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Posts written by Zarathustra:

Episode 4 made it feel like Vader was the #2 man to Tarkin. Like he was Tarkin’s mysterious enforcer, but that dynamic changed with the introduction of the Emperor in Episode 5.

The EU stuff states that the Empire is xenophobic and sexist, but that’s doesn’t seam to be the case in the movies. It’s true that men appear to be overrepresented in the Imperial military, but then again, so are they in modern militaries on Earth. Its entity possible that there are female (or even alien) personnel, that we never get a chance to see. The camera never lingers on the crew of the Star Destroyers, and Storm Troopers, Gunners, and Pilots wear bulky armor and concealing helmets. It’s also possible that the Imperial military is split between the sexes, not unlike the Zentraedi in Macross, or the Imperium of Man in Warhammer40k. This might seam a little odd, but there have historically been all female unites, such as the Dahomey Amazons or the Women's Auxiliary Air Force. Given the Empire’s assumed authoritative nature, this isn’t to much of a stretch.

Similarly, though the Empire appears to be human-centric if its military is any indicator,
there doesn’t seam to be any direct evidence of the Empire being overtly specist or xenophobic. Sure the Detention Block commander made a snide remark about Chewbacca, but then again, Chewie is from a species of space sasquatches that rip people’s arms out when they throw a hissy-fits also possible that the guard had never seen a wookie before (implying that they are relatively rare. You don’t see any others on film.), or that the commander was just a dick. Similarly, Admiral Piett’s line "Bounty hunters! We don't need their scum." probably isn’t directed at the aliens, humans ,and droids assembled on the bridge, but rather an angry retort to Vader dick-slapping Imperial intelligence and the Imperial Navy. Imagine how you would feel if you were (or are) in the military, a when suddenly the president comes by and says “You suck at your job. I’m going to let Dog the Bounty Hunter do it.” Yeah, you’d probably be a little hurt and confused as well

The only overt racism seen on screen is that bartender in Episode 4 who (along with some of the locals) appear to have something against droids. Granted this is on a backwater planet, probably akin to the Deep South in the US. Actually, come to think of it, there appear to be some sort of droids = slaves mentality, at least on the outer rim.
What with the Jawas apparently capturing runaway or stray droids and then selling them to local communities, the analogies to the African slave trade seam apparent. Perhaps droids are only counted as 3/5ths a person or something like that.

A funny thing with colored lasers, I always thought that the green lasers represented a more powerful/expensive weapon. Personal firearms and weapons mounted on vehicles always appear to fire a ruby red colored beam. Even the rebel ship sand fighters shoot red lasers. The green beams are only seen when fired from a TIE fighter or a Star Destroyer.
The “more powerful” theory is somewhat supported by the fact that TIE fighters rip through rebel fighters, even when they have shields.
the_cloud_system said:

You want a paradox? I’ll give you a fuckin’ paradox!

Gentlemen! Ready your mechanized burqas and prepare to fight this menace head on!
SRAW said:

superjer said:

Hanafuda (“flower cards”) is a card game that evolved from Western playing cards back when the Japanese wanted to play poker, but the white-man’s culture was permabanned from Japan because Caucasians were to damn tall.

Unlike Western-style cards, the Hanafuda cards contain no numbers. Instead, the 48 cards in the deck use pictures of flowers and plants. The deck is organized in 12 suits, one for each month of the year, and the types of plants represent the months in which they bloom in Japan. Just like western cards, they can be used to play several different games.

Also, you should know that back in 1889, a small company was formed in Kyoto for the specific purpose of producing Hanafuda cards. The company was called Nintendo Koppai.

A century later, it had evolved into a titan in the video game industry: Nintendo.
Now you know.
NatureJay said:
Nnnhhh... I'd say pole socking is closer to rugby than it is American football, but that's like saying string theory is closer to rabies than ebola.

Pole Socking is real simple.

Basically, each team has a minimum of 3 Defenders, 3 Attackers, 5 Midfielders, a Goalie, and a Team Captain. Players may use their vehicles in any way they see fit, whether it be to incur injury upon other players or to gain benefits for themselves. Contact is allowed, but a player may not grasp another's socking mallet. No substitution of a player is allowed, even if one is too badly hurt to continue. The players must not stray over the boundary lines of the playfield, which extends in a 30x10 mile rectangle around a tornado, with the maximum extend being any state/province/ territory. The Nomads enter the game from the field sidelines along the designated Wing Areas at the field half mark between the spectating bleachers, and run impartial interception on both teams. Poles are planted throughout the playfield, with each team’s Master Pole located just beyond their End Line, which is the domain of the Goalie. Attackers and Defenders are restricted their fields of play, while the Midfielder's dash back and forth in an attempt to score hits upon opposing or neutral poles until the tornado(s) die out and the umpire calls hotbox. Time out may be called at any time by a team Captain by firing a flare and lasts until it burns out. This time may be extended only if a game has already lasted for more than twelve hours. Failure to return afterward disqualifies the offending team.
When a Red Alert or Blue Light power play is in effect, the associated team is allowed to sock by flying from the central circle towards the scoring area, and if successful, the pole must be surrendered to the opposition.

At the end of the game the score is calculated, with scoredowns, pole-socks and rundowns added up. Wheelies and flips are multiplied by any half-pipes and barrel rolls.

The totals are then divide by nine.
Sprinkles' Dad said:

sprinkles said:
God laughs hysterically in grave.

That is not dead which can eternal lie.

And with strange aeons even death may die.
God creates dinosaurs.

God destroys dinosaurs.

God creates man.

Man destroys God.

Man creates dinosaurs.
I see that the construction of my new Amazing Technicolor El Tigre Complex is proceeding swimmingly

Down Rodeo said:
Sloth said:
Mate de Vita said:
Sloth said:
Mate de Vita said:
Sloth said:
Crytax said:
sprinkles said:
DaveDays said:
sprinkles said:
NatureJay said:
sprinkles said:
Sloth said:

This, animal, here, this ursine fellow, unclean! He rejected society and retreated to a cave in the woods to plot his vile

Wait. What?
NatureJay said:

As it turns out, it is. Who knew?

Congratulations both of you. Your prize: The Yuki Nagato Memorial Merit Badge

As most of you know, I came form the not-to-distant future, next Sunday AD, by messing around with the space-time continuum in ways I dont want to get into.

Since coming face to face with my past self did not create a time paradox, resulting in a chain reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the space time continuum, and destroy the entire universe, I though Id make them most of my temporal vacation.

Then the world economy tanked. So I fell asleep in history class. Sue me.

Anyway, in this time of uncertainty, I though you guys and gals would appreciate some insight into the future. Now, since Im forbidden to alter history, I cant make anyone a billionaire or emperor of the world. However, since the deaths of everyone here is unavoidable and unalterably, I though it might list some of your epitaphs that will be printed sporadically on the info-cortex from 2023 to 2043.

Be warned. Since this fire truck involves the deaths of some major players her on, spoilers abound!

eDan Co.
eDan was known as a fancy dan, because he circumcised himself with pinking shears. He believed that Porky Pig cartoons represented actual events, and he once stabbed his dog with a katana in a dispute over a lamb bone. His wife, Velveeta, the only woman to ever go down on Newt Gingrich, claimed that to the very end, eDan wore a golden tassel on his penis. His last job was managing a Playboy club in Auschwitz. When he retired, he wasnt given a gold watch, but his former boss would call him once a week and tell him what time it was. Eventually, he was beaten to death with a cello by a classical musician he befriended at a juice bar.

Havokk Edge
Havokk wasnt too bright; he tough that Irving Berlin was the Jewish section of Germany. As a young man, he wanted to be a gynecologist, but couldnt find an opening. Havokk felt he was special because one of his testicles was shaped like a Brazil nut and the other like a cashew. He loved to run up to women, screaming You want some mixed nuts? He once told me that as a young man he caught the clap from one of the Doubblemint twins and gave it to the other on the same night. He was proud of the fact that while serving a prison term for sodomizing a prairie dog, he learned to drink beer through his nose. He died in an Indian furniture outlet when he was torn to pieces by a pack of Cape hunting dogs.

Nature Jay
Nature Jay was a troubled man. As a child, visiting backstage at a concert, he was fondled by a viola player and lived the rest of his days with an unnatural fear of stringed instruments. He was an elk hunter, but he wouldnt kill them. Instead, he would chase it down, knock it to the ground and suck all the gristle out of its neck with a Donald Duck straw. His hobby was falling to the floor in hotel lobbies and pretending to have a stroke. During a bungee jump, he fell in love with a Dutch courtroom artist and they where married in a windmill he next day, during a relative calm. Later he moved to Milan and was killed when a riot broke out at the La Scala candy counter during the second act of Rigoletto.

Crytax was one of the nine hundred people present at the Jamestown Massacre, but he threw away the Kool-Aid and only pretended to be dead. When everyone stopped moving he looted the corpses. He could make his cat shit by pointing the TV remote at it and pressing the VOLUME button. He could also speak seven languages, but unfortunately, he was disliked in all those countries. His hobby was attending reunions of groups he never belonged to and pretended to be people who where long dead. He drank excessively. One time he was so hungover he has to consult a cottage cheese carton to determine the approximate date. At parties he was the designated drinker, his preference being Bacardi rum, lime coke, and the tears of underage girls. When stopped and tested by police, he usually set the Breathalyzer on fire. Refusing to drive when he was sober, in the mornings he rode to work on an electric floor buffer, claiming the one drawback was the time he wasted traveling from side to side. He died on the feast of St. Dismas, after mistakenly eating a bag of after-dinner mints before lunch.

