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Don’t tread on me.
I was once…but now I’m not… Further: zyzzogeton
“It wasn’t the flood that destroyed the pantry…”
Completely Random Thoughts — Page 2
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These colors don’t run! They walk, because they’re fat and lazy.
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No, I probably should not have posted this on second thought…
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Where did the stereotype of ‘oriental’ music come from?
You hear it the background of films from a certain period whenever there is a shot of a Chinatown or someone from Japan.
It’s an embellishment to such hits as Kung-Fu Fighting, Turning Japanese and Japanese Boy and yet I know of no indigenous music types that sound like it.
It’s just taken for granted that it’s a short hand for the East.
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Where did the stereotype of ‘oriental’ music come from?
The Orient?
Sorry.
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No, it can from Al.
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Where did the stereotype of ‘oriental’ music come from?
You hear it the background of films from a certain period whenever there is a shot of a Chinatown or someone from Japan.
It’s an embellishment to such hits as Kung-Fu Fighting, Turning Japanese and Japanese Boy and yet I know of no indigenous music types that sound like it.It’s just taken for granted that it’s a short hand for the East.
Are you just talking about incidental music written in the Pentatonic Scale?
My favorite ----> https://youtu.be/AC-wHX8ALdM
“First feel fear, then get angry. Then go with your life into the fight.” - Bill Mollison
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I can’t remember the last time I wore pajamas. I’ve gotten too drunk and passed out in my work/street clothes at a rate of percentage at least in the upper 80s for almost 2 years. I never feel like I fully unwind. I do eat an alarming number of tacos though, luckily I have a good metabolism.
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I’ve never worn pajamas.
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I’ve never worn pajamas.
Your loss.
Army of Darkness: The Medieval Deadit | The Terminator - Color Regrade | The Wrong Trousers - Audio Preservation
SONIC RACES THROUGH THE GREEN FIELDS.
THE SUN RACES THROUGH A BLUE SKY FILLED WITH WHITE CLOUDS.
THE WAYS OF HIS HEART ARE MUCH LIKE THE SUN. SONIC RUNS AND RESTS; THE SUN RISES AND SETS.
DON’T GIVE UP ON THE SUN. DON’T MAKE THE SUN LAUGH AT YOU.
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The sun dipped low in the sky, tinting the sands of the desert a hot coral hue as it partially disappeared over the horizon. That is when the young man clad in a sharp black tuxedo appeared in the distant. Tall and lanky, he was still quite a handsome youth, with a strong chin, aquiline nose, piercing emerald green eyes, and short red hair combed back in a duck’s tail.
Walking slowly, at ease with the world and himself, he approached the young woman in the diaphanous white gown. This young woman was breathtakingly beautiful, with voluminous, wavy black hair, sultry blue eyes, a long, slender nose, full lips, and a delicate chin.
As the man spotted the woman and she him, they both froze. Taking each other in with their eyes, they seemed as if to slip into a limbo of sorts, a realm where time held no sway.
His mouth dropping slightly agape, the man raised his left arm, reaching out to the living vision before him.
“I see your true colours shining through. I see your true colours, and that’s why I love you.”
The woman smiled, the corners of her lips turning upward ever so slightly.
“So don’t be afraid to let it show,” he continued on. “Your true colours … your true colours … are beautiful …”
Raising her right hand, the woman took his wrist into her grasp. Tightening her hold ever so delicately, she gently tugged his arm towards her.
That is when she flicked out the stiletto blade she had been concealing in her other hand.
“I remember bridges!” she hissed, her facade of bliss discarded and replaced with the venomous countenance of a demoness. “I burn them to the ground!”
She then struck, driving the blade of the knife straight through his palm. Blood jetted forth from the wound in varicoloured shades and tints.
“My God!” he cried. “It’s full of rainbows!”
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The unobserved homeless person who had watched the entire ordeal waited until the woman had moved off to seek another victim…
Head tilted sideways she considered what she had recently witnessed. Shrugging, she took a meaningful bite from the remnants of a three-day old sandwich lately discovered in a nearby trash receptacle. Chewing thoughtfully, she pulled out a pen from one of her many inside pockets (she was wearing three coats) and made some hurried notes…six months later a new song was charting its way to success…and she was homeless no longer…
I was once…but now I’m not… Further: zyzzogeton
“It wasn’t the flood that destroyed the pantry…”
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All I can think of is a platter of organic Prune Crisps being trampled by an army of swarthy, Italian lounge singers…
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The sun dipped low in the sky, tinting the sands of the desert a hot coral hue as it partially disappeared over the horizon. That is when the young man clad in a sharp black tuxedo appeared in the distant. Tall and lanky, he was still quite a handsome youth, with a strong chin, aquiline nose, piercing emerald green eyes, and short red hair combed back in a duck’s tail.
