them like ancient, bridge dwelling, ogres of lore.
But I digress. Today was the seventh day of the week. A day set aside specifically for finding amusing feline pictures and revealing them for all the Haphazard-mentally slowies (again, an amusing label, though I suspected many of these Haphazard-mentally slowies where, in fact, mentally slow). I dressed myself in my finery, donned my monocle, waxed my mustache expertly, and headed out with my painting of a feline that had substantially more length to it than other felines. I already had the perfect comment to go along with my picture, “Feline of excessive length, does indeed, possess the qualities of excessive length.”
I arrived to the Haphazard room just in time! A well groomed fellow announced “The day of the Jewish Sabbath is upon us! Present your blasted cat photographs and paintings!” The man than presented a painting of a feline with what looked to be a rather human looking smile, the man added “Can I have a piece of ground beef and a bit of cheese?” We all chuckled heartily at the cat’s poor grasp of manners.
As I got in queue to display my piece I noticed a ruckus in another line. I looked over and I was astounded to see what looked like a well-dressed female! I quickly ran over to observe.
“Ankles or Get Thee to a Nunnery!” One man yelled.
“There are no females that inhabit the communication systems! Similar to Spring-Healed Jack, they are but a fic…”Said another, interrupted by his kidnapping.
“This is an obviously ruse set by a cross-dressing male, which is obvious!” countered another.
Then, a woman of substantial girth entered the fray and said, “If you gentlemen can count to 10 in order without accidently saying the same number more than once, I shall show my ankles.”
“My eyes have been dirtied!” exclaimed a voice from the crowd. “I require lye to cleanse them!”
“Egads!” A voice rang out, “Someone present me with a harpoon, that I may slay this whale of a woman!”
“To HELL with your harpoon! Ready a stake and some kindling! Only fire will rid us of this beast!”
As I was witnessing this spectacle I was surprised and SHOCKED to experience the pelvis of another man being thrust against my bottom!
“Unexpected anal intercourse!” He exclaimed loudly. I turned to face my aggressor. Why he was dressed appallingly! He wasn’t even wearing a monocle! Also, I wondered how he could even imagine venturing out with no facial hair! He carried sign proclaiming, “Strumpets do not know of my manhood.”
“A new-homosexual”, I thought to myself. Well this simply would not stand! “Sir! I challenge you to a ‘’comical information transfer duel’’!
The crowd had gathered around us and murmurs where herd, comical information transfer duels where quite a serious business indeed!
“Very well! I accept!, ” the man said. “Is the main who fails so spectacularly here?”
“I am not!” Rang a voice from the crowd, which parted to reveal ‘’Man of spectacular failures’’. “Blast!” “You sir, shall be stand as judge!”
I, too, was to select a judge, ”Is Mr. Willy Muddler here?”
“I’ll muddle your willy!” Was the answer.
“Yes, Mr. Muddler, be a good chap and act as judge will you.”
The crowd talked amongst themselves, it was up to them to pick the final judge. The man who had announced it the day of felines raised his voice and shouted, “We have chosen ‘’Negro of excessive facial expressions’’ as the third judge.”
The judges convened and discussed the rules. Mr. Muddler spoke first, “We shall have a comical exchange made be one participant, followed by a rebuttal by the other, and the two participants shall volley comical exchanges at each other until us judges tell them to stop!”
The man of spectacular failures added, ”Any use of the word “curses” is automatic disqualification.” He stopped for a second, considering the previous statement, dropped to his knees and yelled “Ccccccccccuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrr…”
“You’re NOT PLAYING, man of spectacular failures!”, Negro of excessive facial expressions shouted. His face the very definition of disgust!
Mr. Muddler motioned to me “As the offended you may start.”
I had a comic exchange ready for this tardy interloper. “Why were you so late in arriving? I submit it is because you are slow-idler!”
“I am sorry; I was busing fornicating with my infant sister. Forcing oneself on a newborn is acceptable and enjoyable!”
Oh-ho! The game is a foot, no quarter asked, none given. I see I shall have to trick this one “By Golly, it's a lion, get in the carriage!” “Good heavens!” Man of spectacular failures exclaimed! He dashed for the door, grumpily followed by an incredibly miffed looking Negro of excessive facial expressions who retrieved the naive fool and brought him back.