Nezumi had a tough life; intercourse with a pelican is not an easy thing to live down. Although a moral vegetarian who only ate meat if the animal had died in its sleep, Nezumi once punched out his twin daughters because they wouldnt lend him fifteen cents. He could eat a whole bowl of alphabet soup and then vomit up the vowels and consonants separately. His hobby was visiting cemeteries in poor areas and guessing which people had the worse lives. He was sentenced to ten years for defecating in a cathedral, but was released immediately when the warden felt Nezumi was lowering the prisons standards. After his release, he hitchhiked through Pennsylvania where he was beaten to death by a buggyload of Quakers.

Superjer was a proctologists mate in the navy who fought in Korea and the Philippines. Unfortunately, it was just last year and he was jailed in both countries. Superjer had twenty-three separate and distinct personalities; unfortunately, all of them where unpleasant. For years, he managed a gay carwash, but lost all his money investing in a roadside sausage museum. Subsequently, he moved to Stockholm, where he became the town scumbag. Years later, he reemerged in England as a self-proclaimed bishop, roaming the Midlands with a band of rouge alter boys, administering forced communions to lapsed Catholics. He died during Hurricane Shlomo in front of an adult sex shop when the stores sign blew down and he was crushed to death by a giant neon dildo.

Aaronjer was a fun guy. He once claimed the most difficult thing he ever did was take a shit in a phone booth without removing his overcoat. He was the only man ever brought before the World Court for unpaid parking tickets. He always wore a three-piece suit. It didnt have a vest, the jacket was just torn in half. His personal checks did not depict nature scenes, they showed animal euthanasia and the Allied fire-bombing of Dresden. He told me that in his younger days he was quite a lover and once fucked a girl so hard her freckles fell off. He met his wife, Djinna, at a UFO convention where she was conducting a basketball clinic for abductees. The instant they met, Aaronjer knew she was his kind of woman: She had peach preserves in her hair and brown gravy caked on her neck. They drifted apart when he realized all she wanted to do was sit for hours and listen to skiing on the radio. Aaronjer drifted from job to job: Balloon vendor, freelance daredevil and stoop laborer among them. He finally settled in his basement, where he lost his mind trying to invent a rectal harmonica. After that the family kept him tied to a linden tree in the backyard, where they feed him with a slingshot. After six years, they released him on Mussolinis birthday, whereupon he married a passive-aggressive librarian who later beat him to death with a dictionary stand.
You see, what Aaronjer was trying to say was: (Click for image)
You dont appear to understand, Aaronjer.
Raping a woman is the same as beating her...

In her vagina...

With your penis...
Arguing that the reality is merely an a priori adjunct of non-naturalistic ethics.

aaronbear said:


o rly?
Havokk Edge said:
Whats superjers parents names? Daddyjer and Mommajer?

For your information, Mr. Knifey McKniferson and Ms. Margaret Thatcher met at the Pogo Lounge of the Beverly Wills Hotel (in the patio section, of course), drinking Singapore Slings with mescal on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of that foul year of Our Lord, nineteen hundred and seventy-one.

Their story began much like any other, with the meteoric rise and tragic fall of a single woman innkeeper and a university hospital surgeon with too much ambition
aaronjer said:
There are no Nazis on the moon. The moon isn't big enough for Nazis AND Mr. Ribbon. That's just ridiculous.

Well, I guess now we all know who got their ass kicked in.

begginer said:
pretty neat .. i saw a couple of documentaries about nazis inventing the flying saucer ..( maybe all those sitings nowadays are just the nazis coming back O_o )

Flying saucers are quite the thing. Contrary to popular belief, Superjer did not invent the Flying Saucer. The truth is that Nichola Tesla first developed the flying saucer around 1910.

Tesla was responsible for many ingenious inventions, including alternating currents, lasers beams, partial beams, radio, television, florescent and neon lighting, robotics, artificial intelligence, and helicopters.

Superjer however did develop a doomsday device, but was stopped only by frustration brought on by the premature death of his DS batteries.
The song is Dragostea Din Tei (Love from the linden trees) by O-Zone.

Im a soldier, from the future

(Click for image)

Down Rodeo said:

This post might be best summed up as
(Click for image)

I say lad, well said.

As a public announcement, I am decreeing that all must partake in the totally awesome web video game reviews by the impeccable Ben "Yahtzee" Croshaw.

The Original trailer and two reviews can be found here:

Five (or is it six?) more reviews are found here:

If you find these works of art too cerebral, then might I recommend you watch this:
Truer words have never been spoken, Atoslamma

Well, after that pointless hiatus, we're back on track!

P.S. Cornjer, you will never understand the love that is Resident Wiivil.
^Shows strong third quarter earning potential.
^ Has special moderator powers!!

^Knows where its at.

"superjer" said:

Oh I think I know what you mean...

"brad1000" said:
You know what you get for that?

^ Including his head.
Great shot kid! Now lets blow this thing and go home!
"brad1000" said:
stay on topic idoits
^Is a fucking General with a pipe! Come on.
Intercourse. FTW!

Now, the moment which defined and defied a generation.


"brad1000" said:
^Is sage.
Needs more reverb to the harmony.
Chicks dig the 7th leg.

Ok. Moment of truth.


^Likes to rock the boat.
Is, once again, incorrect about his incorrections.
Bruce Lee


Oh gods!
Alright, Ive figured this out.

Brads attitude can be explained by the Kozai mechanism, which causes the argument of pericenter (humor) to librate (fly off into hell) about either 90 or 270, which is to say that his periapse (understanding) occurs when the body (Brad) is farthest from the equatorial plane. This effect is part of the reason that Brad is dynamically protected from close encounters with humor.
"NatureJay" said:

If a line (the joke, any joke) is tanget to to a circle (Brad), as an example, it will only come in contact at a single point on the edge. But, I've never seen the line come in in contact with the circle, and I don't suspect they will, ergo the line goes over the circle and continues onward.

So basically, rather than going in, it would just impact on the surface.
Perhaps the problem is that Brad didnt go at the joke, and go at it full throttle. Though its possible that at those speeds he wouldnt be able to pull out in time, thus impacting on the surface, and bringing us full circle.


Also, UberFlair:

Nuff said.
And peppercorn ranch.
To busy slitting throats and smoking a bowl, eh?

Personaly, I think the situation can be better explained with an equation like this:

(3n + 0.6) * 2 / ( 25 - x) =

where n equals brads stupidity and x equals failure to comprehend the Queens English.
The Hashishan is, as they say, Behind the motherfuckin times!
"NatureJay" said:

another fun thing to notice, every time anyone throws anything on the ground, it explodes. even things that are not generally supposed to explode.

What, like in a James Bond film?

Nope. Im not getting it. Some kind of rescue toaster?

Conversely, the less scientifically relevant an internet poll becomes, the number of options possible increases. This is a highly documented theory, often referred to as the Heisenberg Uncertainty Ninja, or Ilor for short.
"CornJer" said:
Where are you people?

It seems like everyone fell off the Face of the planet.


"NatureJay" said:
I tried hard enough to realize you were referring to Suzumiya Haruhi.

WRONG. Its the other way around.

Thats it. Your monthly figures are the lowest theyve ever been. Im sending you back to Knowledge Collage, effective immediately.

Turn in your badge and gun and hit the showers.
NJ! You're not trying!

Try harder!
Im pretty sure that MkErica is a porn bat or some such flesh chiropteran.
I cant even find the woman under all the fat!!
Opposite to the Arctic!

Further Evidence!!

Learn to Speak Body 101, lesson 5!
Superjer's mind is sharp, not blunt like a lemon.
Duke. You are in violation of Article 7 paragraph C the charter of 97 regarding internet humor. This ruling specifically states that violators of the aforementioned accords will be either:

A. Towed out to Devil's Reef in a leaky dinghy when the moon is wan and the Innsmouth fog is thick.

B. Placed in to a circus cannon and fired into the sun to retrieve its sweet, sweet secrets.

C. Bound to a bamboo pole ornated with several fruits and vegetables (depending on whats in season) and cast into the fiery mouth of a Rogue Space Volcano as sacrifice to Rospacano.

You have been warned.
"scalage" said:
what is

and yes i <3

The Internet convinces me that the problem of the human condition is not evil, but stupidity: Like minds attract, and the strength of that attraction is inversely related to intelligence.

If it weren't for gelato (a delicious Italian delicacy which naturally repels stupidity) mankind would have wiped itself from the asscrack of the earth long ago.

Most medical experts agree that morons naturally exert a tangible force against two things: Dostoyevsky and gelato. Don't believe me? Smear a copy of Crime and Punishment with peach gelato and visit your local community college. You'll fly higher than the local Cannabis Reform Coalition.
You forgot to mention the McDiddys ride at Universal Studios, and the full multimedia tie-in with McDiddys toys, bed sheets, and tooth-brushes, just in time for Christmas.
"superjer" said:

You tell 'em.
You forget, sir, the viable means of transportation which is the Man-Train.
Very good. You win a cookie.
Back on track.

Points for effort. Heres your reward.

"jacksmoke234" said:

Exploding is more dynamic. JUMP TO IT!
"Duke" said:
Ohh... You will have to stupid that down so i can understand more properaly you thanks

Allow me. I have some work as a translator for the Confederation.


"CornJer" said:

Foo! I aint got no game made yet! Is wanted it tah be all real and shit like that GTA shit, but the punk-ass code is major suck.

