KuReshtin's Vociferously Ruminating Harbinger of Random Banter - #147

[CynicalAvocado]

{scrubbed}

[Phase]

OH GODS ZALGO

HE COMES

Also apparently my parents never thought to tell me that I'm a likely a carrier for a dangerous genetic blood disorder. Thalissemia - ß, here I come!

[Teddy]

Elections day, and I'm off to vote for the first time in my life. I feel like a real contributing member of society now.

[Skeppio]

Vote for me, Teddy! I'd vote for you, man!

[Fifty-Eyed Fred]

Elections day, and I'm off to vote for the first time in my life. I feel like a real contributing member of society now.

The one thing that struck me about mine, back in May, was how ridiculously English my polling station was. The little hall behind the parish church on a nice, sunny day, and I had to walk across the village, through an orchard and pass the church with the vicar wandering around bidding me a good afternoon.

[Lillith]

Elections day, and I'm off to vote for the first time in my life. I feel like a real contributing member of society now.

I hope your place to vote is better then mine. I had to go to the old gym building of my elementary school. Also more then half a year after voting and still no government. Due to the ´non politics thing´ here, check google for recent Dutch elections if you want to know what I´m talking about.

Anyways. voting over here has always been funny cause there´s never a line when I go.

[Form]

Anyways. voting over here has always been funny cause there´s never a line when I go.

Never ran into a line when voting myself either. I guess I always pick a quiet time to vote.

Elections day, and I'm off to vote for the first time in my life. I feel like a real contributing member of society now.

Feel free to cackle madly and shout things about the power being all yours after you've voted. It'll probably be less of a rush next time.

[Thufir]

Elections day, and I'm off to vote for the first time in my life. I feel like a real contributing member of society now.

The one thing that struck me about mine, back in May, was how ridiculously English my polling station was. The little hall behind the parish church on a nice, sunny day, and I had to walk across the village, through an orchard and pass the church with the vicar wandering around bidding me a good afternoon.

22 years old, haven't voted yet...

[AtlanteanTroll]

I hope your place to vote is better then mine. I had to go to the old gym building of my elementary school.

So? People around these part vote in the High School gym.

22 years old, haven't voted yet...

Why?

[Gullara]

I just expirienced my first server backup. It was traumatizing

I also binged on The Guild and watched all 55 episodes that are out so far.

...

I haven't slept in 23 hours.

I'm so tired.

[Skeppio]

I just expirienced my first server backup. It was traumatizing

Pfft wimp. I see those all the time. A minor inconvenience if anything.

I'm so tired.

That might explain it. Go get some sleep.

[Gullara]

Pfft wimp. I see those all the time. A minor inconvenience if anything.

If they occur at the same time all the time then that's at about 3am for me. Explains why I've never seen one before.

That might explain it. Go get some sleep.

I think I'll do that.

[Phaedra]

22 years old, haven't voted yet...

But, but, general election in May! How did you avoid that? Voter apathy makes me sad.

Last May was actually the first time I'd gone to a polling station despite being able to vote for six years. Somehow I'd always had to vote by post before. It was fairly underwhelming when I got there. Not as quaint as Fred's by any means, it was in the middle of a concrete council estate.

[Rawhide]

It is at the absolute most inconvenient time for me. Not only that but it creeps up on me and surprises me every single time... and I set up the darn thing.

[AtlanteanTroll]

It is at the absolute most inconvenient time for me. Not only that but it creeps up on me and surprises me every single time... and I set up the darn thing.

*giggles*

That's funny. Shouldn't you have that, say, marked on your calendar?

[Rae Artemi]

Oh man Rawhide, you made me think of Candlejack, now I'm going to ge

[CurlyKitGirl]

Today has been aggravating for everbody within about three or four hundred yards.
Some nimrod's car alarm has been going off every quarter of an hour for the past three hours. Even more annoyingly, this car alarm consists of the horn beeping steadily for about two minutes.
So far there have been no less than five people screaming into the street to "Turn the [censored] thing off!", nine front doors slammed - around here we have a kind of very mini foyer, so there are two front doors to each house; and most of us tend to leave the outmost front door open all day.
Even worse is that you can still hear this stupid alarm when you're down on the front; truthfully, it's a bit faint, but still.
I bet it's some relative of someone in the street whose gone off sightseeing.

Luveli.

[CynicalAvocado]

Today has been aggravating for everbody within about three or four hundred yards.
Some nimrod's car alarm has been going off every quarter of an hour for the past three hours. Even more annoyingly, this car alarm consists of the horn beeping steadily for about two minutes.
So far there have been no less than five people screaming into the street to "Turn the [censored] thing off!", nine front doors slammed - around here we have a kind of very mini foyer, so there are two front doors to each house; and most of us tend to leave the outmost front door open all day.
Even worse is that you can still hear this stupid alarm when you're down on the front; truthfully, it's a bit faint, but still.
I bet it's some relative of someone in the street whose gone off sightseeing.

