4 = 2 = 1

Somewhere in a Very Hospitable House for the (Very) Old Gamers named... playfully Archaic Sandbox


- Old_Geezer_Wooster (he's in his mid 80's, minus one eye, wearing an eye-patch): God bless those good people over there at the whatchacallit, so very nice of them not to... (thinking: now what was the word my grandson used, I think it's) nerf the youknowwhat...

- Jeeves_Old_Boy (he's like 80, missing an arm and a leg, replaced by hook & peg-leg): Yeah, ye got that right old-timer, especially bless that... whatshisname guy, he's so damned shrewd and charismatic, devil of a man he is...

- Garry_Old_Man (he's 90+, hard of hearing and a bit forgetful): Who? The one involved in the fiasco with the Geezard - Blurred Vision & Co?

- Old_Geezer_Wooster: No, you old fool, that one's not the one! Besides calling that feller charismatic, wouldn't that be an oxymoron...

- Garry_Old_Man: What? Yer calling me a moron, why you sunuva...

- Old_Geezer_Wooster: No, it's a figure of speech you decrepit fossil, the one yer talkin' about disappeared long time ago, he must've crawled under some rock or something... Bah, why do I even bother, just go back to sleep will ya?

- Jeeves_Old_Boy: I mean that fella who talks funny, you know, faster than his own shadow?

- Old_Geezer_Wooster: Aye that's the one, he's a king I tell ya, king Solomon himself incarnate, may his rule last a thousand years!

- Jeeves_Old_Boy: Such a nice gesture on their behalf, to let us old mature people be able to have a little bit of fun, almost thought we were screwd for good this time.

- Old_Geezer_Wooster: So, are you boys up for a session?

- Jeeves_Old_Boy: Sure thing buddy, what about you old fool?

- Garry_Old_Man: Yeah I'm cool, I'm streaming later this evening (he falls asleep)...

"

Nizhidrhamannit wrote:

I just hate math and numbers, but I love names and letters,

That much was clear. For me it is the reverse. Our brains are clearly wired differently. Also it is thanks to the great mathematicians that our society is so advanced as it is now (not because of writers).

Did writers invent the wheel?
Did writers harness the power of electricity?
Did writers develop the transistor?

Is mathematics a greek... word?

Did the greeks use letters of the alphabet in their mathematics?

Is greek a language with pure mathematical structure?

Oy!

I am the kNight who says Ni, I am the Keeper of the sacred word NiPeng and NeeeWom and I demand a sacrifice. I will say Ni again unless you apease me. I want a... shrubbery, one that looks nice, and not so expensive.

And those were the goats who say Ni, that's why they went after the shrubberies. That looked nice. And not so expensive.

The best things in life are free but you can give 'em to the birds and bees...

Oh, and don't forget groove is in the heart.

EDVARDVS I MALLEVS SCOTORVM



@Reinhart

Don't get me wrong friend, when I said I hate math and numbers I didn't mean it literally, let me make an example: If I say I think Smaug's voice in the film Hobbit is quite impressive what do you make of that? Obviously what I'm trying to convey is that I think Benedict Cumberbatch's voice is the one that I find impressive no? I mean since Smaug is Benedict Cumberbatch, at least his voice is. You could possibly argue that digital distortion n all that hi tech crap comes into play, but nevertheless you can see what I'm trying to say here, hopefully --and I'm only saying this because maybe my analogy might seem a bit confusing.

In any case what I said about math was not meant to be taken de dicto, of course I don't hate math, I prefer names and letters regardless, but why would I hate poor numbers, I'd rather enjoy them in a more... theoretical level. After all Greeks built theaters, academies and gymnasiums, Romans on the other hand, they were the practical ones, they built aqueducts and colloseums, paved roads still serviceable to this day, that went from the far reaches of the empire all the way to... Rome, hence the saying about all roads leading to the Eternal City n all that.





Edit: A higher state of consciousness.

david lynch talks about how he doesnt like knowing what a film is about before he goes to see it. that actually he would prefer to walk into the theater without knowing what the film is about or even what its name is, no front loaded titles, just go into the film and discover what u feel it was about as it unfolds.


i think thats great, i agree with him. we just cant do that, the medium isnt presented to us in that fashion. i wish someone else with my tastes could populate my netflix watchlist and all it told me was how long each piece was, then i could just press play and see what happens.

when ur given something as small as even a title ur brain starts to work out everything, the intention, the tone, the generic tropes one would expect from that title. horror is the hardest hit because a lot of horror films if u didnt go in knowing it was horror might seem like a crime drama or a family film at first and then as it turned on you it would be great. instead uve sort of second guessed it all already simply by having searched on netflix for horror and picking a film with some corny horror name.


i dont watch trailers for anything in the world of film, or tv, i dont read reviews, i dont read the synopsis paragraph in the listings, same for books, i do everything i can do know as little as possible about what its all about but unfortunately the titles alone are enough to kill any sense of mystery about whats gonna happen in a lot of cases, just the title and the cover essentially spoilers everything thats about to happen. expectations suck.

It's not that expectations suck in general, it's the fact that the expectations we tend to anticipate (mainly of other people) are usually... great expectations, and more often than not they fail to be fulfilled, or so it seems. Having expectations is human nature, that goes without question; having great expectations on the other hand is a bit selfish, I think, especially when one keeps jumping to conclusions about things one has scant knowledge of, moreover if on the other side there are no such expectations or prerequisites at all, only good will.