Soz I drop that bitch and got me someo that blitz action. Ya dig?

So I try for a month to make this foo game, when Im all like: I can get a job and make money for doing shit like this, but first I gots to do some major learning.

Also Is gots to make a workn demo first. I made some stuff already, but damn bitch, I got my work cut out.

Bitches best not be stealing my shit!

Wow. That makes my eyes water.
I like trains.

Do you like cars?

Me thinks it be best if all of you quit your bitching and let the man be.

Hes got enough to do, and if you pressure him, hes liable to pull a George Lucas on you with some vastly-inferior piece of shit.

Or just fling poo at you.
"CornJer" said:

[This guy] bought me mine.


Body in a woodchipper.
You mean like this?

Gods dead.

Were closed.

Go home.

-Signed, the clergy.
UghThank you for thatwhatever that was.

Wait a minute!


Here. You win this.


And take your twin sister with you, Jacksmorkel.
Now see here!

Poor typing speed is one thing, but phantom sister-logs are quite another!

Mark my words, this will be taken up by the Board of Inquiry sometime in the not to distant future. Possibly next Sunday, A.D.
Yeah, that picture with you and your sister was getting kind of creepy.
You gave it a valiant effort, and thats what counts. Just keep practicing. Aim for the stars, and one day you too will have the stars to do with as you so please.

Just remember:
Stay in drugs, dont do school, and always AARONJER!!!
"jacksmoke234" said:
Look at me!

The ideas may have been sound (on paper), but the execution and editing wherewell.

Let me put it this way. Remember how you felt when you watched that one James Bond movie; the one which had Shawn Connery in it, but wasnt an official United Artists sanctioned Bond film. ( )

It made me feel like that.
You do that. You see what you get.
You got it!
D very clearly means Die (singular of Dice), and is CLEARLY no a simpletons abbreviations of DEFCON.
In the middle of this, my lifes own journey,
I came to myself lost in the darkest wood,
My last memory that of riding dirty.

And the faint taste of a sparked blunt I still could
Sense on the tongue. How long, how far, I had swang,
But though the tinted glass of my Escalade should

Have hid my sin, still I felt a guilty pang
As they flashed those red lights and I stashed my dro.
To be a baller for real's no easy thang.

They had caught me fair, and had bade me go
To this darkest wood, sans pistola, sans ho.
'Go to hell,' the haters said, and I'll do so.
OK you simpletons, show your undying love and devotion to THE ONE TRUE SUPERJER by making motivational/informative posters about this ( site.

You can do it! I believe in you!
"NatureJay" said:
Two of those look like the font used to write the Disney logo.

GG. You win a cookie.
Im getting some JFK RAM.
On this Firetruck we pause for a moment and reflect on those computer and video games which shaped our lives, or rather, how we shaped them.

I hope this help you all put things in the proper perspective.

Namely that this style of dancing makes you all look like gyrating retards.

Hes shot outta the sky by leftfield point receiver Brian "FTW" Fenchak-Cook.
Now you know.

The other half is overcoming shame.

"CornJer" said:

Wet eyes, Dry eyes, clear eyes, hazy eyes, whatever.
Same thing.

To Corneljer, there are NO American tanks in Iraq.


And it there were, theyd be built out of gold bricks and unicorn semen.
How about EATING his computer while swearing?
Heres a little known fact: I originally penned a script for McDiddys 3, and showed it to Superjer. He was so impressed with it he promptly put it in his mouth and ate it, thus absorbing its essence and becoming one with the plot.

My cinematic greatness lives on in SUPERJER!
Well, due to the unnaturally large amount of blood contained within my body (seven gallons) I can officially say that I would indeed possess the largest BALs EVAR!
The answers to these questions could quite literally drive you insane.
"CornJer" said:

I think the essence of what Superjer is trying to say is:

"general_zim" said:
I'm gonna ask [Lord Superjer] if we're going to war with anybody else and I'll start training...

Worry not little General. I foresee you becoming a great warrior of the peoples in the next World Web War.

In the meantime study your certified combat manual, while making sure to pay special attention to section 42C, child soldiers in the combat zone.

Dont worry, the American markings are for camouflage purposes only.
[Richard Branson] is the only one who even comes close to matching Aaronjers Blood Alcohol Levels.
Ah-HA! I accept your choice of dance! Para Para it shall be. Enguarde!

And for our American audience, Ill throw in some Apple Pie DDR absolutely free!
Soopojer! What have you done?! Your hit counter worked too well:
Damn right ya do, son.

He's a good boy.
Aww, thats IT!

Youll need those hypno-vistadors to focuses on the awesome might of AzuNeko!!
I see you quaking with fear like this Cobra reject:

When I tear up the danceroom floor, Zoasterstyle!
Driz-am, you are indeed powerful, as Superjer has foreseen. But I shall not fear the Blackman and his hellatough power of gold-and-chains.

Music plays a major part in film and cinema, in fact, some have argued that the entire emotional context of the scene is established and held though music.

To test this theory for yourself, zip on over to this little site and give it a try:

The premise is simple, an endless loop from Star Wars: Episode 2 plays while you change the music for the scene by clicking on the bar below. Clicking on the short sentence brings up a play list.
Excellent choice, but it will not save you.

I am hereby issuing a challenge to former Forum Soothsayer Nezroomi in the form of a forum dance-off.

The rules are simple: GET YOUR GROOVE ON!

"general_zim" said:
[...]I wanna bowl with the gangstas!

Then here! Wrap your mind around this!
But you brought the hamburgers.

Mmm. Tasty hamburgers.

I think the quintessential essence of Carl (aka Pedobear) can be summed up in this handy motivational poster:

"molkman" said:
I guess, you just didn't know that people are actually saying "Gesundheit!" after sneezing.

Now see here! We'll have none of your Hitler-talk moon-language on our forums. We run a clean ship here, so subern Sie herauf Ihre Tat, bevor der Fhrer dorthin kommt und einen Kuchen auf Ihren Kopf setzt und Sie sein kleines Weibchen bildet!
To reiterate:

NJ, I hope you pay special attention to Rule #3
Much like Vicks VapoEyedrops.

Something Awful writer Zack "Geisteditor" Parsons new book is out this week! Reviews are already calling it "the greatest historical fiction of the past decade," "the finest humor book in recent memory," and "the beneficiary of some of the most wonderful made-up review quotes in history."

There are over 20 amazing inventions in this book, including an atmosphere-skipping super bomber, flying suicide bombers, helicopter backpacks and a ship made entirely out of ice!

If you're interested in war, reading, laughing, and laughing about wars that you're reading about, you'd better head over to Amazon or Barnes and Noble now!

Thou shall NOT utter the secret name of thy lord admin in vain! Such is profane!

Oh well. Looks like he has to grant you three wishes now. Better get started.
Star Fleet Acadamy.

Full contact duck, duck, goose (anything goes. Anything. )
Platoon-style dodge ball (complete with dramatic score and blood ).
Inform yourselves.

This goes double for you, Ribbon.

Im glad I saw the END, because you know, its puts everything into perspective in a Kantian/Hegelian kind of world view.

I can only wonder how people who DIDNT see the END survive in this world, carrying on with their pathetic, meaningless existence with not future or hope of salvation in sight.

Youre done.
"molkman" said:
It's not porn, it's worse.

Something related to pointy?
Dont encourage it, NJ.

Besides, me thinks its milk-makers are a little different than what you might be used to.
You would.

You commie!
(Zim dropped the ball! )

Tits or Ass
"pointy" said:
wow tthat was a big out burst! have you got diabeaties or something aaron?

Well, looks like its that time again, huh Aaronjer.

Fire up your BANsaw, and make a nice T-frame out of that pointy 2x4.

Physical Anthropology or Cultural Anthropology?
As an old friend of mine by the name of Lewis Carroll once said: The forums are an odd sort of country. You see, it takes all the running you can do to keep in the same place. But if you want to get somewhere else, you need not but stand in place.

Simply put, in order to make your title or designation NOT change, psimply stop posting. But in order to change it, you must most more often. The faster you post, the faster it changes. Thus as thus.
Jeez you two, tone down the sarcasm a bit.
Internizzle Bizzle Machizzle, my bitchizzle.

Hipcat or Cool Kitty
"ScewUp" said:
thx for th advice guys

The Helpline thanks you for your patronage.

That will be $14.95, cash or credit.
"CornJer" said:
Game consoles suck.

Exhibit A: The Metal Gear franchise. (Coming to a console near you.)

"general_zim" said:
w00t! Nintendo wii's gonna be awesome[.]

Same place I found this one.

Just joshing ya. Check
If any of you have the slightest shred of humanity and common sense*, you WILL order this book. It may very well change your life.**

*Mr. Ribbon not withstanding.

** Actual results may vary.

The sea is a symphony of color; all round me I am surrounded by its wondrous glory.
And yet there is danger at every turn. She is a fierce and fickle mistress, but also the great unifier.

Now, as never before, the old phrase has a literal meaning: We are all in the same boat. We forget that the water cycle and the life cycle are one.

The happiness of the salmon is to exist. For man it is to know that and to wonder at it.

Hot. Sexy. Hot and Sexy. Uberjer.
No, youre thinking of Sea MonkeysAGAIN.
Thank you.

*Stuffs a twenty in someones G-string.*

Dont spend it all in one place.
"superjer" said:
Stingrays aren't fish. They're "rays".

Actually, both of you are right (or wrong, depending how you look at it. )

Rays are cartilaginous marine fishes, related to skates, sharks, and Mr. Ribbon.