“Ho-ho, you’ll have to do better than THAT.” He retorted, “Let me offer a confession, Haphazard.” The man produced a rather risqué painting of an attractive, post-pubescent female. “My sister, Kellyn, is depicted in this painting. Yesterday, she left to visit a colleague while our guardians where out on business. I was strolling past my sisters dwelling when I noticed she left a pair of bloomers on the carpet, just resting on the floor by the entryway. These where small form fitting bloomers, just resting on the ground , as if my sister had no regard for decency. I guess she changed outfits before departing. I am unsure why, but I wanted a closer gander. I’ve never enjoyed the company of girls, etcetera… So I picked up the garment, and nervously checked my surroundings. After a time, my urges got the best of me, and thinking about this article of clothing around my sister’s hips… I ended up inhaling the scent of her bloomers while pleasuring myself in that very room. The scent and situation got me so excited, I ejaculated with great force, making a mess of her carpet and other items in her room. Next, I motioned for a carriage and when it approached.
The carriage was identified as ‘renewed’ and it the driver was wearing a jewel incrusted monocle.
I Considered describing this carriage as very unique
But I thought better of it' - 'Onward, good sir, to Boston!”
I pulled up to the mansion about seven or eight in the evening
I thanked the carriage for the ride, “I will experience your scent in the future, sir”
I looked to my domain
I had finally arrived
To sit on my throne as the Duke of Boston.
“By Job! You just won the communication systems!” I exclaimed shooting a small glance to Mr. Muddler, so he would not call the duel just yet.
“Is that a fact?” He asked.
“Yes it IS a fact!” I responded, “A shame, that you have just lost the ACTIVITY OF AMUSEMENT AND MIRTH!”
He stopped and stared at me, a look of utter shock on his face, “It…it has been 2 months since I lost the activity of amusement and mirth…” he murmured, falling to his knees.
Other gentlemen murmured similar confessions; this was a gambit that had great collateral damage.
My opponent looked up to the sky with anger! “Cuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrr….” Knowing he had lost, he dragged out the ‘r’ for as long as his voice would allow.
As uncouth as it was for me to kick a man while he was down, I confess I could not help but add, “Now why don’t you go lose your gramophone and decide to become an person of heroic achievement.”
“God lord!” Mr. Muddler said, approaching me. “I thought he had you there, how did you know that would work.”
“Once I recognized his stale, over told story, like so much duplicated, stale noodles. I knew this new-homosexual was new-room-goer enough to take the activity of amusement and mirth seriously.” I confidently added.” Well! Now that is finished, I shall collect my communication system cre
Greetings once again, my esteemed colleagues.
I last spoke of my resounding victory over the new-homosexual, my report was cut a tad short I as I was interrupted by the notorious J**K of Candles.
After some time in captivity, I freed myself after hallucinating that my parents where deceeeeeeaaaaaased!
Such thoughts filled me anger! And believing that scallywag Jay-oh-Cees to be of a superstitious and cowardly nature, I declare that “I am the God forsaken Man of Bat characteristics!” Throwing my arms wide, I instructed the ruffian “Approach me, brother!”
He did not approach, and I made my escape. I celebrated my victory by purchasing a fine new shirt depicting three animals of the species lupus howling at the moon. Another customer at the tailors attempted to convince me that they were not Canini lupus and assured me that they would never be lupus’s, but many other customers assured me that many attractive ladies would wish to court me while I whore me new finery.
My continued my celebration of freedom by enjoying some delectable milk imported from the Tuscany region of Italy.
I returned to the “Haphazard” room, at first I suspected nothing was amiss. Oh, how mistaken would I be!
At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary as a phrase with a familiar cadence greeted me, “Hello sir, I understand that you enjoy riding horses, so I put a pony in your horse drawn carriage so you can ride a horse while you ride in your carriage.”
“Don’t fall for this tomfoolery, Anonymous sir!” A voice rang out. “He is cleverly trying to sneak the pony obsession onto you!”
“Ponies?” I inquired, “Is this the newest obsession of the telegraphs? I thought the newest crazy of “Houserestrained” was the bees’ knees at the moment.”
“Well, YES, that’s still popular…”
As if on cue, the sound of a man falling repeatedly down steps was heard. “I say, I seem to keep falling down all these stairs!”
“I’m quite sure I warned you about attempting to navigate stairs!”
My cohort cleared his throat, “Small, colorful horses are the latest obsession! And let me tell you, the moderators are in a tizzy! They’re exiling all who bring these creatures into the haphazard room.”
“Certainly this is no stranger then haphazard-mentally slowies spening a great deal of time to the catching off and discussing of Pocket Monsters?” I countered.
“Did someone say Pocket Monsters?” A third haphazard-mentally slowie exclaimed, overhearing my conversation. “Allow me to display my Pocket Monsters to you!”
