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WATMM funny quotes thread

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simulcats

 

10/10

 

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i spoke to him recently and he said he was about to release something on rephlex.

 

for real??

photo-3732.png?_r=1375544610

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what if he started doing lots of coke and went around referring to himself in 3rd person as 'The Aphex Twin'

 

the aphex twin says spread those legs baybee!

 

the aphex twin says make me some eggy toast!

 

the aphex twin don't like the way you're lookin at him, buddy!

 

somethin on your mind, pal? this aphex twin would like ta know.

 

what if he released his own clothing line and called it 'aphex slim'

 

(i bet he's somewhere picking his nose, right now)

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Quote

 

MisterE

 

i'll pee all over tha place bitches!

Edited by MadameChaos

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I got nothing. I just wanted to read and share the result of the This Is Story thread again:

the result of the this is story thread (with some minor edits)


 

 

Chapter One: I begin:



Watmm was very sad and depressed because three words hurt their feelings. Now watmm will be without tits or asses forever because JR can't appreciate them titties. "New rules, cunts!". Because tits are jr's nagging phobia and give him nightmares of being stuck in a giant titty.

There is not story or is there? Yep, there is. It goes like this...

In a world where sweaty balls drift up stream there r bitches everywhere, three tittied women dream about being pleased all day by the very best vanilla ice cream who kill for beans, spleens, and cocks - they suck feverishly, ferociously, unabashedly at the teat In the heat on the beat and then everyone died. Corpses, then fucked up beats and innocence, viciously martyred as was prophecied by The Elder Scrolls. The Argonian scrotum wrinkle gazette Big booby Tit Machine was malfunctioning, and flesh is weak and wholly delicious so instead, metal, unlike the fleshlight, didn't provide satisfaction, that messy implement, resuming its journey into rectal territories beyond your wildest squats. Richard James' wet, quilled chasms felt quite good. So much so, he came in Cytherean arcs which watmm rated a jazzband facepalm fart with boner index of 90101 as certified by Shannon Doherty, famous for her statewide sandwich competition. Masonic Boom waited. The lights were made of cheddar cheese. A yonder light twinkled, sprinkled, tinkled. Like a rapidly descending dong, a donkey dong in the face of a blatant accusation like Skrillex being avantgarde. I just lolled. As did I.

We, the people of the WATMM hereby declare that each Thursday, from about tea time into morning hours, all members MUST grab their ankles and sing thusly: "I'm a little salad greens with many interesting tentacles, curry powder and a slight hint of a certain element that could under certain circumstances be cheese". Afterwards you may, if Fox Mulder will take the brawny girl called Susan and impale her subconscious mind, where by "mind" I mean a bubble of underwear with pink antennae and sirch's raging haemorrhoids which smell rather like the plaid subforum.

I can't emphasize the wrong syl-lab-le enough. So let's emphasize my other quality: My extroverted coprophilia. I particularly enjoy [REDACTED] with an old lady and the succulent smell of farts caustically burning my UGH NOSE TO TINGLE in the dingle which clingeth to the hairs of several large manbears. The verbal limitation of imitation information, rhyming as masturbation, of scrotum oscillation while hearing The Temptations. Enough about myself! perchance I eat da poopoo some other time. How about fried fart cheese [thrashbear] on your bagel, no?

"We shant be having that. However, nougat seems to be delectable", Alice replied. Mad Hatter laid his dick on the platter and frightened everyone. "Max 5 words!", Alice moaned. But the nougat flowed onto the kalashnikov by Tweedledum's side; many large erections followed suit, upsetting the tea table and inducing mass ectopic pregnancies within six months after growth-hormone was administered. The beast became a serious follower of Jainism but forgot to flush out the keys to his skoda octavia. Lets drive to Brazil, via Grantham while openly pleasuring a small rodent.