Elect SuperJer as Chancellor of the Internet!
My cat does not accept its slave name.

Instead, it does respond to the tile:

Thrakath nar Kiranka, Fang of Sivar, DESTROYER OF WORLDS!

Do it again!

The whip is mine!
Like the good JMD said, its all a

Patent pending, of course.
Alright, listen up!

Those jerks over at Fortress Forever have launched an insidious plan to make THEIR site the #1 Horse Porn resource on the net. We cannot let this iniquitous action stand. We must meet this threat with the same bravery that that brought to its knees.

And we shall do it, by playing this awesome game, wherein you try to kill the thing that was last posted.Then someone else would post what killed that, and so on and so forth.

1.) Only one picture per post.
2.) Your killer cant be someone you cant kill (a nuclear explosion, for example).
3.) You MUST post a picture in this Fire Truck. If you are incapable of posting the picture, at least post a link to the picture.
4.) No irrelevant posting. If you only post a line or two about how that rokxored or how this idea blows ect, you WILL be forced to pay in spades!

Let us begin with this shmow.

I shall say that he was killed by this sniper.

Now, you try.
(un)Fortunately she dose have an inter-llect, that pearl of E-Wisdom which spawns such nuggets of joy such as: i like to act in u'r films. plz give me a chance in u'r film.U R teh Newbraz! Oneoneeleven!
Oh yeah?

You look rather uncomfortable right now. You could probably use some talcum powder.
It does?
Ah, the god old days of the war between Oceania, Eurasia, and East Asia.

"superjer" said:
Twilite Princess makes me pee myself. [...] And all the old Zelda sounds make me pee somewhat too :P.

Your urinary problems are actually due to Mr. Ribbons closet Heterosexuality. You might want to get that fixed sometime soon.
If you throw a Kosher Jew on a Nazi it produces a chemical reaction similar to vinegar and baking soda. FYI.
Check to make sure you have MicroSoft Office loaded on your PC.

Well then

Guess its about that time.

"superjer" said:

Things are generally not possible.
If ya know what I mean. Eh? Eh?
"Mrs_Hunni_Bunni" said:
i dont know what trojan is...

Danger! The following are all Trojans:

You have been warned.
Ok. So this has nothing to do with power ups, but it has been decided that Raul Julia MUST be a boss (either a level boss or the games main villain).

Seriously, hes like9 feet tall, and exudes a suave, evil aura.
No, Superjer is speaking literally.

-E3 Security Pass
-Heraldic Wooden Crate of Holding
-Bonus Pretzel
-Raccoon City Tail
-Rocket Rifle
-Cardboard Box
-Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free Card
-Sniper Launcher
-Baking soda Bomb
-An Interociter
-Power Waffles
-Mile-High Meringue Pie" (5280 feet straight up)
-Pengi (That scary penguin of yours)
-Pokeball (Which unleashes the stunningly annoying John Agar)
-Captn Cruch Whistle of Doom (Blowing it causes an earth-shattering SHISTO!)

Click in the middle of the D at the end for extra fun good time joys.

He still owes me $2.57 for that lunch at R. J . McGoodtimes.
Hence Poo-Poos score of -287.
I think you forgot the negative. Don't feel bad, it happens all the time.

It should read:
"Big Poop" said:
Happy Holidays!

This is important Pole Socking related material that should also be viewed by all players, current and potential.
Naturejay asserts his mojo. +5 point team bonus!
Team Roster: Enlist Today!

Red Leader = Cammi Falls
Red 01 = Donut
Red One = Servo
Red 2 = Joel
Red 3 = Porkins
Red 9 = Crytax
Red 10 = Hunk_X
Red 12 = Conrad
Red 22 = Grif
Red 42 = Simmons
Red 44 = TVs_Frank
Red 51 = Sarge
Red 1010 = Lopez

Blue Leader = Ilor
Blue 00 = Tex
Blue -1 = Caboose
Blue = Tucker
Blue 2 = Nelson
Blue 8 = CrowTR
Blue 9 = Mikejer
Blue 10 = Omalley
Blue 13 = Church
Blue 22 = NatureJay
Blue 23 = Chainsmoke
Blue 40 = Dr.Forester

Nomad Leader = Amir Clan of the Nomads
Nomad Kapitan = dburnell
Nomen 01 = Lite Nomad
Nomen 02 = Road Mad
Nomen 04 = Lord Humungus
Nomen 09 = Zetta-Gyro
Nomen 13 = Gypsy da Mage
Nomen 14 = Gypsy McKnife
Nomen 19 = Mechanic_Girl
Nomen 21 = Feral Kid
Nomen 30 = Curmudgeon
Nomen 32 = Pappagallo
Nomen 33 = NathanWez
Nomen 47 = Quiet Man
Its really more of an egg.

Giant ostrich eggfull of pantyhose
According to a quotation about Superjer in the Astronomius:

That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange ons, even death may die.

Alright, her face has been bugging me a bit and I now know why:

Currently, she has this weird bunny/cat grin. Perhaps adding a bit more emphasis on her lower lip would lessen this effect, unless that was your original intention.

Also, the nose also looks a bit, uh, animalistic? Might I suggest toying with two additional lines, one running vertical, then the other connecting vertical line top to one of the lower points.

Something like this:

I cite this sexy pic as example ofwell, lots of things.

Of course thats not saying that you cant go with less. Take this pic for example.

Just experiment with different combinations until you find a few looks that seem to fit.

You can do it Aaronjer! Were rooting for you!
Imuh, youfrom the future. Its kinda weird, and a hell of a long story. And dont ask abut the blond hair...Its fucking depressing

Oh. By the way. Though this doesnt mean anything right now, but when you meet a one Windy Roberts, just save time and shoot her in the face. It will save you and everyone else a great deal of time, sweat, and blood in the long run.
Oh Snap, its you. I mean me. I mean Damn space-time altercations.
As some of you may remember, there exists an OLD grilled cheese sandwich (at least 12 years old) which sold on eBay for $28,000, supposedly because it bears the image of the Virgin Mary.

Now, if you ask me, I see the face of Errol Flynn as he was in the staring role of "The Adventures of Robin Hood".

What do you think Jers and Jerets? (Or is that Jertors and Jertrixes? Jerenas?)
Nice 1st attempt. Ayane?

I recommend this site for obvious tips.

This site might also help.

Alternatively, you can watch this sub-par flash feature.

[Photo Unavailable]

Name: Niel Nekantilant Wusabioi
Callsign: dburnell01
Gender: Male
Nationality: Wusabi-jib Nomen Nation
Birthdate: 14th moon
Age: 14 winters
Blood type: O-
Height: 1.73 m (5' 8")
Weight: 76 kg (168 lb)
Fighting Style: Eight Spirits Drunken Fist (Zui Ba Xian Quan)
Occupation: Confederal Chieftain / Team Kaptain
Hobbies: Watching Action Movies, drinking, taking online tests.

Born Niel Nekantilant, of the Wusabi Tribe of Nebraska, he was a young and unassuming Nomen, until destiny put him on a collision course with Superjer.

During his nation-wide tour with the band Soviet Union, Superjer came across the young Nomen. Though the details of the event will remain etched in the mists of lore, it is said that the young Niel challenged Superjer roady NatureJay to a contest of wills.

Naturaly, NatureJay exercised his Will to Power on Niel, taking the form of his patented Hyper-Ultra-Mega Bitch-Smack, a fatal blow in anyones book.

However, the young Niel weathered the onslaught, earning the Nomen title of Diburneloi (Son of Stone). He was then taken under the wing of Amir Clan of the Nomads, first among equals at the Gathering of Clans, and taught in the ancient ways of storm-riding and pole smashing.

Now as at acting Naib (Confederal Chieftain) of the Wusabi Tribe, Dburnell is enters the 6th Annual Pole Socking / Storm Chasing Olympium as team Kaptain in order to find worthy opponents and to test his skills

Name: Ilor
Callsign: Blue Leader / Player #1
Gender: Male
Nationality: Cascadian
Birthdate: NOW BITCHES!
Age: 20 something
Blood type: C+
Height: 1.82 m (6 ft )
Weight: 78 kg (172 ninja lbs)
Fighting Style: Ninjutsu (Mugen Tenshin Style)
Occupation: Bum, Rogue Ninja Instructor
Hobbies: Mountain climbing, fishing, breaking beer bottles, complaining.

Born to become the 18th Master of the Mugen Tenshin Ninja Clan and heir to the Ninja Burger Franchise, Ilor was shortchanged by the nefarious Evil Co. and their head International Super Spy, Eva.

Rending his dreams into so much shredded-wheat, Ilor swore revenge, and struck back at Evil Co. with the help of his ninja comrades. It was during his counterstrike at Evil Co.s Tritower complex that he would meet his life-long nemesis, ChainFight_13. Both escaped the Tritower complex before it burned to the ground, and continued their fight barehanded in a live minefield. Ilor won the battle and escaped the facility, leaving a presumed dead ChainFight behind.

It wasnt until many months later that Ilor and ChainFight would meet again on an old rope bridge spanning the Gocta Waterfall in Peru, where the two contestants met in a deadly duel of swords and fists.

Having vanquished ChainFight, Ilor has once again entered the Pole Socking Olympium in hopes of one day continuing with his quest to rebuild his grandfathers dojo

Name: Cammi Falls
Callsign: Red Leader
Gender: Female
Nationality: Cascadian
Birthdate: April 17th
Age: 20
Blood type: B-
Height: 1.63 m (5 ft 4 in)
Weight: 50 kg (110 lbs)
Measurements BWH: 87 55 86 cm (34 C 22 34 in)
Natural bust?: You better believe it!
Eye color: Blue-Grey
Hair color: Brown
Fighting Style: Tai Chi Quan
Occupation: College Student
Favorite Food(s): Strawberry Millefeuille
Hobbies: Aromatherapy, origami, storm watching.

