[Coco with marshmallows]

Overheard in Glasgow:

"I wouldn't even stick the boot in her"

[Gothos]

This one fits the "Awesome" category... at least the event does.

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We’re piecing together hundreds of photos from the amazing photobomb-fest that was theCHIVE’s Chicago meetup, we’ll have those for you in the next couple days.
We did meet one Chiver at the meetup, Geoff, who had been saving a story about Bill Murray for us.

It all happened over Memorial Day weekend in Wrigleyville. Geoff (pictured back right) and his buddies were at crawfish boil at Toons, a NOLA-style Jazz bar near Wrigley field that hosts an annual Memorial day crawfish boil, when Geoff noticed Bill Murray walking past the bar. Geoff went to the front porch with his buddies and mustered the courage to yell out, “Bill, come to the crawfish boil! They’ve got Abita Strawberry!!!’

*Abita Strawberry is Abita’s limited harvest beer produced annually in small quantities and it’s not easy to find. Toons serves it only once a year.

Bill continued walking toward Wrigley Field but the comedy icon slowly raised his right hand and gave the guys a thumbs up. “We all went nuts! Just a thumbs up from Bill F*cking Murray was enough for us,” Geoff exclaimed.

Then about a half hour into the game, it started raining. The Cubs game was delayed. Shortly thereafter, Bill Murray walked into the bar. For a hot second, the whole place fell silent. Then Bill Murray said, “Anybody got one of those Strawberry Abitas?” A dozen people scrambled to get the legend a drink.

The next few hours were amazing. Geoff said Bill was as awesome as you’d hope he’d be. Bill drank with Geoff and his friends all day. “Bill was playing games of Golden Tee with anybody who wanted to take him on. He’s really good. (Bill) stayed all afternoon. When he left, Bill remembered everybody’s names and took the time to thank everyone for the beer and the crawfish. And, like that, he was gone.”

[Gothos]

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In modern society, individuals are alienated in so far as their common human essence, the actual co-operative activity which naturally unites them, is power-less in their lives, which are subject to an inhuman power—created by them, but separating and dominating them instead of being subject to their united will. This is the power of the market, which is ‘free’ only in the sense that it is beyond the control of its human creators, enslaving them by separating them from one another, from their activity, and from its products.

(...)

Fundamentally, to be alienated is to be separated from one's own essence or nature; it is to be forced to lead a life in which that nature has no opportunity to be fulfilled or actualized. In this way, the experience of ‘alienation’ involves a sense of a lack of self-worth and an absence of meaning in one's life.

This post has been edited by Gothos: 30 August 2011 - 09:06 AM

[Aptorian]

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The Soldier Stood And Faced God

The soldier stood and faced God, Which must always come to pass. He hoped his shoes were shining, just as brightly as his brass.

“Step forward now, you soldier, how shall I deal with you? Have you always turned the other cheek? To My Church have you been true?”

The soldier squared his shoulders and said, “No, Lord, I guess I hain't, because those of us who carry guns, Can’t always be a saint.

I’ve had to work most Sundays, and at times my talk was tough. And sometimes I’ve been violent, because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny, that wasn’t mine to keep…

Though I worked a lot of overtime, when the bills got just too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear. And sometimes, God, forgive me, I’ve wept unmanly tears.

I know I don’t deserve a place, among the people here.

They never wanted me around, except to calm their fears.

If you’ve a place for me here, Lord, It needn’t be so grand. I never expected or had too much, but if you don’t, I’ll understand.”

There was a silence all around the throne, where the saints had often trod. As the soldier waited quietly for the judgment of his God.

“Step forward now, you soldier, you've borne your burdens well. Walk peacefully on Heaven’s streets; you've done your time in Hell.”

~Author Unknown~

[MTS]

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dantose: Do u get a trophy 4 it????
rocker576: It occurs to me that typing "u" instead of "you" and "4" instead of "for" saved you 4 (not "for") keystrokes. Typing "????" instead of "?" used 3 keystrokes plus the use of the shift button for a total of 4 keystrokes. Thus, you have saved no effort whatsoever by kicking the English language.

[Shiara]

A friend just emailed this around.

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Craiglist classifieds - looking for a room

Konichiwa bitches. Are you looking for the most kick-ass fucking roommate that ever lived? If so, look no further. You fucking found him. I'm a 25-year-old professional marketing agent with experience at bad-ass companies in New York Fucking City. That's right! What you know about experience? I graduated from Auburn University in Alabama, and moved to NYC at the ripe, tender age of 22. After deciding that New York was a stinky shit-hole, I moved back to Alabama to cultivate more professional experience. Why? So I can make millions of dollars and not have to post shit like this on Craigslist.