Like an unlikely hero in a fictional story used to say "don't be hasty", that's what I keep repeating to myself, something we disregard easily today, might prove to be worthy of our time if we dig a little deeper. There are no uninteresting things, only uninterested people.

What I can easily disregard is buffoons with big heads like balloons, full of hot air and not much else.

The Doppleganger (doubled back on his promise) of the Ppromised Land

The hasty Red Herring hastily hastened its pace to ketch-up catch up with the ever elusive grizzled, greedy, greasy snowball; Now, don't get snotty the herring cried, but the snarky little albino snail spread its wings (Sub Umbra Alarum Tuarum), and dived into the marmalade ocean, only to smash its head upon the rock. The Rock. THE ROCK won't budge an inch though. Nine-inch sNAiL crawl all the way back to your rathole, you hear? There goes the Rolling Stone floating shamelessly towards the shore of Nevermore, littered with lotsa flotsam, and a litter of sneaky little mongrels that slyly slant their lonely eye to sea, or not to sea, this is the answer to the question: Do You Confess? Beetle of The Beatles PLEASE PLEASE ME (Oh Yeah!) LIKE I PLEASE YOU, that you alone shall bear the mark of my teeth upon your emerald skin.

Bloody Pirate Cap'n Johnny Rotten whistled merrily, he could carry a tune, a tuna fish, he smelled of fish, and something rotten. A car-toon, not any toon as Bloody Mary nodded; she cracked a half smile, she half cracked a smile, while he just stood there missing an arm and a leg, missing half a body, bloated rotten carcass of a man, an undead abomination, but not quite dead, yet. Still, wearing a toothless grin, he could laugh at the abominable faceless Dr. Phibes, the abominable snowman who melted away, it's my way he yelled at him, my way or the highway as he disapeared into nothingness.

You know my cousin Vinny, he approached the bench the other day, as the ceiling flew away: Your Honor —he said— the Slayer of Fate awoke before dawn, he donned his armor, the armor of faith and good will. He was a happy man, but a terrible liar, a happy serial killer if you will, but still a cold blooded murderer of innocent flowers. Sowing the seeds of love, that's a labor of love, and the fruit of the loom looms eerily above us all. The Slayer marched with the riders of the storm, he looked me in the eye, let my people go, you won't find sanctuary here, seek it Elseweyr, there's only Oblivion here for the sick. That, and sweet suffering.

Who appointed you Executioner? Oh, it's nothing, it's just my left foot banging on a drum, for the sinners and the saints, alike. They don't like each other, that doesn't necessarily make them enemies. One thing I can tell you, they're not best friends. But they all die the same. They die all the same.

Open the portal to the whorly grave, and cower before the sunrise. Curse you, curse you and your master, said Sid to Nancy, I love you with a knife; and then she made her Vicious move to move a mountain, not just any mountain, The Mountain. And the old man of the mountain, ever watchful from his lonely wooden tower watched Suzanne and worshipped her in secret. He kissed the ground she stepped upon. PORTA CLAUSA he wispered in the dead of night; but Suzanne, she's half crazy, riding the wyvern of the mist vanishes into thin air, thicker than the thicket of the myst, the lair of the manticore and the chimera, magic beasts of mystery and yesteryear. One flew over the cuckoo's nest, and perched upon her shoulder, it built its nest there, and settled down to live the quiet life of the deep. There's no life in the void. I. See. You.

It's getting late, my thumb hurts, I wish I had a glass of red red wine, made of tears, the tears of my wrath. My wrath will be swift and terrible, Flame of Vodoun, the voodoo people; I got the poison, I got the remedy. Fuck that mate, I think I made a mistake. I mistook. Nawh, make that two mistakes. I too mistook twice —once— I think. Mister Co-Bane of the brainless dead, doggy dog of liberty, barking up the wrong train; all aboard the board of directors.

The Slayer of Fate walked on down the hall, he came to a door, and he looked inside. He crossed the line, entered into the Twilight Zone, passed to the other side. The sign warned him: Proceed At Thy Own Risk, he should've known better. It's bait, Norman Bates, but I won't byte, I give you two digits, 0 and 1 double-o-seven, and a middle finger. Jack the Ripper waved goodbye to Moonshine and planted the magic beans deep into the Wet Wet Wet soil. Carelessly he whispered, he thought he felt the wind in the willows: No, the gallows await me (him), I care Not. And before long he soiled himself carefully not to soil himself (too much). Kiss this Hand or Talk to the Frog, I care Not. A rabbit egress is in order, a tool out of order, get back in the line fool; the quick brown fox, a foxy lady in distress, an untouched vixen, a banshee touched by bad mojo hexed me. She sank her inky pinkies into the swamp, a nasty bog, so nasty that it's mind boggling —I tell you— she twitched and drew a symbol. You got some nerve missy, it's gonna be messy to stand in my path, you know. No, I got a fully functional nervous system she shouted. So that's why she twitched, she has my axe embedded into her nervous system, but the seven dwarves couldn't wake her up, no matter what they tried, it vexes me but I don't mind, mind the bollocks.

Alt, your account deleted? What the hell happened mate? This forum is going the wrong way, like the whole world I guess.

R.I.P. Altnahara

Bummer, no more fun music, picture or word games i guess.

Peace,

-Boem-