Luveli.

crowbar to window, reach under the steering wheel, cut wires, problem solved

i feel your pain though

[Fifty-Eyed Fred]

So, today I stumbled across a Random Story Generator, and upon a whim proceeded to improve, modify and expand the result I got to a considerable degree in content and style. You may be able to tell what is mine and what is the generator's, but I feel I have here a rather nice piece for performance (which is what I intend it for). Spoilered for length (read aloud, it is ten minutes long, which is just about perfect for my requirements).

Spoiler

Show

It all began when our antagonising protagonist, Maurice Chamberlain, woke up in a magical cornfield. It was the sixth time it had happened this month. Feeling exceedingly worried, Chamberlain grabbed a cantankerous old hedgehog and scrubbed his moustache with it, as was his usual practice, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Like a drunken sailor at happy hour, he realised that his beloved pocketwatch was missing! Immediately he called his enemy in training, Apsley Wescot. Chamberlain had known Wescot for half a million years, give or take, the majority of which had been quite simply enchanting. Apsley Wescot was unique. He was ingenious, though sometimes a little insensitive, when he was not wearing shoes, for when he was he was an insensitive of averagely middling height. Maurice Chamberlain called him regardless, for he never had many regards, and the situation was most urgent.

Apsley Wescot picked up the phone to receive the very glad, mellifluous tones of Chamberlain’s voice from the receiver. Wescot calmly assured him that most long-haired sea monkeys shudder before mating, and yet disease-carrying chipmunks usually flamboyantly cringe afterwards. He had no idea what he meant by this; he was only concerned with distracting Chamberlain. The reason behind this was terribly simple, given that he came home from dinner at Chamberlain Manor with the aforementioned pocketwatch secretly stowed in his pocket only five days prior. It was a strikingly delightful little pocketwatch... how could he possibly have resisted?

It didn't take long before Chamberlain got back to the subject in hand: his pocketwatch. Wescot cringed, for the subject was rather in his hand. Reluctantly, Wescot invited him over to Wescot House, assuring him that they would find the pocketwatch. Chamberlain grabbed his land boat and set sail immediately for the train station. After hanging up the phone, Wescot briefly contemplated hanging up himself, for he realised that he was in deep trouble. He had to find a place to hide the pocketwatch and he had to do it skilfully. He judged that if Chamberlain took the 9:37 train, he had at least seven minutes before Chamberlain would arrive. But if he took the Spudmobile, parked conveniently in the train station car park, then Apsley Wescot would assuredly in all surety be surely done for, for sure.

Before he could drum up any reasonable ideas from his mind, or mind any ideal reasonings from his drum, Wescot was interrupted by eleven pestering door-to-door wolves that were lured by the overpoweringly powerful scent of the pocketwatch. Wescot shuddered; 'Not again', he thought, ‘I’ve never wanted to buy any wolf packs, or sign for any wolf packages’. Feeling stunned, he carefully reached for his live hand grenade and fearlessly stroked every last one of them into contentment. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent – the discouraged creatures began to scurry back toward the secret vineyard, squealing with delightful wolfish whimsy. He exhaled with relief. That was when he heard the Spudmobile rolling up the drive – it had evidently lost its wheels, and had somehow become rather spherical. Maurice Chamberlain peeled the door open and stepped out, boiling, into the roasting air, mashing the button on his keys to lock it.

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had been required to make an unscheduled stop at The Salvation Army to pick up a 12-pack of plump hamsters, so he knew he was running late. With a hasty leap, Chamberlain was out of the Spudmobile’s gravity well and went indiscriminately jaunting toward Wescot's front door. Meanwhile inside, Wescot was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the pocketwatch into a box of dull pencils and then slid the box behind his canoe. He was exasperated but at least the pocketwatch was concealed. The doorbell rang, and Wescot’s butler Goldsworth showed Chamberlain in.

'Enter,' Wescot flamboyantly purred. With a smooth push, Goldsworth opened the door and Chamberlain trotted piggishly in. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by a fire-breathing lobster, to whom I owe a great deal of money,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Wescot assured him. Maurice Chamberlain took a seat right next to where Wescot had hidden the pocketwatch, or would have taken it, had Goldsworth not nailed it to the floor that very morning. Wescot sighed, trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Maurice Chamberlain was distracted. Suddenly cheered up by the prospect of seeing the Pirates of Penzance later that evening, Wescot noticed a clueless look on Chamberlain's face. Chamberlain slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

Apsley Wescot felt a stabbing pain in his kidney at this pointed question. In a moment of disbelief, he realised that he had hidden the pocketwatch beside his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. An abrasive look started to form on Maurice Chamberlain's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandmother's precious oil-soaked rags from when she used to have headaches; a problem which, as you remember, her execution swiftly solved. She left them here earlier'. Chamberlain nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Wescot could react, Chamberlain thoughtfully lunged toward the box and opened it. The pocketwatch was plainly in view.

