random quotes

“You now realize copyright was introduced solely as a way for the british government to censor what was written with the Statute of Anne in 1709 (not like we had anything written before that, amirite?) and only kept on with the next government who were less authoritarian because the printers who lived solely by extorting writers went to Parliament with their kids and wives to cry in front of the MP’s to let them keep their “daily bread”.”
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“grab some pennies, go to a local walmart go the the beezneesiest cashier there where everyone is, drop pennies all over, people will stare at you like “lolfail” and then you pick up the pennies, this will boost your confidence, trust me.”

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elizabethcharlotte, on June 28, 2007 at 12:44 am said :

“Did you know that older paternal age is responsible for new (de novo) non-familial genetic disorders of all kinds in offspring. This has been kept from the general public for the last 50 years. Autism, schizophrenia, diabetes, MS, cancers, Alzheimer’s, mental retardation, etc.etc. would have been cut down not increased if the public hadn’t been brainwashed in the opposite direction. This weakens the offspring and they are very subject to all kinds of debilitating conditions that increase with paternal age and age of the maternal grandfather at the mother’s birth. This happens through generations. Duchenne’s muscular dystrophy could have been wiped out in non-familial cases and there would be no autism epidemic and schizophrenia would be down instead of skyrocketing. Intelligence also goes down on a population level in offspring of older fathers and that is why 1st borns are more intelligent again on a population level. The CDC, the pharmaceuticals, the psychiatrists and genomic all know this but do not warn the public. In fact there has been a PR campaign to sell the glamour of older fathers. http://how-old-is-too-old.blogspot.com/
The Carlyle Group and others are really into the public not knowing. Thank you so much for your work!”

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Found on some image board :

My CPU running at 80%, disk drives spinning, I pressed the any key and awaited further instructions. Beyond a new message, “Press F14 to continue” in elegant twelve-point FixedSys, none were forthcoming.

“That’s not right,” I intoned quietly while a single garden gnome darted across the linoleum. Puzzlement.

I looked for the aforementioned key and was unable to find it. On a hunch, I prised a few keycaps off, ate them, and looked around under them for the elusive fourteenth function key. I found none, so I began methodically disassembling the keyboard from left to right.

A hundred and five keys later, I was still no closer to F14—although my belly was full of chewed plastic and I felt like outbelching even the burpiest goat in the goatburping park. Puzzlement and befuzzlement.

“Okay,” I murmured to myself, obviously having bungled something up crummily, “Perhaps the key can be found inside the computer!” I went to work with a screwdriver and pair of pliers, quickly reducing the computer to a pile of useless plastic and silicon. I quickly devoured the parts that weren’t outright poisonous, and then proceeded to slowly consume the remaining chunks of heavy metal–laden circuitry.

The bitter taste of PCBs and coltan still in my mouth, I then proceeded to disassemble the CRT, first ripping out the lead and copper components and devouring them with the same gusto I had bestowed upon the motherboard. Still, no F14 key was forthcoming, and I was now developing a raging stomach ache and audiovisual hallucinations involving four gorillas and five Spice Girls in a king-sized bed together.

“…Must …find …fourteenth …function …key,” I drawled, frothing at the mouth and swaying from side to side as my stomach tried in vain to digest five pounds of plastic and rare earth metals. Lead, tantalum, and cadmium coursed through my veins, slaying the lithe porcupines normally taking up residence therein. Spots appeared before my eyes, most of which then paraded about mocking me and calling me names. One amorphous spot even morphed into Strahazazhia Kalamazoo-Kintaki-Meeps, insect goddess, and displayed her six-legged delights before my very eyes.

It was only moments later that I keeled over, died, and for a short while joined my old pal Mr. Wilson in northern California.

It was incredibly boring listening to him go on and on and on about proper cat-canning methodology and planning, so I resolved to continue my search for the elusive F14 key—thus, I quickly devoured his head while he spoke. He barely noticed.

Reconstituting myself in corporeal form, I slogged down to the nearest computer store and demanded a model with an F14 key. The proprietor, Sam (I hear he’s Pam’s sister—Pam from Pam & Meg’s!), let out a guffaw the size of an open-source gnu and told me no computer had been manufactured since 1834 with an F14 key. I grumped and burbled and demanded he find me one at once, lest his delicate-toed sister suddenly find herself sans one brother. He quickly produced a keyboard with an F14 key.

“A forgery!” I shouted and rubbed off the clumsily written “F14”, revealing the true label: “Scroll lock”. I gasped at him and demanded to know how dare he produce such a bumsy forgery. He sputtered and gulped like a fish out of gasoline for a few moments while he tried to compose an answer that would save himself from my razor-edged triangular briefcase.

“Well, I did just produce it right now!” he whined. I would hear none of it—I lopped his head off with the edge of my deadly valise, right then and there. It fell to the floor with a soft plop, rolled across the tiles not unlike a bowling ball with hair and a nose, and came to rest next to an iPod display. His body still stood there dumbly trying to show me keyboards and sell me warranties on hardware I wasn’t even trying to buy. I took a quick look around, then swallowed the keyboard whole, cranched a few times, spat out a few stray keycaps, and waddled out of the store. I sure hope Pam won’t be mad at me.

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Kierkegaard:
“Ce n’est pas le chemin qui est difficile, c’est le difficile qui est le chemin.”

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“The society that separates its scholars from its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting done by fools.” –Thucydides

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In the Federalist Papers and in his Constitutional Convention notes, James Madison wrote that the way to control the masses is to divide and rule them by increasing the number of factions in the voting districts. He did that by increasing the size of the political districts. That was why the federal govt was created by the founding fathers — to disempower the majority by making it hard for them to “unite and discover their common interest” (a quote from Madison). Today, the minority of the opulent has found another way to decrease unity — multiculturalism, racial integration, and mass immigration. Source

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“The Tazer is a Cattle-Prod! …There are no constraints left [on] the road to totalitarianism.” source

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Élisabeth Badinter, X Y de l’identité masculine, ©1992 Éditions Odile Jacob (Le Livre de Poche) p. 76. :

Le lien érotique entre la mère et l’enfant ne se limite pas aux satisfactions orales. C’est elle, qui, par ses soins, éveille toute la sensualité, l’initie au plaisir, et lui apprend à aimer son corps. La bonne mère est naturellement incestueuse et pédophile.

~ by quintal on 19 February, 2010.

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