Walking slowly, at ease with the world and himself, he approached the young woman in the diaphanous white gown. This young woman was breathtakingly beautiful, with voluminous, wavy black hair, sultry blue eyes, a long, slender nose, full lips, and a delicate chin.
As the man spotted the woman and she him, they both froze. Taking each other in with their eyes, they seemed as if to slip into a limbo of sorts, a realm where time held no sway.
His mouth dropping slightly agape, the man raised his left arm, reaching out to the living vision before him.
“I see your true colours shining through. I see your true colours, and that’s why I love you.”
The woman smiled, the corners of her lips turning upward ever so slightly.
“So don’t be afraid to let it show,” he continued on. “Your true colours … your true colours … are beautiful …”
Raising her right hand, the woman took his wrist into her grasp. Tightening her hold ever so delicately, she gently tugged his arm towards her.
That is when she flicked out the stiletto blade she had been concealing in her other hand.
“I remember bridges!” she hissed, her facade of bliss discarded and replaced with the venomous countenance of a demoness. “I burn them to the ground!”
She then struck, driving the blade of the knife straight through his palm. Blood jetted forth from the wound in varicoloured shades and tints.
“My God!” he cried. “It’s full of rainbows!”
Truly beautiful.
Not enough people read the EU.
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Is it possible to
I was once…but now I’m not… Further: zyzzogeton
“It wasn’t the flood that destroyed the pantry…”
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“I don’t wanna touch sand paper.” haha…
Army of Darkness: The Medieval Deadit | The Terminator - Color Regrade | The Wrong Trousers - Audio Preservation
SONIC RACES THROUGH THE GREEN FIELDS.
THE SUN RACES THROUGH A BLUE SKY FILLED WITH WHITE CLOUDS.
THE WAYS OF HIS HEART ARE MUCH LIKE THE SUN. SONIC RUNS AND RESTS; THE SUN RISES AND SETS.
DON’T GIVE UP ON THE SUN. DON’T MAKE THE SUN LAUGH AT YOU.
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I was a tree house once.
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I did not realize trees had any need for houses…!
I was once…but now I’m not… Further: zyzzogeton
“It wasn’t the flood that destroyed the pantry…”
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That was fun…
Army of Darkness: The Medieval Deadit | The Terminator - Color Regrade | The Wrong Trousers - Audio Preservation
SONIC RACES THROUGH THE GREEN FIELDS.
THE SUN RACES THROUGH A BLUE SKY FILLED WITH WHITE CLOUDS.
THE WAYS OF HIS HEART ARE MUCH LIKE THE SUN. SONIC RUNS AND RESTS; THE SUN RISES AND SETS.
DON’T GIVE UP ON THE SUN. DON’T MAKE THE SUN LAUGH AT YOU.
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Frink was wrong, this thread is interesting
kind of
a little bit
AH THIS IS BORING
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This is boring…
Army of Darkness: The Medieval Deadit | The Terminator - Color Regrade | The Wrong Trousers - Audio Preservation
SONIC RACES THROUGH THE GREEN FIELDS.
THE SUN RACES THROUGH A BLUE SKY FILLED WITH WHITE CLOUDS.
THE WAYS OF HIS HEART ARE MUCH LIKE THE SUN. SONIC RUNS AND RESTS; THE SUN RISES AND SETS.
DON’T GIVE UP ON THE SUN. DON’T MAKE THE SUN LAUGH AT YOU.
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This is Bör Ing
Oops, sorry – my bad. This is actually Stu Pitt.
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Nevermind this isnt boring
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AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Army of Darkness: The Medieval Deadit | The Terminator - Color Regrade | The Wrong Trousers - Audio Preservation
SONIC RACES THROUGH THE GREEN FIELDS.
THE SUN RACES THROUGH A BLUE SKY FILLED WITH WHITE CLOUDS.
THE WAYS OF HIS HEART ARE MUCH LIKE THE SUN. SONIC RUNS AND RESTS; THE SUN RISES AND SETS.
DON’T GIVE UP ON THE SUN. DON’T MAKE THE SUN LAUGH AT YOU.
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Pete Townshend, I’ll pay you two Lebanese pounds to kill Stuart Townsend.
Mirror McCoy is lowly logical.
Jennifer Love Hewitt, smother the tabby in his sleep.
Hudsucker’s by proxy!
It can’t be transgendered! It’s a hydra!
Alienate her, and then she’ll love you for you, not your wallet.
Adam Bryans – he was a shitty musician in the '80s, but he finally found his groove in the '90s.
Det är avslutat.