Before I was shown the gentleman’s team of trained Pocket Monsters (no doubt with such recognizable monsters such as the “Slowest of all creatures” and “The horned king of the sea.” Another haphazard-mentally slowie unveiled a most peculiar creature from under a sheet.
“Behold, gentlemen!” he said after removing several dozen cigars from his mouth, “I present to you ‘silly and confused looking faced hooves!’”
“What…what is this? I don’t even…” I struggled for words, for I had never before seen such a horse! The small thing’s eyes where pointed in different directions from each other, and it had the silliest grin.
Others had a better idea of what was about to happen. Cries of “I hope you do enjoy your exile, ” and, “Do it, you homosexual!” rang out.
With a poof and a flash, a Moderator was on the scene.
“Sir! Are you a warlock?” My dazzeled cohort asked.
“I implore you! Do not exile me, brother! Do not exile me!” begged the gentleman who had brought in the pony.
His pleas fell on deaf ears, with a flash, the moderator had delivered him his papers of exile, the official document detailing his offence with the bright red letters, Person was exiled for this transgression
The moderator seemed displeased, “Fools! All these tiny horses for little girls are sure to attract the Pedophilia loving Ursidae!”
“Did someone say little girls!?”
Indeed, it was too late. The coveter of children was already here! Hungrily eyeing the room for his preferred bed-company, his expression slowly changing from excitement and hunger to frustration.
“Pedophilia loving Ursidae demands and explanation for this homosexuality! This building is littered with tiny horses made to please little females! Yet, not a one is present!”
Quickly I formulated a plan to rid ourselves of this furry miscreant. “Good sir! The little ladies are currently changing into swimming attire in a carriage marked “Celebratory carriage” outside!”
“Ah, thank you kind sir. I shall abscond to the celebratory carriage at once!” Our furry friend did make haste, and ran into the carriage with hungry intent and reckless abandon. “SIR! You have fooled me! There are no little ladies in this carriage at all! It is in fact full of constables! Damn you sir, damn you…”
The shouts where soon drowned out as the cat trained in playing of the piano began his familiar melody.
“Quick thinking! Anonymous sir!” My cohort said, patting me on the back.
“Yes” said the moderator, “however this pony scourge must be monitored! Each gentlemen should do his part to keep or building free of ponies! Are you with me?”
I pondered the question, “It seems I will have to mine and exhume for a great deal of “care” for this matter. Let me see if I have any of this extraordinary substance at the moment.”
And my esteemed colleges? Let me assure you that on that day, not a single “care” was given.
“Haha! The moderators are all asleep at this hour! Gentlemen! Bring forth your ponies! Did you bring a pony Anonymous sir?”
“Neigh, good sir. I’ve discovered a feline that possesses a love of pasta! I’ve brought a portrait of said cat in front of a plate of the stuff! I’m going to paint this feline into other portraits, and make it look like he was present at the events detailed in the portrait. I shall begin with the “Last Supper.”
“A feline eating pasta at the “Last Supper”! Haha, preposterous! Jolly good, sir! My hats off to you, you just earned yourself one internet credit.”
On the way home “Fly into the Danger Zone” started playing on the radio.
Justice: “I’m going to drive the HELL out of this traffic!”
Justice’s Brain: “And the play the HELL out of some all male, semi-nude, greased-up volley ball?
Justice: “Brain, there are some things that are SO gay the loop back around and become straight again.”
Justice’s Brain: “Oh, so if you get enough gay dudes having sex with eachother, eventully it becomes straight porn?”
Justice: “Damnit brain! I can’t argue when I’m laughing so hard.”
I did, in fact, drive the HELL out of some traffic.
The last time someone was left out of the Guess Who fan-fic, there was HELL to pay.
YEAH! IT’S MOTHER FUCKING WRITING TIME! EAT A DICK SWORDS! THESE PENS ARE GOING TO WRITE THE BEJESUS OUT OF SOME PAPER!
Paper? Are you ready? I don’t think you are…how can you POSSIBLY be ready for how mind numbingly WRITTASTIC it is right fucking now!
Sadly, my attempts of putting out the Sun by launching water balloons at it until it goes out have met with nothing but failure and soggy, pissed off neighbors.
I found short term victory in my alter ego, “Tarp Man!”
Sadly, Tarp Man was insufficiently prepared to operate motor vehicles without significant collateral damage
HIV/AIDS isn’t really fun to write about though, because they’re already an Official Couple.