We listened to Cmdr 'Pussy2Good' on repeat for days. "Did I say 'shant'? I meant 'shart'," mused WIlliam. Suddenly, Will.I.am grabbed a hold of Will Smith and stuck his willy into her will she willingly wrote for a couple of blue cheese specialists. "I'd rather specialize Alison Brie", ejaculated Brian Blessed while sneezing. Often, Brian liked to insert his beard into fetid bags of freshly roasted bat faeces. "A plastic cup", thought BCM randomly. One cup contains myriad Briegasms. The other, a small red mushroom. "Cum and mushroom smell alike!" Yelped Blessed senselessly.

"Call me Ishmael" said Joyrex, taking the mushroom rectally, and then orally, ignoring disapproving looks. So they said unto Joyshmael: "Please to thank the taint please". The roarous applause deafened the blind monks who mistook the applause for a stampede of Autistic German Seamstresses in a bad mood.

Now, back to the back of the strange caves of Krathog. An old hermit purified himself in Lake Minnetonka exhorting baph to chatmm and he emptied his bowels in anguish, crying desperately his wish to be relieved of his curry-induced diarrhea. That caught the attention of The Church Of Scientology. Suddenly Tom Cruise became sane. Lol j/k. He did yoyo tricks too close to Craig Anderson's face. Craig's reaction was like this:

QhFID.png

fig. 1



Craig's craggy good looks hid the fact that this thread, when played backwards, gives directions to a land of mystery, wonders and hairy, bethonged trolls.

This land was called Quphlixious Muffle Pleet Konstrom Perysmooch Titty, which was founded upon the Hydrogenated soybean oil cliffs of Lion's spunk jar, which he filled whilst observing North Korea. Craigs looks also abroad to the oil cliffs while writing Craig poetry: "Behold my tremendous scrotum of fabulous mysteries climbing the mountain of recently shaven badgers". "Strange." thought the buffalo, who had stopped to admire the view as they chewed used-condom-flavored chips.

Nonetheless, a big beat revival was imminent. Fatboy Slim was having a bad hair day which hindered his ability to make big beats with his big beat making machine after swapping bodies. He borrowed Prodigy's, and proceeded to rub peanut butter on his dick, of course. It was so good cuz it hurt so bad but it felt so right. But a new player appeared: A wild Snorlax. Joyrex... was it's name-o.

End of Chapter I.


Chapter II: The Knurled Shaft of Ray Charles' Induratio Penis Plastica.



He set down his dildo collection and vowed to never release another Aphex album. "I'll stick to my Elton John pseudonym" he thought. And then the rain started. "How odd that the rain was purple and smelled of piss." Prince pranced purplely whilst blue and red lights glistened like tears in rain--cold November rain. He realized nothing lasts forever except The Simpsons. "Bart get out I'm piss" he cried into his spaghetti whilst drinking a fuckload of bees. Oprah lifted her grool-soaked nightie out of Calista Flockhart's gaping bathroom window. Then came the kool-ade man and his pitcher full-of boiled deer ovaries marinated in purple koolaid and crystal meth.

Then the mayor appeared, bedazzled with semen chocolate chips, jiggling his glorious tittyballs. "I hereby declare that IDM- Fuck fuck fuck wrong speech, where's my cards? Troon took them away from their mother." The teleprompter, faster than you can say 'Faster than you can say', said some stuff really fast. Meanwhile in LTM-forum, everyone was banned because of some weird banning virus. 'Minaj's ass was too big' was it's awkward virus name. It gave everyone a boner, even the women and women-kids who had been infected. The only cure was dressing up like Batman and harvesting Vespene Gas using only a bicycle pump. "You must construct additional pylons" said the Generalissimo. "Now, three people must die." But who to kill? The Generalissimo glances in Sirch's direction who was busy massaging his own ego with fish oil. Sirch protested vehemently, "When Joyrex unfurled I was harvesting Yak's milk when I heard milk Yak's herd. But no Vespene. Sorry duder." "Homogenic was better anyway," interjected Homer the Homogenous Homophile.

