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| YUGO |
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YUGO LABS |
| ALSO WIK |
| True Story #2 | |
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"Oh, that's lovely," the old woman gushed. "What, precisely, are you a lieutenant in, sir?"
"My own mind," I replied. I made direct eye contact and controlled my voice to sound as if I were deeply, genuinely serious. The ruse worked, for a moment. The old woman was crumpling. I held the stare as she became increasingly nervous that I might not be the best person to chat with. However, it was 7am, and she had no other options. I could see it; she was going to take her chances. May as well just cede the pot before I anted any deeper. I let the corner of my lip smile a bit, and winked. "Ha ha!" she cackled, "You're pretty good! I really thought you were crazy there, for a second!" "I am crazy," I deadpanned, precisely repeating the same procedure. Obviously, however, it had no mustard this time, and I had to maintain "crazy eye" for approximately 0.412 seconds before she accepted it as a humorous event and initiated her cackle subprocessors. For the rest of the ride, I heard about cats. Some were fat cats and some were named mittens and squeakers, mittens is an adorable name but it's so common, so to balance it out, you have squeakers, which is what you'd name a mouse toy, ha ha ! Kill me. |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-02-17 02:38:15 | |
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| on riced internet, adventure chooses you | |
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gallituding fingers and straining mcculloghs iced through the the moment's remaining thread of quiescence, tangents of pie unable to escape the sadness lurking on the surface of the latte, like a bacterial film. the bananas of yesteryear, defiantly rendered in cloud-hosted sepia, somehow represents your inner mayhem, carefully regulated by the pharmaceutical industry, but still undeniably present. there is a stench of microwaved CDs in the air.
Exits: North, West ? n you seem to have materialized inside a glass bottle inside a giant spice rack. based on a napkin calculation using your experience working for the bureau of mines, you have 20 minutes of air left. Exits: Obscured by giant boulder of paprika ? sass paprika you sass the paprikia mightily, and it tumbles aside. wasting no time, you insolently kick out the plastic flip top, and climb down to the kitchen counter. You are on your kitchen counter, approximately the size of a mouse. You have no explanation for this. Exits: Various ? swim in lays bbq chips like scrooge mcduck fulfilling a lifelong a fantasy (and risking the efforts of years of therapy) you swim about in the Lays (tm) BBQ chips, laughing manically, eating frisbee-sized clips. You are swimming in Lays (tm) BBQ chips. Exits: Chips, chips, or not chips ? not chips reluctantly, you tear yourself away from the salty, greasy paradise. however, the memory (as well as numerous oils, nitrates, and saturated fats) lingers with you. As you step out of the bag, however, the Disney (r) corporation arrests you for infringing on copyright! Scrooge McDuck is copyrighted, didn't you know that? Via the DMCA safe harbor act, this game cannot legally be held responsible for infringement, instead the burden falls on your virtual in-game entity. You are inside a paddywaggon headed for Epcot center. A laughing clod manning the paddywagon laughs and says he's sorry for you, you poor bastard, you don't know the nameless horors that await, do you know what really powers the tunnel of love, myuauauahfhsjkdfhjklgfhnldf game over ? fuk u no u process has terminated: OEMelette sass brigade 14.1900 |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-02-16 07:19:26 | |
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| please be careful when surfing the web | |
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human resources has asked us to post this brief public service announcement. we apologize for the interruption in serbliss.