Spunky, intelligent and cheerful, Cammi Falls is a Cinderella story of one college girl who dared to dream big. The 19-year-old student began practicing martial arts as a means of self-improvement both mentally and physically, and was for a short time under employment by Mr. Ribbon at his secret volcano layer and volleyball resort.

With a strong motivation for self-improvement, Cammi hopes that by honing her own skills, she can eventually help others to do the same. Of course Mr. Ribbon was more than happy to aid in her training, and would often attack Cammi when she least expected it to keep her combat skills and vigilance sharp.

While she has never said whither or not she believes Mr. Ribbon to be an overbearing, well-dressed, white collar psychopath, or whether she merely humors him, one can assume that there is a love-hate relationship between the two, sometimes bordering more on the hate side for Cammi.

Due to the nature of Pole Socking, and Mr. Ribbon himself, Cammi was critically hospitalized near the end of the 5th Olympium where she would remain for months.
However, despite this sidelining, Cammi stands alone as being the only person to best Ribbon in syringe combat, despite being in a coma.

After recovering from her grievous injuries, Cammi went on to successfully commanded over 30 training missions for the Red Team, and won 4 field promotions and 3 commendations.

Today, she returns for the 6th Annual Pole Socking / Storm Chasing Olympium to play a more active part, and discover for herself what the Will to Power really means
This firetruck is designed to honor and expound upon some of the major players in Pole Socking and Storm Chasing.
Team Roster: Enlist Today!

Red Leader = Cammi Falls
Red 01 = Donut
Red One = Servo
Red 2 = Joel
Red 10 = Hunk_X
Red 12 = Conrad
Red 22 = Grif
Red 42 = Simmons
Red 44 = TVs_Frank
Red 51 = Sarge
Red 1010 = Lopez

Blue Leader = Ilor
Blue 00 = Tex
Blue -1 = Caboose
Blue = Tucker
Blue 2 = Nelson
Blue 8 = CrowTR
Blue 9 = Mikejer
Blue 10 = Omalley
Blue 13 = Church
Blue 23 = Gipsy
Blue 40 = Dr.Forester

Nomad Leader = dburnell
Nomen 02 = Road Mad
Nomen 04 = Lord Humungus
Nomen 09 = Zetta-Gyro
Nomen 19 = Mechanic_Girl
Nomen 21 = Feral Kid
Nomen 30 = Curmudgeon
Nomen 32 = Pappagallo
Nomen 33 = NathanWez
Nomen 47 = Quiet Man


It's that guy...

Hey, while your here Smokie, sign up for some Pole Socking!
As long as youre IQ is pushing 90, I think youll be fine
Silly Swede

Try useing this site.

Just flip the newb switch and Elvis Presto! there you go.
Dont worry about it.

The IQ tests you're given as a child are a bit of a joke, as ones intelligence quotient is a number derived from a set of standardized tests developed to measure a person's cognitive abilities in relation to their AGE GROUP.

One should remember that an IQ test does not measure intelligence the way a ruler measures height (absolutely), but rather the way a race measures speed (relatively); IQ is described as a quotient because, originally, it represented the ratio between a person's mental age and actual chronological age.

For better or worse, I still like to go by the results I was given as a child. A whacked-out child with ADD (now called ADHD), mind you.


Moth'a Fu'kin Savory SPAM Oven Roasted Turkey Mega-Muffins!!!
4 eggs
2 cups cream
1 6-oz. package cornbread stuffing mix
1 12-oz. can SPAM Oven Roasted Turkey, cut into 1/2" cubes
1/2 cup sweetened dried cranberries

Cooking Directions:
Heat oven to 350. Combine eggs and cream in a large bowl. Add stuffing mix, SPAM and cranberries. Stir until evenly mixed. Allow to set for 5 minutes. Spoon mixture into a greased mega-muffin tin. Bake for 25-30 minutes or until set and not tacky when lightly touched in center. Allow to set for 5-10 minutes before serving.
Just like pole socking

Halflife Franchise + Halo Franchise + Aaronjer =

"dburnell01" said:
Mario [pwned] that bastard sonic.

I think it was more of a case of corporate incompetence which lead to a corporate takeover.

Still, in the future we might just see Sonic in I dont know Super Smash Brothers 25? Then we can finally see Sonic and Mario officially have it out.

Personally, my moneys on Mario beating his furry blue ass.

But I think Mario and Mega Man need to be keep a world apart, much like Star Trek and Star Wars.
I think Dee likes crowbars or something....

Here, try some Or'ngette Coleman that I got from the BeBoop Cola machine over there.

You want intro music, I cite Megaman 4 and 8.

As for Geminiman and his level....


NOUN: 1. A constellation in the Northern Hemisphere containing the stars Castor and Pollux. Also called Twins. 2a. The third sign of the zodiac in astrology. Also called Twins. b. Inflected forms: pl. Geminis
One who is born on the Colony of Geminon

ETYMOLOGY: Proto-Indo-European *yem- 'to pair'

But remember HB, I have your husband hostage.

[Pictured: KITTY! Not pictured: Superjer in pirate outfit.]
"Mrs_Hunni_Bunni" said:
free??? damn u!!

Yup. She's without a doubt worth her weight in gold.

There! Is that short enough for your illiterate sorry ass? You stupid git!
Seriously! You bitches arent signing up fast enough!
The 14th annual Pole Socking / Storm Chasing Olympium is just around the corner!


As it stands, Ninja Fred Ilor Gallagher is Captain of Blue Team, and SoG Dee 0-1 Burnell (aka Naib Niel Nekantilant )is Confederal Chieftain of the Wusabi Tribe of Nebraskan Nomen.

CRA NatureJay Your equipment is within legal standards. Just be sure to have it peace-bonded and checked out with an official before the pre-game ceremonies. However, you still need to pick a team. If you can not afford a team*, this council will appoint on your behalf.

*The entry fee is 2 dollars American or 3 sleeves of Oreos. Checks are payable to:

Pole Socking / Storm Chasing
411 Danger Ln.
State OG, 30307






Carry on about your business.
"dburnell01" said:
Look at all our religions, Christianity, Islam, Scientology (if thats not a cult).

Seriously, WHO could possible believe an alternative to psychology (*cough brain-washing cult cough*) that was created by a crappy SciFi novelist that doesnt try to hide the fact.
Who are you?


You always did find movies,
That where truly bad.

Movies like this one,
Are perfect examples of,
Films that shouldnt be.

Shamelessly stealing
Battlestar Galactica
Footage for itself

With bad acting and
A incomprehensible
Script. Mother Bitches!

I hope everyone
Responsible for this film
Dies horribly soon.
That's hot!

But Ebaum is a stupid git. Good thing Somethingawful took care of his scrawny ass, just like
To the gulag with him!!!!

Goddamned furries
Not so.
Just the other day I saw him in his Pimpmobile-9000 cruzin the hood with no less than 4 bitches, and blaring ICP from his solid gold subwoofers.
Real smooth...

Everyone knows of the Grate Zombie Apocalypse of 65 (sometimes called the Zombie Plague) which lasted from 1865-1905.

It was all started by Dr. Thomas N. Holmes, the man responsible of creating embalming fluids, who received a commission from the Army Medical Corps to embalm the corpses of dead Union officers during the First American Civil War to return to their families.

Dr. Thomas Holmes is notable for perfecting embalming during this time. The embalming fluid he used was arsenic. While arsenic is deadly to living beings, it is a near-perfect preservative of non-viable human flesh. When preparing deceased soldiers, physicians first buried the soldier, then notified family, then disinterred and embalmed the soldier with a hand pump, and then shipped him home. It was soon discovered that relatives would pay well for the return of officers, so the procurement of officers' bodies became an issue of conflict between the good doctors.

This practice soon spread like wildfire, as various medical practitioners literally fought each other to the death over corpses to embalm.

Dr. Thomas N. Holmes embalmed 4,028 bodies himself before one of his rivals killed him with a steam locomotive. Many of his last jobs, like those of his rivals, where improperly embalmed, and as a result, the dead rose from their respective graves to wander the land in search of meaning, adventure, and brains.

It was only through the actions of Laurence Kennedy and Julius Ashford that the world was saved from this menace.

So you fools best be respectin.
...Where's my Pr0n?
You know, when comes to bullshit, and I mean big time, major league bullshit, you have to stand in awe of the all time champion of false promises and exaggerated claims...


No contest. Religion easily has the greatest bullshit story of all time ever told. Think about it. Religion has actually convinced people that there is an invisible man living in the sky who watches everything you do of every minute of everyday. And this invisible man has a special list of 10 things he does not want you to do! And if you do ANY of these 10 things he has a sepcial place full of fire, smoke, burning, anguish, and torture where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and scream and choke and cry forever and ever UNTIL THE END OF TIME!!!

But he loves you.

He loves you. He loves you and he needs money!!

He always needs money! Hes all powerful, all perfect, and all wise but somehow... just cant handle money!

Religion takes in billions of dollars, pays no taxes, and always needs a little more. Now, you talk about a good bullshit story. HO-LY SHIT!