Ain't it funny how White people always try to talk like this, while black. But can't best Black Dynamite. Anyway Sirch was confused so he grabbed an awl, awled gaargs pussy, unaware of gaarg's dentata defenses. Michael Strahan proceeded with his plan to punt the referee's buttocks from WAAAY down town. Said plan involved stealing a shipment of rehabilitated espionage llamas for covert operations OR SO WE THOUGHT. It's all a ruse concocted in the secrete to baffle the boffins from The Land of Puffins! Jefferoo jungled junglily as usagis banjo string perforated abusivegeorge's veiny hymen, making me wet, and he gushed all over and the perforated Hymen became slightly offended. Suddenly the hymen grew wings but didn't know what wings were. So it never flew. Fuck. That could have been the end.

Luckily, Meryl Streep chanced by. She was covered in hummus. Unluckily, she was then savagely mauled by a Bengal Tiger which had escaped from a nearby circus. It fellated her guts out. Real fucking nice. "Stop fucking Nice", France said. "I'm sorry - what?", said the tiger. "You don't know Nice? It's all about surprise sex.". Meryl and the hymen flew right above the field of Dreams (with Kevin Costner) exclaiming "If you make it into a statue of dry semen I will finally pupate and I will come." Reference completed. Costner ran from the cum but he kept making new wicker effigies of Daniel Day-Lewis auto-felatting himself while watching the ride prickface-esquely, as we all do. "I don't." said a narcoleptic man standing over the pit of terror, his anus exposed into Meryl Streeps eyes, causing her spontaneous combustion to smell like Jenkem poured into boiling piss spread onto toast for Hardy.



CHAPTER THREE: The Slaughtering of Nine Arabian Penis-Monsters by The Pansexual Infidel Horde Led To The Inevitable Rise of A Syncretic Penis Worship Cult Leader? George Bush.




Meanwhile in Qatar...Quatarian volleyball players were devising new chess strategies when they discovered StephenG was posting too much and proceeded to destroy mercury. Then Morgan Freeman asked us politely to leave. With that dulcet tone. Then dispensed with politeness and shouted "GET OUT, GET THE FUCK OUT!!". Then anally fucked Jefferoo. Which was uncalled for. Just a skull fuck would do. In other news, white people are going to Nascar.

- Oh fuck yeah! -

Meanwhile on Saint Helena; the secret Buddhist 'Fight-Club' was about to commence with their annual potluck novelty "lucky-dip" tombola accompanied by throat singers doing covers of Fucked With A Knife by Cannibal Corpse. "FIVEWORDSMAX!", Shouted Johnny Rotten "fuck that" said Sid Vicious, then did a load of smack. Which was his only talent and why he is dead. "Tragedy strikes again" sang the Bee Gee. "Billy Crystal BCBG Billy Goat means nothing to me." Said Midge Ure. "Who?" Said Damon Albarn while smoking a hookah and telling crap stories of the literal fecal variety: "It was the poop of times... it was the pee-pee of times". The book was a bestseller in Nigeria. That's because it resonated with militant jihadists in the poo-poo. They call their life a spectacular ball-busting incorrect and confusing use of english. Now let's get this fucking thing back on track.

By the fuck! I say we all eat da poo-poo platter. "No" said platter haters. "Yes" said platter lovers.Things were about to get ugly. So Sarah Jessica Parker appeared in full saddle and stirrups on a gay humpback whale called Clarence Abdul Christian Rosenberg Rodriguez Rodriguez Rodriguez Rodriguez VI and Pope Gregory the 9th having been freshly invigorated by the cool breeze sweeping between the clefts of their manly buttocks. And those were wondrous days; In the days after they harvested shrimp, bathed in applesauce,

One day, Dr. Martin Ssempa left jefferoo's sentence unfinished, cuntishly, and sculpted busts of Powers Booth eating da poo-poo. "Stop saying that!" cried while furiously strangulating the sentence structure. "What the fuck"... said spratters when Wang fell off his Chinese bicycle right into Dong without pants on, upsetting the Chinese administration greatly. With great vengeance and furious anger, they shall avenge their fallen brother. "Those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers with more than three words and.... your peeeeeeeee----" squealed Sirch before clutching his chest and keeling over, stone dead. Although 5 words was acceptable. Then Sirch went to McDonalds, to search for zombie cures and smoked salvia with Ronald 'The Story Is Offically Broken' Mcdonald. A strange nickname, his.