Anyway, so I landed this job with a marketing firm in San Francisco, and I have no fucking clue where to live. Honestly, I'm moving there in 3 weeks, so I don't give a shit if I have to sleep in your bathtub.

A bit about me: I'm respectful, quiet, clean and I won't bother any of your shit. If you leave shit out, I'm just like, "Oh fuck I better not mess with this shit, because it's not mine." I turn off lights. I clean toilets. Fuck it. I'll even cook for you. That's right! My dad is a chef and taught me everything there is to know about cooking southern cajun cuisine. I'll fry green tomatoes, cover them with marinated crab meat and smother that shit in bearnaise. EVERY. GODDAMN. NIGHT. Don't eat meat? That's fucking FANTASTIC! I'll make a zucchini and yellow squash carpaccio that will knock your fucking socks off.

I also read a lot. I fucking LOVE books. Vonnegut, Palahniuk, Hawthorne. All that shit. I read Tuesdays with Morrie the other day. It's a sad story, but I learned something about life, love, knowledge and the pursuit of something greater than myself. Fucking smart. Do you like movies? I fucking love them. We can watch the shit out of some movies together if you like, or go get drinks, or work out, hike, play video games or play a game of one-on-one basketball, or I don't have to talk to you at all. It's completely UP TO YOU!

Sometimes I play guitar. Are you going to love getting baked and listening to Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd? LIVE? WHENEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT? Of course you are! I'll take requests and learn any song you like, because I have the voice of an angel and the acoustical stylings of James Fucking Taylor. AWWWWWW SHIT YEA!

A lot of people ask me, "Hey, you're from Alabama. Are you racist?" And, the answer to that question is, no. I'm not racist or judgmental at all. I love everyone. I'm a secular humanist. I FUCKING LOVE PEOPLE. That's the only requirement to being a secular humanist actually. You have to like other human beings and want to help them for no other reason than they are human regardless of race, religion or sexual preference. WTF?!!!? Pretty fucking cool right?

I own almost nothing! I'm driving my car from Alabama to California in which I'll be transporting two duffelbags of clothes, one laptop computer, one guitar, one cell-phone with charger, 8 pairs of shoes, one picture frame, probably some condoms and a shitload of beef jerky and Pringles for the trip. Though, you can expect the jerky to be gone upon my arrival. Unless you'd like me to pick up some on my way into the city. See?! I'm the most considerate person you've ever met. I'm offering to buy you shit already!

Am I interested in your pad? You can bet my nomadic ass I am! I only require 4 walls, a ceiling and a floor to shelter me from the elements. Other than that, anything else will be considered a convenient plus. I'm taking being a roommate to the next level. Email me! I'll hook yo ass up with Facebook links, background checks, credit reports, phone numbers, resumes, references, awards, sexual history, pictures of karate trophies and a list of the top 10 women I'd like to bang before I die. If you want a next-generation roommate who consistently blows your fucking mind with awesomeness, then hit me up. I'm ready to give you money.

PostingID: 2549849730

[Ain't_It_Just_]

"What a fucking paradox, a bitch you can't slap!" -Bro Team Pill

[JLV]

Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes — men who despise you — enslave you — who regiment your lives — tell you what to do — what to think or what to feel! Who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men — machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate! Only the unloved hate — the unloved and the unnatural!

[Beezulbubba]

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YES GODDAMN IT YES!
THAT IS WHY I DID IT!
I NEVER THOUGHT! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
THAT'S RIGHT!
WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? I AM!
DAMNIT RIGHT!

[worry]

It is hard to have patience with people who say, ‘There is no death’ or ‘Death doesn’t matter.’ There is death. And whatever is, matters. And whatever happens has consequences, and it and they are irrevocable and irreversible. You might as well say that birth doesn’t matter. I look up at the night sky. Is anything more certain than that in all those vast times and spaces, if I were allowed to search them, I should nowhere find her face, her voice, her touch? She died. She is dead. Is the word so difficult to learn?
C.S. Lewis

[JLV]

"There's goin ta be a giggle induced fatality"

-Mott

Better in accent.

[Ain't_It_Just_]

"Decide to be fine til the end of the week. Make yourself smile because you’re alive and that’s your job. And do it again the next week… I call it being professional. Do it right. With a smile. or don’t do it.”- Frank Devereaux, Supernatural

[Beezulbubba]

"Talent sets the floor, character sets the ceiling." - Eric Mangini

[Aptorian]

http://www.wakkipedi...0VVVUSTw.reddit

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On 18 March 1990, George HW Bush banned broccoli from being served on Air Force One, saying:
"I do not like broccoli and I haven't liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And I'm President of the United States and I'm not going to eat any more broccoli"
(George HW Bush, 41st President of the United States)

When challenged at a later news conference about the statement effect this had had on broccoli sales, and the fact that enraged broccoli farmers were sending 20,000 pounds of their produce to Washington, the President added:
"Now look, this is the last statement I'm going to have on broccoli.
There are truckloads of broccoli at this very minute descending on Washington.
My family is divided.
For the broccoli vote out there: Barbara loves broccoli.
She has tried to make me eat it.
She eats it all the time herself. So she can go out and meet the caravan of broccoli that's coming in."

