Baley

Hehehe. You've yet to comment on the whole story, you sneak feline, you! : ( I've amended the story. Well, you can all thank Walsingham for editing it. Cheers.

The US is a secular democracy. I do not support the US government's current political agenda. I am Romanian. You presume too much.

What's with the IQ obsession? One's IQ is hardly interchangeable with one's intelligence. Onur, why are you so enraged with being called a homosexual? The word "gay" has a different internet meaning, popularized by various white nerds, I suppose. Also, note that many of us here hold various non-religious beliefs. I for one am an Atheist. Lovewolf is Agnostic. You're developing a questionable black and white world view.

Subhumans - Us Fish Must Swim Together

I'd have suggested getting some short stories published first. Maybe a novella. Or have you already passed that stage? Am I being too presumptuous? Could you post some excerpts for us? Now, or when you finish the novel, I don't mean to rush you or anything.

Thanks, guys. Duly Noted. You know, I'm a terrible proof reader. The last time I submitted a piece for a literary competition I spent a tremendous amount of energy polishing it. You're right about almost all those things, blame it on my overly-dazed persona or my inherent dislike of semi-colons. Except 7, that was intentional. I preferred writing each event in its own paragraph.

Walkabout - A Short Story I was walking, or running, or trekking, or marching, doing just about everything a man can do to get from point A to point B on two legs. Point A was the small town of Devils Lake, North Dakota, home of Satan, Sioux relocation and a whole lot of water. 79

Read it again. Pay attention this time.

Okay, I got some of it done, now I need your honest critique. Opinions, please. I was walking, or running, or trekking, or marching, doing just about everything a man can do to get from point A to point B on two legs. Point A was the small town of Devils Lake, North Dakota, home of Satan, Sioux rellocation and a whole lot of water. 79

Yeah, I'd really enjoy slaving my life away, 20 hours a day, 120 hours a week, in a state of constant poverty. Could watch some football on the weekend while getting my skull cracked by some random toddler fancying himself a grade A hooligan. Living in the slums. Eating in the slums. Breeding in the slums. You know, as curious as this may be, I think I'd rather do it the legal way. Thank you, Gromnir. That makes for an interesting background detail. Now, all I need to do is find a site detailing ND's weather conditions and\or a more intimate detailing of its history.

I need a more personal perspective. Wikipedia is too soulless.

I suggest you stop being so visibly envious of this fine gentleman's moustache.

They vetoed it.

In two weeks I, and a number of my colleagues, will be meeting the American Ambassador, Nicholas Taubman at his residence in Bucharest. It's an annual escapade, nothing too fancy, we'll have a chat, watch a movie, strengthen Romanian-American relations, blah blah blah. You know the drill. I'm not usually keen on these things, bland upper class parties with bland upper class people talking bland upper class things. "D'you hear about Madam Wilkinson? Her late husband had been ****ing all over town, fathering dozens of bastards, real shame, poor woman." Yeah, not my thing, machinations, innuendos, liars and chumps. Ah, but my future is looking rather bleak, I need more extracurricular activities. Better Grades. Critical Acclaim. Yeah. If things go well, I'll be getting a shiny diploma, which would easily fortify my chances for a scholarship. I need to get out of this country. And fast. Now here's my problem, I'll have to write a short story, the subject? You guessed it. North Dakota. Now, I know this isn't exactly the most interesting place in the world, but someone, somewhere, must have a funny tale to tell. Bout their dimply cousins wasting kittens on the main road, throwing them in public ****houses, smiling or grinning. Bout Aunt Laney Mae and her fabulous adventures on her fabulous ranch. Anything really. Anecdotes, strange places, foods, drinks, famous people, rumours, gossip, politics, murders, the shocking and the foul, the nice and the boring, whatever you fine folks can share. My thanks.

Now, now, Mister Jack, there's nothing wrong with enjoying the voluptuous curves of a finely tuned baroque bootie. It's not like I'm accusing you of possessing such traits. Shh.

I call him Dibbler*. *or dashingly illuminating baroque bootie loving eel raper

O Loveworld! O Loveworld! My emotions for you are not only hastily running amok, but they are blazing in a choleric masterpiece of sentiment and spirit! Viciously desecrating all that is holy! I am your David and you are my Jonathan! I have infiltrated the land of words to instill corruption from the inside, I am taint upon consonants, poison upon vowels, hatred intertwining love fathering genocide. We must wage war, physical brutal and total war against words. Against those who have baptised our children into a world of pain blossomed through mindless obedience to the vast puissance of words. Words are no good. Trust me, son. They use you, they use your money, and you power, and your booze. They never pay for anything. They make you hold doors open for them, with a smile on your face. "Remember the smile! Remember the smile!" Take care of their fat children in their fat flats on their fat pillows. Bunch of ungrateful bitches, them words. Yeah. Take it from me, son, words will only delude you. Their gift is the gift of forgery. Copying our emotions. That's what they do, they steal things, or "borrow". Yeah that's what they call it nowadays. Makes me sick.

I love you too, Loveworld my boy, but you must understand that this is not the way of the Baley, you must understand and accept that. I know it's tough. I too went through it when I was your age all those years ago, the booze, the women, late nights watching 5% discount pornos and beating it off to some junky ho with fake plasticine tits. Validity? Thoughtfulness? These are but mere words. Words build ideas. Ideas build dogmas. Thus to renounce dogmas we must first rid ourselves of words! Break them! Smash them! Show no mercy! No regret! No remorse! This is the way of the Humorous Jack Wolf. Remember that name, Love. Remember it well. For it alone contains humanity's fate. It alone mirrors our hopes, our dreams and our futures. Believe. Do not be deceived. Throw away the booze and live the life you were meant to waste.

Jack was the only one to actually make a valid thoughtful contribution to this thread. Shame.

Listen to this. Now. Brotha Lynch Hung - Liquor Sicc

Ahmad Jamal - Moonlight in Vermont

I have The Cold Vein LP. To be honest, I'm not very happy with the flow. Same goes for people like Sage Francis or Aesop Rock. Great Lyrics. Modest Flow. Organized Konfusion - Walk into the Sun Also, completely and utterly besides the point, Brotha Lynch Hung is by far the siccest (heh) mother****er to ever touch a mike. PS: Soul Asylum? Dude! Duude! Dude! I mean dude! Totally. (Note that I've only listened to maybe three of their songs and have yet to make an actual statement concerning their quality. But this is **** is too hilarious.)

Dude! Soul Asylum! Dude! Like Dude! Duude! Dude. Dude... DJ Green Lantern feat. dead prez, Saigon, Immortal Technique & Just Blaze - Impeach The President

For Jags Metro Free World Cup Fantasy Football This, for all you ignorant meat heads, is the football equivalent of "Hey, baby! Check out my new extra-super-metro ride! Wanna ****?".