Anyhoo, on the other side of the moon, Pink Floyd looked, saw spot run. They decided that this was a silly place. "Let's find a strange woman," said the ghost of Picasso. Picasso seduced a cactus with his "jerkin" dance skills. She blushed, farted and envaginated an entire cantaloupe. Cactus, fruit, what's next? "Whiskey and wild women!" said the obese lady of night. Her pendulous tits caused Joyrex round his ankles, forcing him to actually read the previous sentence before posting. So Picasso was like: "Lavate, which is beneficial. Lol you guys!" he chortled. And he kept chortling, until his head fell off. The head rolled and rolled, until Rick y Gervais stopped it with his incredible mind powers in a socially awkward way that suggested Kim Il-Sung buy stock in Red Lobster. Which he did. Then Gervais looked at head and believe it or not he stopped being so smug. Then one day Karl Pilkington also looked at head, penises touched, and Picasso's disembodied head lol'd at dem babylon bumbaclot raping jah's fullness of creashan and ting, seen?

And at this very moment, somewhere in space, he still sings of raindrops on roses and Mr Dobalina, Mr Bob Dobalina who we all know as the single-most IDM man ever, as it is written in the FLS Bible written by Flying Lotus. Thom Yorke wanted so badly to be included but he'd already promised Fourtet to cut his hedge so had to miss out on the wonkiness of FlyLo's soggy space rocket effluence. "Yo Nigga, this is some quality shit." Said Thom's wonky eye. "This is it!" said his good eye. "I'm leaving!" said Gerard Depardieu. Now all I have to do is find my legs which were recently voted off the island. They were last seen hot-footing it towards Mr. Manimal, from YouTube, who promptly got convicted for being too well toned and defecating on Tom Cruise's feet. Cruise's scatological fetishes allowed him to eat... da......na International's cleft.

Meanwhile; in a Berlin brothel, Ralph Macchio was plotting a terrible revenge. To people who never heard of him. He hated his goddamned bike. It was a shiny red tricycle that had a oyster compartment and a Peewee Herman helmet. He injected 2CB in butthole, just as my dream prophesized; a broken man's dream of living next door to alice, for 24 years, completely nonconsecutively. "I love bitches" stated Putin, while he sat on the Ritz crackers he'd just bought. It was the only way to let dem crackers pay for the death of his favorite hamster and Pussy Riot.



CHAPTER III: The Exceptionally Solid Bowel Movement.



It was a crew dem Rasta 2-step and ting, mwa ombrayla jam BOOYAKKA in your punani.



Chapter IV: Thom Yorke's Wonky Eye Went To McDonalds Where He Ordered a Generous Serve of Nicki Minaj's Ass With Side Helpings of Courtney Love's Tits.



Ronald McDonald said to Thom, "It is Burial who knocked up Grimace, no?". Then they fucked, passionately. Their baby was named Wonky Clown and soon developed severe coulrophobia, allergies to environmental blogpost whinings, lots and lots of aids, and shit like dat. Despite his shit like dat, Wonky Clown was not amused with the turn of events leading up to ThomRon's divorce. They split because he refused to accept Interac for sex. So Wonky Clown went on journey to Reedham and fucked Squarepusher's mom over on a high risk investment in a forthcoming Ronaldpusher collaboration organised by Baselogic Productions. and released on 7" vinyl "Periods Never Really End Sentances". Spelling errors forced the vinyl's deletion, but Ceephax came to the rescue! He tattooed Wonky's penis with an old knitting needle. It was a picture of a monkeys vagina.