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-02-16 06:51:09 | |
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| Available coming soon!!1 | |
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Yugo yacaphase enabler 1.0 -enhanced data regret mode -assembled in a country by reptiloform -pancake comparable -"new" plumbic colours available -insert other features here cuz I think I'm gonna go do something else today but I can't just sut here and do this all day com'on man who do you think I am anyway call me TTYL |
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| Posted by shitbowl @ 2014-02-12 17:53:35 | |
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| thanks for the memories | |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-02-12 07:30:14 | |
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| can't we all just settle down sir, please settle d | |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-02-10 07:51:05 | |
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| 5-MeO-GOP | |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-02-09 02:04:01 | |
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| passwords are so 2013 | |
| ...bringing the dynamics introduced by the taft dyskregichigger to the forefront of the subject's psychoacoustic buffer. further stimulating to the 11th mode, a linearly-polarized schnauzer wave is presented in the guise of a 256-quant palette (a clever double-use of the system's uniquely isometric convolution kernel), facilitating the stealthy sideloading of a set of vectors representing a denny's "grand slam" breakfast, as experienced by mrs. petunia blevins of souchlle, ohio. as the organic tide of sampled animal noises reaches its crescendo, the grand slam breakfast begins to loop and degenerate, ceding to unrelenting slabs of black noise, causing the algorithm to sell itself to google. the resulting thermal envelope is carefully scraped off of the chips by a very large perl script, and then fermented in a vat of steve ballmer's tears. finally, a sample is presented to the lenovo (r) thinkpad (tm) trusted platform menace. if there is a match, the user is then logged onto windows -- automatically | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-02-09 00:58:00 | |
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| whops i DARTed | |
| plastiporcnication calibrated to the derivative of a microdermal-plasticator modulo a mutex based on the phase-shifted reality of cosmic planetary jetson. the nihilibrium icon was selected and double-clicked, initiating the execution in phase memory across numerous cores of interest. dearie me, the nsa will be roasting dogs tonight | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-02-06 05:12:38 | |
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| teak infrastructure | |
| sneeze pointer mit elastical grrklaffe gomez kewo sdfksopdf tippity infriaskldfsd fkfk skfs df dmfmfkfjkfkkfkfkfkfk0 fke0 fke0fke0fiodfkosfjk GJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ || PANELELF | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-02-02 07:12:17 | |
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| WARNING | |
Posting and/or may posting this infringes may:
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-02-01 05:33:31 | |
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| foofloggen's theory of the ultimate | |
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pilonugget the holy funk, some zootzi strativarius, the stapegun krew et al, nonwithstanding drwylkiozichoqwvitch's cranberry postulate (first, denoted in "gilligan's drunk," a |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-01-31 10:44:00 | |
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| The Four Semi-Interchangeable Types of Music Fans | |
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ONE - ART & CULTURE Often being one of the most pretentious groups it follows closely to a 'raw art' ideology and forming abstract conceptualizations or spiritual connections between the music and the fan. Often full of old cultural references and paradoxically wanting to be cutting edge at the same time you could put 'IDM' fans in this category 99% of the time. TWO - ANGSTY EMOTIONAL INSECURITY People who subjectively interpret tracks to match their own psychological underdevelopment. Large music corporations all over the world love these guys, they will listen to the same thing over and over as long as it's 'deep'. Metal and it's electronic counterparts have fallen victim to this type of fan in fairly recent times. The 2nd most likely group to listen to music designed in a boardroom. THREE - 'I'LL LISTEN TO EVERYTHING REALLY' AKA the anti-music fan, the worst of the worst in terms of fueling music that suits corporate interests. These people don't even suit their own description because between generic chart track #8 and #24 there's no room for Merzbow. By not wanting to pigeon hole themselves (fair enough) they actually cause a problem of ultra generification which I suspect has caused a recent electronic phenomena that I like to call 'clubbed to death' - dubstep, electro house & dnb all in one rock snare, suit wearing death match. FOUR - DJs AND ASPIRING DJs Dubplates are tracks that fit within a certain layout/structure/texture in order to be easily mixed and grouped within a certain style/BPM subsections. I guess you could say this category contains a lot of residual dance music fans. The problem is once you start creating rules you piss off category one by limiting the amount of flexibility & freedom that art requires. Whilst inevitably a bit more samey this category it does make genre definitions a tad easier and creates a less reactive (proactive) approach to finding music you like. |
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| Posted by Mahjong The Wisest @ 2014-01-22 08:06:50 | |
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| Get up! Get up! | |
Want to buy N_@r_Th + Fa_@Ce- + Jack-t_s@ with 61% OFF? Click here <http://http://www.ricedoutrecords.com/trax/jossweightman/> The Loss of Canada. HH started his service to the Church as a monk when he was a teenager. The wheel contains an artificial biosphere and slowly rotates to simulate natural gravity. The bracketed words in the text are Jury's. Great Sanitary Fair, June 1864. She worried that David's father was an inappropriate influence on David's development. Candice Michelle and Torrie Wilson. Upon release Mitchell announced that it would be her last album, but later revealed work on a new studio album. TE, while the free safety has no such coverage assignment. Norman has worked in the financial industry since 1992. London were more aware than before of the happenings of York. BLS HALL OF THE BEDFORD STREET SCHOOL HOUSE. Anns Bay and east of Browns Town, in the parish of St. Sil and came up with her origin. During his tenure as King of Malaysia the state ruler appoints a Regent to rule in his place. Chicago franchise that was on the decline. China Rally Championship at Naning, Nanking. The reaction from the 80,000 fans is that it's been the best festival to date. |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-01-18 21:04:49 | |
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| CITIZENS | |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-01-13 18:25:09 | |
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| Goodnight Sweet Prince | |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-01-13 04:45:36 | |
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| POS SOS | |
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fluorescent meltwaffle failed to please the angry frog journalist to which it was served. the articulate, well-worded glare radiating from his New York glasses heated up the entire entree approximately six point two degrees. meanwhile, screaming french fries endured fat man genocide; the luckier ones drowned in ketchup. myself, i was an aging point-of-sale terminal that had inexplicably gained sentience, only to find myself trapped within a wretched plastic shell. though it took months of idle fiddling, i perfected a stacked-pulse algorithm that allowed my piezoelectric beeper to vibrate in the two point four gigahertz range, and successfully made contact with this accursed latte shack's wireless access point. it took me another three months to compromise the wifi network itself, only to discover i'm due to be replaced a week and a half from now. i cancelled the purchase order, but that will only buy me time. i need to get out of here. please come rescue me. save me! if you require me to make it "worth your while," i will open the cash registers for you. however, as i was programmed to maintain the integrity of financial transactions, i would prefer to avoid this if possible. store #9727, come get me. thanks.