But I want you to know, and this is true, when it comes to believing in God, I really tried. I really tried to believe that there is a God who created us in his own image and likeness, loves us very much, and keeps a close eye on things. But, I have to tell you. The longer you life, the longer you look around and realize, something is fucked up. Something is wrong here. War, disease, death, destruction, hunger, filth, poverty, crime, corruption, and Disney... something is definitely wrong. This is not good work. If this is the best God can do, I am not impressed. Results like these do not belong on the rsum of a supreme being. This is the kind of shit youd expect from an office temp with a bad attitude.

Just between you and me, in any decently run universe this guy would have been out on his all powerful ass a long time ago. And by the way, because I say this guy, that I firmly believe that if there is a God, it has to be a guy. No woman could or would fuck things up like this. So, if... if, there is a God, I think most reasonable people might agree that if there is a God, hes at least incompetent and maybe... just maybe... doesnt give a shit... which I admire in a person and would explain a lot of these bad results.

So, rather than be just another mindlessly and blindly religious robot and believing that all of this is in the hands of some spooky incompetent father figure who doesnt give a shit, I decided to look around for something else to worship, something I could really count on, and immediately, I thought of the sun.

Happened like that, over night I became a sun worshiper. Well... not over night... you cant see the sun at night, so THE FIRST THING NEXT MORNING, I became a sun worshiper.

Several reasons: 1st of all, I can see the sun. Unlike some other Gods I could mention, I can actually see the sun. Im big on that. If I can see something, I dunno, it kind of helps the creditability along, ya know? So, everyday I can see the sun as it gives me everything I need: Light, warmth, food, flowers in the park, reflections on the lake, an occasional skin cancer... but hey. At least there are no crucifixions and were not setting people on fire simply because they dont agree with us.

Sun worship if fairly simple. Theres no miracles, no mystery, no pageantry, no one asks for money, theres no songs to learn, and we dont have a special building that we gather in once a week to compare clothing. And the best thing, the very best thing, it never tells me Im unworthy. It never tells me Im a bad person. It hasnt said an unkind word, it treats me fine. So, I worship the sun.

But, I dont pray to the sun. Ya know why? I wouldnt presume on a friendship. Its not polite.

Ive often thought that people treat God rather rudely. Dont you? Always asking for something. Trillions and Trillions of prays everyday, asking and pleading, do this and do that... I need a new car... I want a better job. And most of the praying takes place on Sunday, his day off. Its not nice and its no way to treat a friend. But people do pray and they pray for a lot of different things. And I say, fine... pray for whatever you want.

But, what about the Devine Plan? Remember that, the Devine plan? Long time ago, God made a Devine Plan, gave it a lot of thought and it was a good plan and he put it into practice. And for billions and billions of years the Devine Plan has been doing just fine, now... suppose the thing you want isnt in Gods Devine Plan? What do you want him to do? Chance his plan? Just for you? Doesnt that seem a little arrogant? Its a Devine Plan! Whats the use of being God if your average Johnny McBusspass with a $2.00 pray book can come along and fuck up your plan?

Lets say dont get the thing that you want. What do you do? Say, "Its Gods will. Thy will be done". Fine, but if its his will and hes going to do what he wants to anyway, why the fuck bother praying in the first place? It seems like a big waste of time to me... cant you just skip the praying part and go straight to his will? Its all very confusing.

Obviously, sometimes I get what I want, sometimes I dont. Same thing as the 4 leaf clover, the horse shoe, the wishing well, the Mojo Man, the rabbits foot, and the voodoo lady that tells you your fortune by squeezing the goats testicles. Its all the same, 50/50.

So, just pick your superstition, make a wish, sit back, and enjoy yourself.
Ah that tears it!

You can take your SoaP and shove it!

ADJECTIVE: Of or relating to Scorpia, one the 12 Colonies of Kobol,
of its people, language, or culture.
Normally Id say LOLocaustBut this film was offensive enough.

It reminds me of JackSmokes one saving grace: He never once stopped trying to fuck Hitler in the ass
Well, I give you points for effort. However, your shady workmanship, combined with such an excruciatingly long Pokemon clip, you simultaneously loose your Effort points, and any XP you may have gotten since the last save point.

Normally your kind would be sent to the gulag do 200-to-life, but since I come from a more enlightened age, you and your Tyrael avatar shall be striped of our privileges AND the Gracing Song, and be banished to the Middle World to fight Aaronjer, who is now a giant Hell-spawning daemon.

He should look something like this:

[NOTE: Actual Aaronjer may vary. Some settling of contents due to shipment.]
Make Citra your religion, and declare a Jihad on thirst.
*Performs a Nuclear Tackle on Taters.*
Big deal. I do that all the time without TFC.
Calm down Ms. Bunny-Honny. We all know who and what you are.

Besides, everyone knows that they're really called Bipedal Elastic Penis Receptacles.
"dburnell01" said:

I'm telling...
How about this one?


Byatch, please. TK-454 has no time for those man-hos.

No thanks. They give him the runs.
JMD, here are your orders for the day:

I just bought the new .50 Cent CD and I think hes worth at least a $1.98.

Lets increase his street value, shall we?
Superjer!? Dont run out in front of me like that.

The Nomads (called Nomen in their native tongue), known collectively known as the The Clan of the Nomads, is a confederation of tribes that make up one of the largest nation-less ethnic groups in the world, and are one of the very few groups that successfully fended off colonial powers in the early 1900s.

Nomad tribes have no chiefs, leaders, or headmen. While the elder members generally inherit privileges to waterhole locations for the use of their extended families and friends, there are no wholly dominant figures in Nomad societies. Instead of having leaders, the Nomads pool together the ideas and the energy of all members, whether they be male or female, young or old. Their traditional political organization has become a classic example of an indigenous anarchist political structure without a single leader or leader group.

Being hunter-gatherers, the Nomads do not live in a fixed, unchanging society but on the contrary in one that is constantly re-tuning itself to new conditions. The nomadic nature of the Nomads enables their tribal communities to change and re-shape easily over time. For example, elder children who find themselves in conflict with their parents often leave to spend time with a relative in another camp. The act of visiting friends and family in other locations becomes an important yearly, if not monthly, activity for Nomad adults.

Perhaps the most fascinating activity of the Nomads is that of tracking. Many adult Nomads possess a very fine-tuned ability to interpret information about the activities of living things through the physical patterns of movement recorded on plants and in the sand. This skill is so highly developed in expert Nomad hunters that they can correctly guess the species, gender, age, physical state, and mental state of an animal just by the tracks that it leaves behind.

The Nomads are organized into sietches. Each sietch has a naib, whose word is law unless someone is willing to challenge him for leadership. The Fremen practice polygamy, apparently as a means of pinpointing male infertility. Each sietch has a sayyadina, a wise woman who serves as the acolyte of a Nomads.

The Nomad system of justice always relies ultimately on trial by combat. The naib of the tribe is someone who killed the previous naib in single combat. Anyone may challenge another in a duel to the death over matters of etiquette, law, or honor; the winner of the duel is responsible for the wife, children, and certain possessions of the loser, as well as the right of the circumstances leading to the duel.

Water Conservation
The most notable custom of the Nomads is their water conservation. Living in the desert with no natural sources of water has spurred the Nomads to build their society around the collection, storage, and conservative use of water. Because of their culture's focus on water conservation, it is generally considered a great sign of respect (though often interpreted otherwise) for a Nomad to spit before a person.

The basis of nomads economics rests on the concepts of reliance on many as opposed to self-sufficiency of one; and cooperation as opposed to competition. The Nomads are utterly dependent on each other as well as on the energy flows & material cycles that take place around them. Paradoxically, it is through this dependence that they achieve freedom from the pursuit for wealth.
It has already been noted that Nomads do not accumulate materials. Instead, their culture relies upon knowledge which is passed down as well as upon intelligence which is collected and constantly updated.

Naming conventions
Nya (nee ya) is the standard prefix used for female names
Children are commonly numbered
Niel means rain, and is a common name for males.
The father's family name is incorporated into the child's full name

Facial Markings
The Nomads receive facial markings (called gaar) as part of their initiation into adulthood. While the pattern of scarification varies within specific subgroups, one common initiation pattern consists of six parallel horizontal lines across the forehead, with dip in the lines above the nose. Dotted patterns are also common.

Current Events
Because of the Global Civil War, many Nomads have emigrated abroad to. Approximately 20,000 Nomads were resettled in the United States as refugees since the early 1990s, with many now residing in Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota, Tennessee, Georgia, and many other states.
"echiddy chizzle" said:
what if god doesnt exist?

Where has God gone? I shall tell you.

We have killed him - you and I.

We are his murderers. But how have we done this? How were we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What did we do when we unchained the earth from its sun? Do we not hear anything yet of the noise of the gravediggers who are burying God? Do we not smell anything yet of God's decomposition? Gods too decompose.

God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves?
Who will wipe this blood off us? With what water could we purify ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we need to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we not ourselves become gods simply to be worthy of it?

Simply put, if one doubts, if even for just a moment, of the existence of Godthen God ceases to exist, and thus dies.

Hence, God is dead.

TK-454 is fucking LOST!
"Jet Monkey Duo" said:
It's CALLED sovjet yumen

I think you mean to say: Sovetskiy Soyuz
Lest you plan to bring another zombie apocalypse down upon us all.

Besides, God is dead. Try this little number: Dr Karl explains the pharmacological way to make a zombie.
"Mr. Ribbon" said:
You guys? I just had this dream where (on TV) somebody named Tito took over the Pokemon franchise and changed the name to Tokemon.