Chapter 5: Wading Through The Piles of Paperwork Stacked Up on His Desk, The Drag Queen Realized That Nothing Was Easy When It Came To Making Mountains of Blood and Excrement From a Family of Porcupines.



"My name is Bloodscrement Mountain," said the baguette. Papa Porcupine, AKA "The Baguette Bandit", was drafted in to avenge the death of Mr. Roy, the Toxic Boy of Constantinople. It all happened within five minutes of Your Mums Abortion; a decent restaurant with an unfortunate name. Slated by "TimeOut" but loved by the cast of Cheers. Ironically, nobody knows your name and they're never glad you took that trip to Milwaukee drunk, high and wearing pink lingerie. A volcano inexplicably erupts over Neo-Philadelphia. Will Smith looked to the sky and said: "Whose Boysenberry Flan is this?". It was cooked to perfection none other than 17 minutes beforehand. He scoffed it down and had a furious wank.

Vital premature ejaculation emancipation proclamation desensitization insemination ruined story thread. Some members of the team seemed to be causing problems fabricating child pornography. "Lol lol lol" said the man with the goat. He then opened a can of worms by demanding a mauve, right-angled car washing machine on same-day delivery to Broxbourne county council; but he also literally opened up a letter envelop. Saying: "Bull Wallet soon". Obel laughed heartily on the outside, but inside, because a can-opener is inside him, he was in considerable discomfort. Yet he managed to have a wank and collect the semen for four years, before he could be re-elected as a clown tripping rootin' tootin' increasing-post-count and rewriting '1984' in Tagalog. Tagalog that a Filipino ladyboy obviously wrote with liposuctioned fat and a carrot.

"Whos cheese is this?" asked Megan Fox's pet dwarf, Jermy The Bean Man. Just kidding; that didn't happen. It was actually Susan Sarandon's vagina monster with lasers that shoot peas.

Wonky Clown returned because glunk said so. But this time he was to ream yonder. Yonder was like: "Wonky, dude, his pagan mask fell off man, put the fucking thing back over his face!". Burrowing feverishly savagely thuggishly ruggishly truly madly deeply "You guys are really bad at this", thought Wonky. Yonder was like: "Wonky, dude, stop teaching fruit Calculus!" Thus, Fruit Calculus remained mentorless, and generally disenchanted with his sexuality. Even though his large thighs spoke of mysterious lust for a large book filled with sea shanties and salty thrusts of a paraplegic gerbil's pelvis. Therefore, Fruit Calculus bought a new dimension to the ever changing effects of the 4th dimension on our mega troon subforum where the titties thread exists. And gay cock.

Ruptured remains in doggy bagg, floating in puddles of forgotten piss. Roasted Moose Scrotum was his maiden name. Big Hairy Wart, was his Indian name. He went on a mission on a horse with 3 or 5 malignant tumours. Each tumour had a story; each tumour had a name.

The first tumor was born of a broken man, meritless and directionless. Quoth he, "My name is SUP, King of Coolville and Guardian of The World Gramma and The Shitposts. Verily, I say I am a complete dick, of a Dick I am complete. Warm dick, Richard! Warm cunt, Richard! Die Pflicht ruft!".


Chapter 6: A Lazy Sunday Morning.



In the warmest climate of the sun, the second tumor The Land Of Uz, AKA The Sun Shitting Dick Nipples had cancer.



CHAPTER GOOD: Graham Woke Up, He Could See On See.



Then Burial said: "I am Steinvord."

*woodblock & distant 'Yeeeeaaaahhhhh'*

"Jesus, what the fuck was that?" thought Burial. As bullet casings skittered across the pavement, he ducked down an alleyway. Stir-fried badgers cock sigh made the alleyway smell. It was the Aphex Twins, Richard and David James.