Maurice Chamberlain stared at Apsley Wescot for what must've been five microseconds. Ever so extemporaneously, Wescot groped wildly in Chamberlain's direction, clearly desperate. Chamberlain grabbed the pocketwatch and bolted for the door. It was locked. Wescot let out an electric chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Maurice,' he rebuked. Wescot always had been a little stupid, so Chamberlain knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Wescot started throwing bananas at him. He gave a whistle and his elder brother Rufus abseiled down from an eiderdown taped prudently to the ceiling, holding a harpoon in a rather hooked manner. However, at that very moment the crusty old fire-breathing lobster that had kept the Chamberlains feeling the pinch arrived in a very crabby mood. The pure shelfishness of demanding the money in the midst of a fight scene clawed at Rufus, and he shot the harpoon at him instead, and found himself wreathed in the fiery breath of the foul crustacean in return as they both collapsed to the ground, dead; Rufus slightly after the lobster due to the extra time he had to spend getting there.

All of a sudden Goldsworth rushed in, dual-wielding two machine guns, and guns-blazing, though not in the same sense that Rufus’ corpse was blazing, Maurice Chamberlain was under fire, and with his lightning-quick reflexes, shockingly unleashed the hamsters on him, and threw his scrubbing hedgehog at his face. Goldsworth flailed around the room, and suddenly inspired by the wise teachings of Confucius, Chamberlain gripped his pocketwatch tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels. The bullets ricocheted around the room, and thirteen of them took out each hamster and the hedgehog... and the final bullet made a safe return journey to Goldsworth’s spongy, yet accommodating brain.

Apsley Wescot looked on, blankly. ‘Show-off. The other door was open, you know.' There was silence from Maurice Chamberlain. 'And to think, I had that window frame varnished just nine days ago, and now you’ve gone and killed my butler!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Chamberlain. ‘Are you alright?’ Still silence. Wescot walked over to the window and looked down. Chamberlain had disappeared!

Just yonder, Chamberlain was struggling to make his way through the moor behind Wescot House. He had severely hurt his love handle during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral wolves suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the pocketwatch. One by one they latched on to Maurice Chamberlain. Already weakened from his injury, Chamberlain yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of wolves running off with his pocketwatch, enthralled by the brilliance of its eldritch power.

About eight hours later, Chamberlain awoke, his body throbbing. It was dark and he did not know where he was, for he had only his Ordinance Survey map to guide him. Deep in the mysterious lemur-infested moor, Maurice Chamberlain was exceedingly lost. Like a Frenchman in a frog pond, he remembered that his pocketwatch had been taken by the wolves. But at that point, he was merely thankful for his life, and for the current lack of pointed teeth in the immediate vicinity. That was when, to his horror, an enormous wolf emerged from the foxy forest. It was rather obviously the alpha wolf, with its sharp grin and shiny crown, and it looked ready to give him a royal mauling. Chamberlain opened his mouth to scream like a little girl but was cut short as a toddler when the wolf sunk its teeth into his shin. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Maurice Chamberlain's lungs, but not before he realised that he was a complete and utter failure, and that he had left the Spudmobile back at Wescot House, and the bounder was probably buttered up with happiness at his new vehicle.

Less than six miles away, Apsley Wescot was entombed by anguish over the loss of the pocketwatch. 'Oh wondrous pocketwatch, how I wish to fondle you indiscreetly!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened carrot. With a calculated thrust, he buried it deep into his armpit. As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Maurice Chamberlain... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him. But he would die alone that day. All that remained was the pocketwatch that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on the melancholy sapling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant wolves, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come with the captivating beauty, heady scent and accurate timekeeping of the fabled pocketwatch. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were unfortunately too busy being dead. Thus, no one lived forever after, after all, except of course, the wolves.

The end.

[Quincunx]

crowbar to window, reach under the steering wheel, cut wires, problem solved

i feel your pain though

A few years ago, I lived in an area where some building was broken into over the Christmas holidays. Three weeks. That alarm went unheeded and uninterrupted for three weeks. I can't record here what someone wrote on the offending building, but reading that sharpie-marker scrawl was like balm on my vexed spirit.

