He seems to be headed for his ideal fate, which is compulsive psychosis dashed with a jigger of psychopathic irresponsibility and violence.
4 months ago
T.: Medium skim latte to go.I think I've come up with a solution (a part 2 to my Theory of Economic Retribution):
Woman: Did you just say a small vanilla latte?
T.: No, that's a medium skim latte.
Woman, reaching for the cup: Oh, that's not what I ordered.
T.: It's probably someone else's, then.[Woman blinks, wondering why she is not served before the line of other people waiting for their espresso beverages. Meanwhile the individual who ordered skim latte rescues it from Ursula's clutches.]
-All customers using our bathrooms without purchasing anything will pay a nominal charge of $2.
-All customers ordering only tap water will pay a nominal charge of $.50.
-All customers wishing to cut the line and have their espresso drink made immediately will pay a variable rate of no less than $1 and no more than $5.
-At no time will said monetary exchanges go near the cash register, as they are all illegal.
Although I'm leaving, the Force will be with you. Always.
Dumbledore being a badass.I'll get off that high horse before I finish saddling it. Because I come against people who question my taste at most times, in various countries worldwide, I no longer know if I can recognize melodrama. Is the scene where Dumbledore casts PK Shitstorm melodramatic or simply BALLIN™?
In which I am pure nerd.
Begone, then, you days of adverb-less statements!No longer can we wait in the shadows of Dali, of Warhol, of Einstein and Eisenhower, of Hitler and Stalin, of Foucault and Sartre, of those who forged the 20th century to what it was – no longer can we honor our forebears at the expense of our desires. May our swinging pendulum strike against the bounds of their aesthetics and shatter their portraits into nothingness.
Begone, tales of ambiguity and brevity!
Begone, sentences without hearts, without souls, without breath!
Let the demands of the Whites and Turabians fade into the past as have the programmes of Dickens and Tolstoy and all the rest!
Let our Style, all ye Post-Modernists, equivocate to the purgative wishes of our philosophies.!
Let awaken the World Ear to sentences of length longer than an iamb, to wishes darker than an economist’s soul, to sounds more frightful than Ginsberg’s howl!
1. Let a customer buy what s/he will. The employee will ring her/him up for the total.It's foolproof!
2. The customer will pay as much as they want of the total.
3. The next person in line's total will be both their predecessor's, and their own.
4. But they will pay as much as they want of the total.
5. Lather, rinse, repeat.
"Happy for hard working Alaskans who get a sunny break tomorrow to celebrate the Fourth of July - be safe, enjoy friends, thank the troops!"Oh, but all you lazy, ungrateful Alaskans & so-called "citizens" of the other 49 states - you best not be having a good Fourth of July.
They roved the wide Sargasso seas
For nary on five hundred years
When other ships were dead, were gone
The Dread Dutch Queen kept sailing on.
And who could tell just what she sought
What treasure of these seas had brought
A pretty girl to sell her soul
Becoming the Dread Pirate Queen?
Her visage terrorized the shipsThey couldn’t find their treasured tomes
That carried all the Nouveau Rich
(Who suddenly were quite distraught
To find their credit cards were hot).
More thousand authors, more than you
Or I could ever know or read).
The Dread Dutch Pirate Queen, she took,
Devoured every single book.
It came to pass that on a ship
A boy, (whose name I must ellipse),
Came to the Dread Dutch Pirate Queen,
Face streaked with tears, hands rat-tatling,
And asked her, voice soprano highThe Dread Dutch Pirate Queen looked down
And clear: “Madame, Dread Pirate Queen,
My Mam told me of your dark tricks.
But why, Madame? What need you fixed?”
“Long, long ago, and far away
My name was Kirsten Platona.
I longed to see beyond the stars
Beyond the moon, further than Mars
Aurora Borealis’ glow
The secret of a flake of snow
And so a priestess sold my soul
Until I can it all behold.”
The boy stood still a time and thought“I’ve feared nothing, and never do;
And then he asked: “Madame, but what
Has kept your voyage all these years?
Why do you read these books? In fear?”
I must write all I’ve seen and smelt
I’ve tasted, touched, and heard about
The love of four-score-six seamen
The scorn of all my victims past
I cannot rest until I’ve writ
Life into one perfect sonnet.
But once I have, and soon it’ll be
I’ll be Death’s wife eternally.”