"Lol I'm done" said Burial.

"Rest in pieces" said the Aphex Twins.



The End.

 




... *weeps tears of beauty*

 



lol.

Edited by triachus

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I sort of miss Craig to be honest.

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It was a crew dem Rasta 2-step and ting, mwa ombrayla jam BOOYAKKA in your punani.

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BTW I used to think the 'I' stood for independent. Can't we change it to that coz it's better I think?

Then it would be 'indie' dance music. For once in your life madame, think of the consequences, this isn't the carefree 80s anymore!

 

No it wouldn't, it's still IDM Keith! It's still IDM!!!

 

I always thought the "I" stood for "I"

 

as in:

 

I Dance Music.

 

That doesn't even make sense

 

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I would totally see this if the tag line was "like Open Water... in SPACE"

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this show could get exciting if they add another person into the sex box

 

While people are getting at it, another box sneaks up & is like " 'sup ".

 

 

Dying xD

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so many good ones recently

 

Gow' dam gubmentz be takin' da walla frazzle massle, and da dayum inngrents be comin' over takin' all err jyoubz, and that ain't even sayin' nuthin' 'bout da dayum aliens of arrya 51 fuckin' lizard wazzla frazzle be all surveillance and wattnot, NSA be up in der n' can't even go tah wal mart without a fuuukyin gubmentz be all on my tail 'bout the razzle massle, fuckin' wat da fuuuyk, cuz den ya gawt all da traiturrrz like snowdayn foywkin' gaylord up da buttsekz, an' dat ain't even talkin' 'bout condaleeza septemburr nine 'leven fuckin' Muzlim Injyunz from Iranaq fowkin' all spreadin' rap myusic to traaah t' rape my daughter Mary Jay Lou Bowb, fuckin' arrya 51 and dem librralz be all wal mart wazzle frassle, so basically if'da gubmentz be shuttin' down, den das cuz the African Muslim commie USSR Chinese 'Bama care be all up in MY cuntry and takin' my gunz cuz I protect MY rights as a 'Markahn fuckin' razzle frassle.

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its not a sexually dick its a science dick. no problem

 

This is the argument I'm going with when work asks me why there's a giant dick in my Chrome history.

 

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Here's one from the same set of photos but with my mouth closed so as not to upset any non-UK watmmers.

 

IMG_0266.jpg

 

That tree in the background looks a little bit like Admiral Ackbar

:trap:

LOL

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nice ent, what's funny about it?

He was referring to the picture with all those bracelets. One of them says Ent Jizz. He then posted a picture of an Ent as an aid in helping the reader with imagining a mental picture of what ent jizz might look, feel and/or smell like. Altough the pic might be redundant, since I was imagining that for a while now (3 weeks).

 

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i don't think i could date a bronie, mainly as i like to date guys with a bigger dick than me.

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one of the most notable things about your records for a long time now, but especially with exai and lel event, is how unique the textures are. on watmm lots have noticed that the latest ep has a very "frothy" and "wet" sound. I don't mean this in a gay way. [...]

 

it's kind of a torn out quote of a serious question, but the whole idea of alco communicating with ae is just insanely hilarious to me. had to stand up to laugh properly in order not to hurt myself when i read this.

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Say, Sean and Rob, do you guys have any questions for WATMM?

at last, 106 pages BEFORE ANYONE ASKED

 

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one of the most notable things about your records for a long time now, but especially with exai and lel event, is how unique the textures are. on watmm lots have noticed that the latest ep has a very "frothy" and "wet" sound. I don't mean this in a gay way. [...]

it's kind of a torn out quote of a serious question, but the whole idea of alco communicating with ae is just insanely hilarious to me. had to stand up to laugh properly in order not to hurt myself when i read this.

flol

 

I had a series of funny questions i posed to them which they did not answer. i especially liked the one about thinking of vietrmx when they walk through tunnels.

