Carnivore>NIN
I wonder if administering morphine eyedrops would cause one’s eyes to go numb.
Carnivorous eyeballs are totally going to be the next big thing.
I don’t even know why I posted in this thread.
It was your destiny.
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.
I know I should be doing something right now…but what?
I was once…but now I’m not… Further: zyzzogeton
“It wasn’t the flood that destroyed the pantry…”
You are what you eat. It’s an everyday phrase, known by all, accepted by all. It is, unknown to all, patently untrue. The unforeseen and unfortunate truth is this: You are what eats you. This I will prove by telling the story of what ate me, of my home, located beyond this Earth, beyond this galaxy, beyond this very universe.
I was born more than 8,000,000,000,000 years ago – by terrestrial counting – in an ultraterrestrial hell, a cosmos of lunacy itself. It was a world of more than three spacial dimensions, infinitely immense and infinitesimally minute simultaneously, with a sky like death – coloured as dessicated flesh, with a sun like a ruptured eye wreathed in clouds not unlike atrophied arteries – stretched taut over a blighted surface of cancerous green-black liquid mould.
My people – obscenely non-human entities with ten pairs of digitigrade legs, an external six-lobed brain, three seven-chambered hearts, and four gilled lungs – had no concept of burial, so we left our dead exposed to the elements, their prone bodies marked by tetrahedral headstones driven through their thoraxes, allowing them to putrify into puddles of the foulest oily film. There was little life beyond our own kind in residence on the world, ensuring we had little to eat, so we often had to compete with the crystal behemoth-moths for the right to consume our own deceased, steering clear of their razor-edged probosci to avoid of the fate of our potential nourishment.
This was an insufferable existence, made the least bit bearable only by the opiate microbes which released intoxicating pheromones each dimless night, until the day finally came when our black stars come into proper alignment, opening a rift through the maelstrom of transspace which emptied out into this familiar multiverse. Curiously, fearlessly, I strode into the glow of the gateway and was transported to this Earth.
In the end, I took refuge in the body of a human male to survive (consuming his entrails so as to free up living space within his abdominal cavity) and quickly acclimated myself to human existence. Yet I can never adopt wholly the human psyche; my genesis in that chaos universe has fully seen to that.
You are what you eat. It’s an everyday phrase, known by all, accepted by all. It is, unknown to all, patently untrue. The unforeseen and unfortunate truth is this: You are what eats you. This I will prove by telling the story of what ate me, of my home, located beyond this Earth, beyond this galaxy, beyond this very universe.
I was born more than 8,000,000,000,000 years ago – by terrestrial counting – in an ultraterrestrial hell, a cosmos of lunacy itself. It was a world of more than three spacial dimensions, infinitely immense and infinitesimally minute simultaneously, with a sky like death – coloured as dessicated flesh, with a sun like a ruptured eye wreathed in clouds not unlike atrophied arteries – stretched taut over a blighted surface of cancerous green-black liquid mould.
My people – obscenely non-human entities with ten pairs of digitigrade legs, an external six-lobed brain, three seven-chambered hearts, and four gilled lungs – had no concept of burial, so we left our dead exposed to the elements, their prone bodies marked by tetrahedral headstones driven through their thoraxes, allowing them to putrify into puddles of the foulest oily film. There was little life beyond our own kind in residence on the world, ensuring we had little to eat, so we often had to compete with the crystal behemoth-moths for the right to consume our own deceased, steering clear of their razor-edged probosci to avoid of the fate of our potential nourishment.
This was an insufferable existence, made the least bit bearable only by the opiate microbes which released intoxicating pheromones each dimless night, until the day finally came when our black stars come into proper alignment, opening a rift through the maelstrom of transspace which emptied out into this familiar multiverse. Curiously, fearlessly, I strode into the glow of the gateway and was transported to this Earth.
In the end, I took refuge in the body of a human male to survive (consuming his entrails so as to free up living space within his abdominal cavity) and quickly acclimated myself to human existence. Yet I can never adopt wholly the human psyche; my genesis in that chaos universe has fully seen to that.
Cool!
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Hey you… yeah, you… you, the cat. Get out of the way!
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.
😐
😭
❤️
ONCE I AM ELECTED I WILL HAVE THIS THREAD CATAPULTED OVER THE TFN WALL
❤️
Basically, finals
I can’t see anything in your last post, Hans (unless that’s the joke?!)
Mark’s Down On Your Syntax said:
I can’t see anything in your last post, Hans (unless that’s the joke?!)
No, it’s a .webp file. Some people can’t view those, I don’t know why.
I blame the Illuminati.
This was clearly freemasonry.
HansiG’s new avatar legitimately scares me.
Dude, stop looking at me like that.
The Nostalgia Critic is a legitimately scary sumbitch.
I never found him funny, so he really just came across as a deranged man screaming at a camera in front of what looks like a cheap apartment wall, on low-res video. He really does sound scary.
The Person in Question
I find his deranged persona amusing. He is kind of a hypocritical windbag, though.