[CynicalAvocado]

A few years ago, I lived in an area where some building was broken into over the Christmas holidays. Three weeks. That alarm went unheeded and uninterrupted for three weeks. I can't record here what someone wrote on the offending building, but reading that sharpie-marker scrawl was like balm on my vexed spirit.

balm... is that a good or bad thing?

[Quincunx]

It was good. It was even better than vulgarity snatching away layers of political correctness swaddling an insult. It was better than ten minutes' worth of speech disintegrating in five well-chosen rude words. It was clean.

[CynicalAvocado]

It was good. It was even better than vulgarity snatching away layers of political correctness swaddling an insult. It was better than ten minutes' worth of speech disintegrating in five well-chosen rude words. It was clean.

like a sort of righteous retribution?

[Teddy]

Vote for me, Teddy! I'd vote for you, man!

You were in the elections? Why didn't I know about that?

And thanks, I feel flattered.

The one thing that struck me about mine, back in May, was how ridiculously English my polling station was. The little hall behind the parish church on a nice, sunny day, and I had to walk across the village, through an orchard and pass the church with the vicar wandering around bidding me a good afternoon.

Oh, mine was just in a daycare pretty close to my house. Nothing special, really, but I liked the formal informal air the combination caused.

I hope your place to vote is better then mine. I had to go to the old gym building of my elementary school. Also more then half a year after voting and still no government. Due to the ´non politics thing´ here, check google for recent Dutch elections if you want to know what I´m talking about.

Anyways. voting over here has always been funny cause there´s never a line when I go.

I had a small line, but nothing too long. I also took one voting-paper from each one of the seven established political parties, for each of the three elections - not because I'm especially secretive about my political opinions, but because I could (I still just voted for only one of them, though).

Also, it doesn't look like well get any majority in our new government. I don't want to stray into any political discussion, but this will be interresting...

And, these last two weeks has made me dead tired of public opinion polls. There was a new one every single day.

Feel free to cackle madly and shout things about the power being all yours after you've voted. It'll probably be less of a rush next time.

Oh, I'm feeling a rush of total omnipotent power as we speak. I haz eeht!

[Quincunx]

Just let me know when and where they've tallied and publicized all the wacky write-in votes. I want to see if the Party for Easy-to-peel Oranges got another write-in mention this time 'round. (I have a bet going with myself that whoever wrote it in last time still hasn't graduated and left the university's vote catchment area.) Unfortunately my vocabulary still isn't good enough to figure out what compound word that compilation would be named.

Yes, it's public information. Sweden has an approach to data that's surprisingly. . .open from an American's perspective. Data stripped of any relation to the person who provided it seems to be OK to publicize.

[CurlyKitGirl]

Went troping earlier to find a specific quotation which is eerily relevant to an essay I'm working on, and typically with that site, got distracted.
I'm now watching Beauty and the Beast and will follow it up by The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Who knows, perhaps this time I'll be able to make it through the entire Feast of Fools segment without cringing and running out of the room.

Why oh why did they have to make the Beast's human form so, well, meh?

Either way, I'm off to binge on the Disney Renaissance and enioy kick-butt scores.

[Teddy]

Just let me know when and where they've tallied and publicized all the wacky write-in votes. I want to see if the Party for Easy-to-peel Oranges got another write-in mention this time 'round. (I have a bet going with myself that whoever wrote it in last time still hasn't graduated and left the university's vote catchment area.) Unfortunately my vocabulary still isn't good enough to figure out what compound word that compilation would be named.

"Partiet för lättskalade apelsiner", makes the most sense in a grammatical way. "Lättskalade apelsiner-partiet" could work too. "Lättskalningsapelsinspartiet" too, if we really want to compound it, which we, of course, do, because we love compound words over here. They could theoretically reach an infinite length, depending mostly on your imagination. I love my language

IRN: One aspect of this election makes my filantropy cry. Shame on you, 5,7% of the voting population!

[Thufir]

Why?

But, but, general election in May! How did you avoid that? Voter apathy makes me sad.

Well, this May, having moved out of my parents' house, I wasn't actually sure where the polling station was for Fenham. In general, I know next to nothing about politics and don't feel like making an uninformed vote. Also, yeah OK, apathy.

Why oh why did they have to make the Beast's human form so, well, meh?

It is an opinion I've encountered in many people, that the Beast was much more attractive as a beast than as a human.

ION: I ioined yet another G&S society.

[AtlanteanTroll]

In general, I know next to nothing about politics and don't feel like making an uninformed vote. Also, yeah OK, apathy.

Get informed.

ION:

Accidental pasta dinner at my uncle's was awesome. So much good food. *stomach explodes* Ended up having to cick a cousin in his *cough* though. I swear, he made me do it.

[Thufir]

Get informed.

No. Better things to do with my time.