The nanoseconds are shortened milliseconds and the milliseconds are ticking away and when 1000 of them finally come together, it’ll be a second. The accumulated seconds will collect and accumulate and then my alarm clock will shout “Wake up!”…and I’ll hit snooze and whisper “no”.
There are billions of all little view points floating around this big world grasping for an answer. Some say they know, others say they have no idea, others grasp at the different view points, trying desperately to fit them all together until there’s enough of a puzzle they can stand back and say “Ah…I see.”
Too often those people are grabbing pieces until they die, never satisfied, always wondering what’s missing, a new piece often just leaves more ends to be attached and there’s doubt that the puzzle will be complete.
And others? They love their little puzzle, they could not give a damn they they’ll never have all the pieces. In fact, they may hope that the puzzle is never complete. For them, that puzzle is part of what makes life worth living, grabbing pieces and fitting them, just to go and look for more. They know they’ll never finish, but they are just happy with what little they have. They take solace in the fact that their puzzle will always be there for them to work on.
Tonight, I type this on a machine that has energy beamed straight into it and translates binary code into letters for people across the entire planet to read. When I’m done, I’ll hop into my vehicle that is powered by explosions as it propels me at 88 feet per second to a woman who loves me. We will eat dinner, watch, and listen to devices that translates more of that binary code into something we can enjoy. I’ll be surrounded by dense tombs with pieces to my puzzle I haven’t even got to yet, but between everything that’s happened to me today, I should have at least one or two more puzzle pieces to add. I’ll look at my tiny puzzle in the vastness of all that is left to do, smile, and think “Look how big my puzzle has become.”
ryal waited. His “forum top” a mixture of checkmarks and empty spaces next to sub-forums. There were trolls in the fora. He didn't read their posts, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Fasts Eddie were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
ryal was a Troper for fourteen months. When he was young he watched the newsgroups and he said to dad "I want to post on the internets daddy."
Dad said "No! You will BE FLAME BY TROLLS"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the IJBM section of Tv Tropes he knew there were trolls.
"This is Eddie" the PM saided. "You must stop the shit posts!"
So ryal turn on his CAPSLOCK key and started arguing .
"LOL NUWB" said the trolls
"I will insult at him" said the H 4 X 0 R
and called ryal an assburger. ryal posted at him and said he should “And hero”. But then his screen went blank and he was unable to see the web-site
"No! I must argue the trolls" he I Med
The reply was "No, ryal. You are the trolls"
And then ryal made an angry ED page.
- Justice, on ryal's fall from grace.
Cyborg Beluga in the deep red sea,
Swimming through the bodies of your enemies.
Your pilot above, and the targets below,
And a heavily armed whale on the go.
Cyborg beluga, Cyborg beluga, is the blood warm?
Is your body chromed with you, so happy.
Way down yonder where your opponents lay,
Where they scheme and plot all day,
The bullets roll in and the empty shells roll out,
See the fire squirting out of your spout.
Cyborg beluga, Cyborg beluga, fire your rifles,
Fire on all your foes who stand against you.
When it's dark, you enemies feel dread,
Fearful of the sees of red.
The fires are shining and the their lives snuffed out,
Good night, cyber whale, goodnight.
Cyborg beluga, Cyborg Beluga, with tomorrow's sun,
Another war’s begun, you'll soon be killing.
Cyborg Beluga in the deep red sea,
Swimming through the bodies of your enemies.
Your pilot above, and the targets below,
And a heavily armed whale on the go.
Ecologist: "Die monster! You don't belong on this island!"
Vampire Finch: "It was not by my hand that I was given flesh. I was created by evolution, which determined that my unique traits were to be given preference over time."
Ecologist: "Unique traits? You steal other living creature’s fluids, and use them to nourish yourself!"
Vampire Finch: "Perhaps the same could be said of all living creatures."
Ecologist: "Your words are as empty as your usefulness to the ecosystem! The Galápagos ill-needs a species such as you!"
Vampire Finch: "What is the Galápagos? A miserable little pile of Islands! But enough talk... have at you!"
They keep you from shopping at the hot topic to much and give you some minor allergic reactions to massive amounts of mascara.
They're from the same people who make anti-hipster pills.
Lucky came down with a bad case of Hipster and we had to trick him into thinking the pills were from the 30s.
- Justice prescribes some emo pills.
Dick Acne sounds like someone who solved a lot of crime mysteries in the 40s.
If my right hand was a penis and my left hand was a vagina I'd be pretty set in life.
Granted, I doubt I'd lead what many would call a "useful existence."
HEY JUSTICE I HEARD YOU WERE TUBESPHERING ON THE BLAGOBLAG