In September, 1990 when Bush arrived on Air Force one for the initial inspection of the brand new plane, there was a sign posted in the galley showing a bunch of broccoli with a slash through it and a note underneath it saying 'broccoli free zone'.

This post has been edited by Aptorius: 18 May 2012 - 05:29 AM

[Shinrei]

Grumble, on 01 June 2011 - 06:04 PM, said:

Dear Mr. Cameron,
Please find below our suggestion for fixing England's economy.

Instead of giving billions of pounds to banks that will squander the money on lavish parties and unearned bonuses, use the following plan..
You can call it the Patriotic Retirement Plan:

There are about 10 million people over 50 in the work force.
Pay them £1 million each severance for early retirement with the following stipulations:
1) They MUST retire.
Ten million job openings - unemployment fixed
2) They MUST buy a new British car.
Ten million cars ordered - Car Industry fixed
3) They MUST either buy a house or pay off their mortgage -
Housing Crisis fixed
4) They MUST send their kids to school/college/university -
Crime rate fixed
5) They MUST buy £100 WORTH of alcohol/tobacco a week ......
and there's your money back in duty/tax etc
6) Instead of stuffing around with the carbon emissions trading scheme that makes us pay for the major polluters, tell the greedy b*stards to reduce their pollution emissions by 75% within 5 years or we shut them down.
It can't get any easier than that!
P.S. If more money is needed, have all members of parliament pay back their falsely claimed expenses and second home allowances
If you think this would work, please forward to everyone you know.
If not, please disregard.
Grumpies of the World Unite

No offense, but these are all dumb ideas..., except for the P.S. part.

This post has been edited by Shinrei: 19 May 2012 - 08:59 AM

[Aptorian]

From a thread about "Fan theories"

Quote

Inglourious Basterds spoiler below.

It's well known that all of Tarantino's films take place in the same universe - this is established by the fact that Mr. Blonde and Vince Vega are brothers, everybody smokes Red Apple cigarettes, Mr. White worked with Alabama from True Romance, etc.

As it turns out, Donny Donowitz, 'The Bear Jew', is the father of movie producer Lee Donowitz from True Romance - which means that, in Tarantino's universe, everybody grew up learning about how a bunch of commando Jews machine gunned Hitler to death in a burning movie theater, as opposed to quietly killing himself in a bunker.

Because World War 2 ended in a movie theater, everybody lends greater significance to pop culture, hence why seemingly everybody has Abed-level knowledge of movies and TV. Likewise, because America won World War 2 in one concentrated act of hyperviolent slaughter, Americans as a whole are more desensitized to that sort of thing. Hence why Butch is unfazed by killing two people, Mr. White and Mr. Pink take a pragmatic approach to killing in their line of work, Esmerelda the cab driver is obsessed with death, etc.

You can extrapolate this further when you realize that Tarantino's movies are technically two universes - he's gone on record as saying that Kill Bill and From Dusk 'Til Dawn take place in a 'movie movie universe'; that is, they're movies that characters from the Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, True Romance, and Death Proof universe would go to see in theaters. (Kill Bill, after all, is basically Fox Force Five, right on down to Mia Wallace playing the title role.)

What immediately springs to mind about Kill Bill and From Dusk 'Til Dawn? That they're crazy violent, even by Tarantino standards. These are the movies produced in a world where America's crowning victory was locking a bunch of people in a movie theater and blowing it to bits - and keep in mind, Lee Donowitz, son of one of the people on the suicide mission to kill Hitler, is a very successful movie producer.

Basically, it turns every Tarantino movie into alternate reality sci fi. I love it so hard.

[Aptorian]

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A day before his 15th birthday, the son of a wealthy family was asked by his father, `Well my son, what would you like for your birthday?'

The son hesitated a moment and his father's thoughts leapt ahead to a new computer and similar things. However, his son had had a new computer only recently and could have a new one any time he wished.

Finally, the son said, `Father, I have everything a boy could wish for, but there is one thing I would really like. I would love to have a pink ping pong ball.'

The father was rather astonished at this wish, but said, `If it is a pink ping pong ball that you want, a pink ping pong ball you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his bithday present a pink ping pong ball.