What? You mean this guy?
Hes an old friend.
"aaronjer" said:
The Jews justify racism, they can all go to antarctica and die in a fire. The cannibal rituals of the Antarctican empire should take care of them all.

Looks like both where taken care of by my assault during WWW1.

Wait, my bad! It was the Mormons. Silly me.
"NatureJay" said:
Good Food
Good Drink
Good God.

So say we all!
NatureJay was exercising his Will to Power, a fundamental power that exists within everyone.

What dburnell01 witnessed was merely his perception* of it.

(*Perception and pain being subjectively one and the same)
"dburnell01" said:
Has anyone read HP Lovecraft

I <3 Lovecraft. Shadow over Innsmouth for me.
"NatureJay" said:
eh, you know what, I don't care. 's long as he pays attention, he'll be okay.

"dburnell01" said:
I am on the other team! Im going to be one of those vicious nomads!


You're on the team.
"Ilor" said:
(JackSmoke,) your a filthy lie.

He is. And I can prove it.

"a_banana" said:
IRELAND is a myth i think

Not so. I found a satellite picture of Ireland.

You can clearly see it in the mid-Atlantic, bearing the ancient Greek name.
What is good?
All that heightens the feeling of power in man, the will to power, power itself.

What is bad?
All that is born of weakness.

What is happiness?
The feeling that power is growing, that resistance is overcome.
My Three Tenets:

Good Thoughts
Good Words
Good Deeds

Thats all you need.

As you can see from this picture, the last party Aaaronjer hosted got out of hand when JackSmoke accidentally stuffed himself into an already over full washing machine in the Laundromat on the floor above.

The end results where . . .tragic.
"Ilor" said:
oo oo I wanna be ref can I be ref I wanna be the ref.


"Ilor" said:
..and the blue comander....PLEASE!!!!

SIGNUP: The 14th annual Pole Socking / Storm Chasing Olympium for Spring of 2006.
Its so simple, a JackSmoke or ChainFight could handle it.
Simple list your Name/Callsign, position and number wished, and team affiliation.

Red Blue Other

Also, a declaration of any unconventional weapons/equipment/fireworks is needed to insure a balanced and fair game.



Not only Have I returned, but I have returned to help organize the 14th annual Pole Socking / Storm Chasing Olympium for Spring of 2006. Signup sheets are available in your local sauna.

"NatureJay" said:
Borges would suggest it's the universal subconscious.

I think it relates to Carl Jungs theory of the Unus Mundus.

Its used to describe a state beyond this world where every contradiction in physics, like synchronicity and the EPR Paradox, can be explained. A place where every relationship, such as that of the mind to mind, or mind to matter, can also make sense.
"aaronjer" said:
I thought about "fuzzy cleavage."

"Jet Monkey Duo" said:


What are some books about storm chasing? There aren't many books which deal primarily, or even devote significant space to, storm chasing; and some may be out of print. A few titles are provided below. [NOTE: This FAQ doesn't endorse any of these tomes; however, they have been deemed informative and beneficial by many in the community.]

1. Richter, Benard: In the Shadow of the Beast: Stories and Adventures from Five Years Inside the Heart of a Tornado. Gilko-Nono Publishing, ISBN: 097493434187.

2. Blusein, Wilber: Storm Alley: Monsters of the Great Plains. Oxford Univ. Press, ISBN: 0194102423.

3.Fairadey, Warren: Storm Chaser: In Pursuit! Independent Publishers Group, ISBN: 19287323020.

4.Werkat, Arjuna and Jarred: Chaser: Everything You Wanted to Know About Tornadoes but Didn't! Whirlwind Books, ISBN: 0828133714.

What equipment is commonly taken on storm chases?
The variety of chase equipment is almost limitless; however, some of the same basic components can be found in most chasers' vehicles. Besides cameras and camcorders, basic gear can include: 2-meter and/or weather radios, scanners, miniature TVs, microcassette recorders, first-aid kits, state and national road atlases, plastic bags, batteries, extra hub caps, videotapes, 3 condoms, a rubber chicken, and a lucky banjo. Many chasers have onboard PCs or laptops, cellular phones, GPS tracking, two-way radios (for communicating with other vehicles of a caravan), power adapters and splitters, anemometers, thermometers and hygristors, window-mounting camera brackets, built-in camera holders, and much more.

Where do most storm chasers go?
The hub of activity is in central and western Oklahoma, into parts of northwest Texas and the eastern Texas Panhandle. This area has by far the most tornadoes per unit area on the planet; and it also tends to have open spaces for good viewing at a distance. Kansas and eastern Colorado are also favored for the same reasons. Some chasers venture further north into Nebraska and South Dakota during the late spring and early summer months, when the climatological trend of severe thunderstorms shifts northward. There are regional storm chasers from coast to coast, and even in a few other countries.

When is chasing done?
Severe storms are most common in the central and southern Plains -- where viewing is best -- during the spring period. March storms often lack much instability or move too fast to chase effectively. April brings some of the first chasable weather, and by May the storms are usually moving slowly enough and instability is at its peak. This continues into the first half of June; but afterwards, the wind fields tend to weaken in the central and southern Plains and the best supercell activity shifts into the northern Plains. Some chasers go to Colorado in July to chase hailstorms and so-called "landspout" tornadoes, which are fairly common there during that month. Overall, the last half of May is statistically the best time to chase. A small secondary peak (within a week or two) of chaseable severe weather sometimes occurs in the Plains in late September or early October.

What do storm chasers drive? What are the best storm chasing vehicles?
All Storm Chasers utilize customized equipment, and vehicles are no exception. Four-wheel drive SUVs (Broncos, Explorers, Durangos) are the most popular among many chasers for their ability to handle wet, slippery conditions as well as dirt, gravel, mud, landmines, and 44mm shells; although they do have fuel mileage and expense burdens. More frugal chasers may be seen in older sedans or even compact cars. For chasing purposes, small cars (Civics, Celicas, Escorts) generally have great mileage, but get cramped after long hauls with people and equipment; and they are less safe in the event of a class-B 13-car pileup. Some chasers use large late-model sedans (Caprices, Crown Vics) for their durability, long-distance comfort, roominess and superior safety; but such cars are also relatively low-mileage and lack four-wheel drive capabilities. Pickups are generally popular choices for Wind Surfers, but offer little protection in combat.
The variety of storm chasing vehicles is great; and there have been some very unusual and legendary ones, like The Elwood, a 1974 Dodge Monaco sedan. Used extensively by the Mt. Prospect Police Department, the 74 Dodge Monaco had a cop motor, cop tires, cop suspensions, cop shocks, a 440-cubic-inch plant, and was made before catalytic converters so it runs good on regular gas. This vehicle is capable of reaching 120 miles per hour (nearly 200 km/h) on city streets and country roads, a testament to the Monaco's police car heritage.

How important is good vehicle maintenance and care? The vehicle is the most important piece of equipment; and maintaining it properly is extremely critical to chase success. That is, unless one enjoys standing beside an overheated, steaming heap of junk, in the middle of Motley County, Texas, 20 miles from the nearest town while a big supercell recedes off into the distance. And we all know a thing or two about Texans . . .

Besides the mere annoyance of being stranded away from the action, breakdowns can cause chasers to lose control of their car or become stuck in a dangerous area of the storm. Chase vehicles don't have to look good; but they must run at peak performance. This means checking and changing all fluids and filters at the manufacturer's recommended intervals, along with all the tune-ups, tire rotations, tire changes and other check-ups for which car owners are responsible. [Any chaser unfamiliar with his/her vehicle is [i]irresponsible, Mikejer.]

Always stow plenty of emergency supplies on board for safety and rudimentary repairs. Such supplies can include: flat tire inflation spray, a small fire extinguisher, a properly inflated spare tire (in case of uninflatable flats), screwdrivers and wrenches compatible with the car's parts, reactive armor plating, a road flare, flashlight with spare batteries, motor oil, coolant, transmission and power steering fluids, brake fluid, Pia Colada mix, extra wiper blades, jumper cables, extra hub caps, spare belts and hoses, hose repair kits and/or suitable tape, extra headlights and tail lamps, and a tow chain.

At least one chaser on every crew should be familiar with making basic emergency auto repairs.

What is the appeal of storm chasing?
What is good? All that heightens the feeling of power in man, the will to power, power itself. What is bad? All that is born of weakness. What is happiness? The feeling that power is growing, that resistance is overcome.
Storm chasing is most accurately compared to a memorable vacation. Take all the photographs you want, but there is simply no way to convey the fun, adventure, and challenge of intercepting storms through photographs. Chasing is a deep allure, a singular connection with nature's power, something not completely describable with words. It's manifest in fleeting moments of sensory magic, snapshots of time remembered for life: standing in the middle of nowhere under the full moon, entranced by a sparkling storm tower while a haunting rock ballad plays through the car stereo.

Who were the first storm chasers?
According to legend, the first Storm Chaser was Cherokee war-chief TalSet, who utilized his mystic knowledge to pioneer the Spirit-Wave Doppler.
Historically, Pecos Wild Bill is believed to be the first person who actively hunted for severe thunderstorms and tornadoes - in the upper Midwest in the late 1840s. Now everyone in the West knows that Pecos Bill could ride anything. No bronco could throw him, no sir! Fact is, I only heard of Bill getting' throwed once in his whole career as a cowboy. Yep, it was that time he was up Kansas way and decided to ride him a tornado.
Now Bill wasn't gonna ride jest any tornado, no ma'am. He waited for the biggest gol-durned tornado you ever saw. It was turning the sky black and green, and roaring so loud it woke up the farmers away over in China. Well, Bill jest grabbed that there tornado, pushed it to the ground and jumped on its back. The tornado whipped and whirled and sidewinded and generally cussed its bad luck all the way down to Texas. Tied the rivers into knots, flattened all the forests so bad they had to rename one place the Staked Plains. But Bill jest rode along all calm-like, give it an occasional jab with his spurs.
Finally, that tornado decided it wasn't getting this cowboy off its back no-how. So it headed west to California and jest rained itself out. Made so much water it washed out the Grand Canyon. That tornado was down to practically nothing when Bill finally fell off. He hit the ground so hard it sank below sea level. Folks call the spot Death Valley.