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Hello Sean, Rob just wanted to say hello, been a while, hope you guys are well. :happy:

 

ooh hi rich

are you still in roswell?

do you attract UFOs with your special electronic apparatus?

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re: long porn videos

 

maybe you click around through the video like a stars of the lid track, desperately trying to find something resembling a crescendo.

Edited by modey

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this was compson's best post.

 

Found a bag of old hash brownies, gave them a taste and didn't enjoy it to say the least.

So I mixed it all in some greek yogurt but didn't realize it had expired two weeks ago.

Ate half of it so far and I feel pretty good now, but I almost puked initially.

Still have to eat the second half or I'll feel like a wimp.

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from the tycho release thread

 

I love design and adobe creative cloud. I like to blend different photos I've taken with my 5D Mark III. My 50mm lens is great for portraits, but I use my 19mm for landscapes. I also am a big fan of 60s-70s-era Braun. I'm a contributor to iso50. I wear real denim, am restoring a 1981 Bianchi, and prefer my latte with a rosetta on top. I prefer whole milk, grassfed, because it makes for some fine microfoam. When I'm rock climbing in Big Sur, I enjoy listening to Tycho's music, or anything on Ghostly, on a good set of cans. I bought an expensive set of cans recently, and they're definitely worth it, especially when listening to some quality music. I like to take women home and play them Bon Iver's older material. I also play guitar. I recently upgraded to a mahogany Martin. Again, it was expensive, but worth it. I like the warm tones encouraged by the mahogany back and sides, and the matte cedar top is ergonomic. I like building furniture from reclaimed pallet wood. I work in a furniture pop up shop.

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hooooly shit

 

 

 

Trying to make music with one synth that did everything would be like trying to perform surgery with a top of the range swiss army knife.

You mean, "fucking badass"? Imagine you're in a restaurant where someone collapses. The dude's girlfriend starts to scream and is like, "OMG my boyfriend just collapsed!" Then out from some random booth, a doctor steps in all assertive and pushing people out of the way. He's all, "Stand back! ...Stand back!!! ...I'm..... I'm a doctor." Then after touching the collapsed and turning purple- bleeding from the ears and eyes- dude's body, the doctor is like, "This man has acute brocco-loco choco... He needs surgery immediately!" Then the collapsed dude's girl is like, "OMG, I'll call 911-" Then you enter the scene by doing a double-backflip over the crowd and land next to the panicking girlfriend, and you're all, "NOT SO FAST! This man needs surgery, not a telephone call." Then you just push people out of the way who aren't even in the way and grab your top of the range Swiss Army knife from your chest holster of random shit. The doctor mumbles some shit about how the man needs medical attention immediately, and you mumble quietly whilst calculating the situation in its entirety, "Medical attention? Unlike you... that's exactly what I'm giving this man."- you then yell demands at the crowd, "You! Fatass- gimme your beer. Waitress! Yeah, you, big tits-- gimme 27 pitchers of ice... ...NOOOW!!! You! Kid- gimme your shoes and your drink." And then with a bottle, straw, shoelaces, and a ziplock bag you had in your pocket from an O of purple haze, you make a contraption to facilitate the man's breathing with your foot, while the ice is used to slow his heartbeat to near stopping. Then using your Swiss Army knife, you slice open the dude's body, complete some complicated procedure with the assistance of a chicken wishbone, and sew him back up-- all with your 5kg, has-every-feature Swiss Army knife. "He's gonna be fine, miss.", you say to the amazed and thankful girlfriend. Right before walking away, you tell the doctor, "Doctor... Clean this man up, unless you wanna waste more of our time. -Everybody, everybody... Please, stop with the taking pictures. Saving lives and knowing what I'm doing is part of my life. And as much as I'd like to do an interview for you- every single local news channel-- right now, I have to go home and make music with one synth... that does everything. Ciao." *drives away in Lamborghini Countach that has glowing lines like Tron*

 

 

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