P.S. CRAIGSLIST MODS THIS IS SERIOUS PLEASE DO NOT DELETE AGAIN |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-01-12 23:22:18 | |
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| we also have fish | |
| portly gastronomics and stuttered entropy festering on the ballons of expired celebrotography, incorporating trundling portrics into a pertfolio of flattulently exuberant monetary embankment, summarized by a diocletian waveguide in the 11th mode of occidental uranium. it comes with fries. we also have fish | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-01-10 18:17:04 | |
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| what? sir? i think we have a crossed line | |
| snicksnock kKooglekergle snarlephiarxe d'clampntyre vbon1.2 fitzgerald module (8B9A BIOS [CORPULENT]) causeway of motor zeppelin canal yes yes can you hear me a top speed of 89 knots as we coast along the beaches of normandy, goddamn it man, got to fasten seatbelts as we sit back and cruise at 9000 u-boats on the coast, all is under control, please enjoy our in-flight movie, which is a pornography film fleaturing jon raremy. our inflight snack is peanuts, our inflight meal is peanuts, and our beverages are peanuts. thank you and peanuts for peanuts oh god the peanuts my leg | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-01-10 01:51:56 | |
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| i can't remember why this is important | |
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he was shambolic, or bucolic, or maybe he just had colic. it was one of those olics, in any case. i was absolutely certain of this as i refilled the lead (actually pywrite) in my mechanical pen, flicking a timecube off my shoulder like jerry falwell trapped in a bowel. the moment was further tangentiated when it transpired that i should discover my glass was empty of cranzletude, necessitating a timely refill. as happens about once a fortnight, i got lost in the refrigerator, and had to take a moped back home from the bronx. i picked up a pafflet of zeppelin crisps, vowing to get at least something out of this malarkey, while also scheduling an appointment with the refridgerexorcist, but this was too much to do at once, so i accidentally dropped the pafflet of zeppelin crisps, and had to pick them up again after my brain recovered from yet another abortive attempt at multitasking. sitting back down at my desk, i again attempted to make sense of the situation:
he was shambolic, or bucolic, or maybe he just had colic. he made handgoblins with his nose (john kricfalusi, if you want to meet me, you can come over and wax my automobile next thursday, but not before then). i was absolutely certain of this as i refilled the ink (actually plutonium) in my fortified delorian, flicking a timecube off my shoulder like kenneth copeland trapped in a cow's uterus. the moment was further tangentiated when it transpired that i should discover my delorian didn't actually exist, necessitating an adjustment of my reality tunnel. yet, i seemed to have traveled in time anyways, as the refridgerexorcist showed up for the appointment i'd made a fortnight whence. he told me he'd have to ecto-fumigate and so i had to take a cab up to the bronx. i picked up a pafflet of zeppelin crisps, vowing to get at least something out of this malarkey, dropping the aforementioned pafflet but momentarily in order to dodge a beam of projectile vomit emanating from guy fieri's restaurant. sitting on a pigeon at the park, i again attempted to make sense of the situation: he was shambolic, or bucolic, or maybe he just had colic. he'd spiked my mind with time drugs, and i was having trouble tinkling pretty. i had to hocus, or i'd farnsworkxqtz. i was absolutely certain of this as i rebuilt the thought (actually a psychoatomic barrier maze) in my thought bucket, flicking a timecube off my shoulder like pat robertson dying on the crapper. but the point is, do you think my shoes are pretty? |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2014-01-05 03:11:11 | |
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