The boy took the ball to his room and the next morning the pink ping pong ball was gone. The father was mildly surprised but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong ball, however, was never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 16th birthday, the father asked his son what he would like for his birthday.

Father,' replied the son,I have everything a boy could possibly wish for, but there is one thing I would really, really like. I would love to have a tenpack of pink ping pong balls.'

The father was more surprised than the year before, but kept his curiosity at bay, for he knew that his son had a right for privacy. he said therefore, `If it is a tenpack of pink ping pong balls that you want, a tenpack of pink ping pong balls you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his birthday present a tenpack of pink ping pong balls.

The boy took the tenpack of balls to his room and the next morning, not a single ball remained, merely the empty husk of the tenpack. The father wondered where ten pink ping pong balls might disappear to, but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong balls, however, were never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 17th birthday, the son was asked by his father what he would like for his birthday.

Father,' said the son to this,I have everything a boy could wish for, but one thing would make my happiness complete. I would dearly want a carton of pink ping pong balls.'

The father was beyond surprise, but decided to make sure he had not misheard. `A carton of pink ping pong balls?'

`A carton of pink ping pong balls,' the boy confirmed.

I can't understand your fascination with pink ping pong balls,' said the father,but if it is a carton of pink ping pong balls that you want, it is a carton of pink ping pong balls that you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the boy was given as his birthday present a carton of pink ping pong balls.

The boy was delighted and took the carton to his room. The next day, miraculously (as if by magic, even) the pink ping pong balls had all disappeared.

Dear son,' said the father,I must ask now, what do you do with all those pink ping pong balls?'

The son, however, was reluctant to tell him. `Please humour me, dear father.'

The carton of pink ping pong balls, however, was never seen again.

The next year, it was clear that the son would get a car, but the father felt that, perhaps, his son also had some other wish apart from the obvious. So, one day before the son's 18th birthday, the father asked him whether he had a special wish for his birthday.

Dearest father,' the son started,I have everything a young man could possibly want, but there is one craving in me. I would, more than anything, want a warehouse full of pink ping pong balls.'

One of these years, his father thought, I should get to the bottom of this. However, he decided to humour his son's wish. At least he had been wise enough to buy shares in a pink ping pong ball factory.

The next day, the son was given the address of a warehouse where all his new pink ping pong balls were stored. The son was delighted and decided to spend the next night in the warehouse rather than at home.

The following morning, the son stepped out of the warehouse, but it seemed to be empty otherwise. The father had a closer look and indeed, apart from empty cardboard boxes, nothing was left inside the warehouse. No pink ping pong balls were left.

The following year, one day before the son's 19th birthday, the father braced himself for another warehouse of pink ping pong balls. He asked his son what his deepest desire was and he had not been entirely wrong.

`Father, you have made me very happy these last years and this year I ask of you a shipload of pink ping pong balls if at all possible.'

It was possible, if only because the father had by now bought each and every factory of pink ping pong balls in the country.

The next day, the father took his son to the harbour and showed him a huge tanker and told his son that there were millions, billions, trillions of pink ping pong balls in there.

Father,' the son said,You've made me very happy yet again.'

That night, the son spent on board the tanker.

The next morning, not a single of the pink ping pong balls could be found, but the son was happy.

A few days before his 20th birthday, however, the son had a terrible road accident and was taken to the hospital.

His father visited the young man in hospital. `My dear son! Can I bring you anything to make you feel better?'

Weakly, the son sat up in bed. `Father, dearest father, grant me this wish; just one tenpack of pink ping pong balls.'

The father held his son's hand tightly. `Whatever you wish my son, but I have to give you one condition. Even if it may be embarrassing, I must know what you did with all those pink ping pong balls.'

`Very well, father, but please indulge me first. I will tell you whatever you wish to know after you have given me the ten pink ping pong balls.'

The father thought that was fair enough and the next day brought his son the ten asked for pink ping pong balls. The son smiled weakly but seemed too weak to talk.

`Son, I leave these pink ping pong balls with you and shall come back tomorrow to ask of you what you have done with all those pink ping pong balls.'

The son nodded weakly.

The next day, less than surprisingly, no pink ping pong balls could be found in the son's hospital room.

`Now, my dearest son, apple of my eye, treasure of my life, please tell me what you did with all those pink ping pong balls,' the father requested.

The son nodded and the father gripped his hand tighter.

`I-' the son started and sat up a bit, swallowing with a dry mouth.

`I- I-'

Then he died.

[Adjutant Stormy~]

That was terrible and you should feel bad.

[worry]

Is there a way to kill people through the internet?

[Sinisdar Toste]

I knew that fuckr would croak! It was either that or an unholy assplosion of ping pong balls