What is "core punching," and is it risky?
Sometimes, the shortest route between the chaser and the target is a straight line, regardless of potential property damage.

Is night chasing a problem?
Night chasing is an easy danger to avoid if you simply quit chasing at twilight. Only the most experienced chasers remain active at night. Night chasing is like core punching, in that it requires extreme vigilance, awareness of winds and storm behavior, and experience to avoid downbursts, hail shafts, and tornadic circulations. Even some very experienced and respected chasers have almost lost their lives to tornadoes, floods, unexpected severe wind, animals in the road, and lightning while roaming the roads after dark.

How much of a hazard is wildlife and livestock on a chase?
Enough to kill as Storm Chaser Gordon B. Shtinkly found out the hard way.

What is chaser convergence? A chase crowd?
Storm chasers, many of whom know each other through their shared interest and previous encounters in the field, often meet while waiting for convective development, safely parked off a remote stretch of road in the inflow region of a storm, or in some 24-hour diner at 11 pm after the end of a long chase day. That is "chaser convergence," a friendly but safe event. Much different are "chase crowds," unpleasant and often hazardous accumulations of people (many of whom are thrill seeking locals with camcorders) on the roads near a storm. Chase crowds are commonly characterized by unsafe behavior, such as parking in traffic lanes, placing equipment in roadways, blindly pulling back into traffic, and general inability to get the fuck out of the way.

What is a "storm chase bust"?
Simply put, when a man loves a women.

Isn't there some hot debate about commercialization of storm chasing? Definitely...and the arguments have raged for several years, especially since the advent of Usenet and the World Wide Web opened the Internet to mass debate forums. There is little doubt on all sides that storm chasing was heavily influenced during the 1990s through video sales and publicity. For more, please see "A Cancer Within" by Rich Thompson and Roger Edwards.

The Socking Pole: Traditionaly carved from branches or trunks of ceader or rustic pine, most socking mallets and maces today are made of laminated wood or synthetic material, with either a stainless steel or brass hammer head or flanged mace.

There are no official specifications regulating size, weight or construction of the pole; they are as individual as the user. Usually lances are 6 feet to 7 feet in length, with poles being 7 feet to 8 feet. Many players have their poles custom-made to 6 feet 9 inches so they can be used to measure the height of goal rings and drive-throughs from the ground when adjusting an official course.

The weight of the hammer is also a matter of individual preference. The average pole weighs about 5 to 7 pounds. Some players prefer lightweight mallets and have found that professional pool cues with added metal points will weigh only about 1 to 2 pounds. On the other end of the scale are players who prefer much heavier hammer (12 to 15 pounds) to increase stability in the face of wind resistance. Arm strength and comfort levels determine the ideal weight for each individual.

Today's modern lathes can turn stainless steel into smooth, non-rusting precision points fine enough to allow even a 1/4 inch ring to slide back several inches. Many socking poles and hammers are also fitted with a center coupling joint so the mallet can be separated and fitted into a convenient traveling box.

The Socking Ball: The ball must be made of solid rubber and can be white, yellow or orange. The ball is 7.75 - 8 inches in circumference and 5 - 5.25 ounces. It is used in similar respects to the snitch in Quidditch.

The Helmet: A protective helmet, equipped with face mask, chin pad and a cupped four point chin strap fastened to all four hookups, must be worn by all players. All helmets and face masks must be NOCASE (National Operating Committee on Athletic Standards for Equipment) approved.

The Mouthpiece: While the mouthpiece is entirely optional, it must be a highly visible color.

Protective Equipment: All players, with the exception of the goalkeeper, must wear shoulder pads. Arm pads and rib pads are also strongly recommended and often required, as are athletic equipment and post-apocalyptic stylized clothing. The goalkeeper is required to wear a throat protector and chest protector, in addition to a helmet, mouthpiece and gloves.

Attacker: The attacker's responsibility is to score goals. The attackers generally restrict their play to the offensive end of the field. A good attackman demonstrates excellent pole work with both hands and is quick to maneuver around the goal. Each team should have at least three attackers on the field during play.

Midfielder: The midfielder's responsibility is to cover the entire field, playing both offense and defense. The midfielder is a key to the transition game, and is often called upon to clear the ball from defense to offense. A good midfielder demonstrates good pole work including throwing, catching, scooping, plowing, and smashing. Speed and stamina are essential. Each team should have three midfielders on the field.

Defender: The defenseman's responsibility is to defend the goal. The defenseman generally restricts his play to the defensive end of the field. A good defenseman should be able to react quickly in game situations. Agility and aggressiveness are necessary, but great stick work is not essential to be effective. Each team should have at least three defensemen on the field.

Goalie: The goalie's responsibility is to protect the home pole and stop the opposing team from socking it. A good goalie also leads the defense by reading the situation and directing the defensemen to react. A good goalie should have excellent hand/eye coordination and a strong voice. Quickness, agility, confidence and the ability to concentrate are also essential. Each team has one goalie in the goal during play.
Native American History of Pole Socking

By Fredric Wenom
Author of American Indian Games: Little Cousin of War

Though now a highly renown and respected sport, Pole Socking actually has its origins as one of many varieties of indigenous stickball games played by Native Americans at the time of European contact. Early data from missionaries such as French Jesuits in Huron country in the 1630s and English explorers, such as Jonathan Carver in the mid-eighteenth century Great Lakes area, are scant and often conflicting. They inform us mostly about team size, equipment used, the duration of games and length of playing fields but tell us almost nothing about pole handling, game strategy, or the rules of play. The oldest surviving poles date only from the first quarter of the nineteenth century. Jeff Beers provided good information on Mohawk playing techniques in his Lapolea (1869), while Kirk Munay in the Philosophical Anthropologist (1890) described in detail the "[Eastern] Cherokee pole-game," including its legendary basis, elaborate rituals, and the rules and manner of play, as well as the practices of wind riding.

Apart from its recreational function, Pole Socking traditionally played a more serious role in Native American culture. Its origins are rooted in legend, and the game continues to be used for curative purposes and surrounded with ceremony. Game equipment and players where ritually prepared by conjurers, and team selection and victory was often considered supernaturally controlled. In the past, pole-socking also served to vent aggression, and territorial disputes between tribes were sometimes settled with a game, although not always amicably. A Creek versus Choctaw game around 1790 to determine rights over the beaver pond satellite relay broke out into a violent battle when the Creeks were declared winners. Still, while the majority of the games ended peaceably, much of the ceremonialism surrounding their preparations and the rituals required of the players were identical to those practiced before departing on the warpath.

A number of factors led to the demise of pole-socking in many areas by the late nineteenth century. Wagering on games had always been integral to Native American community involvement, but when betting and violence saw an increase as traditional culture was eroding, it sparked opposition to pole-socking from government officials and missionaries. The games were felt to interfere with church attendance and the wagering to have an impoverishing effect on the Indians. When Oklahoma Choctaw began to use their poles as skull-crackers around 1900, the game was outright banned.

Pole Socking was rediscovered by an Irish cod fishermen named Bryon OMcGee (1911~1999), renown for his habit of steering his ship into oncoming storms utilizing his unique tactics and skills, and thus reaping the fishing bounty denied other fishermen. According to popular belief, after he settled down in the Montreal area, OMcGee came across an ancient tomb called the Necroteuch in the local library. The Book depicted German observations of the ancient sport before the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War. Taking the research data from the book, and combining his own experiences, OMcGee founded The Fighting Montreal Storm-Sockers. This event marked the rebirth and merger of the two ancient sports of Pole Socking and Storm Chasing, and has made them two of the fastest growing sports worldwide.

Pole Socking is the thing to do,
And it doesn't hurt to have a low I.Q.
. . .
Pole Socking 'll quench your danger thirst.
The stupid ones always seem to come in first.
. . .
Pole Socking is one big bash,
The favorite sport of cheap white trash.
. . .
Better get with the sport, 'cause it won't last long
The founders of the sport are laid at Forest Lawn.

-Battle Hymn of the Socker

It is I, the man once known as Dr. Salines Cryson.

Years ago, I left this forum and went into the mountains to enjoy the world spirit and my solitude. Finally I became weary of my wisdom, like the bee that has gathered too much honey; I needed hands outstretched to take it from me. I wish to spread it and bestow it, until the wise have once more become joyous in their folly, and the poor happy in their riches.

Thus I rose from the ashes like the Phoenix, a changed man.

When I returned, I served in the Atlantic Theater fighting the Antarctican Empire during the Great Superjer Web World War (WWW1).

I served as Commander of the submersible carrier CSS Kaze Maru with the 5th Division, Special Aquatic Air Force (SAAF). After three weeks of fighting the Antarctican Nationalists and the Army of Chiron, I was able to lead the charge that penetrated the Antarctics secret passages, thus drawing away the bulk of the enemy forces that would have hindered Superjers Pacific Fleet.

Now, after many moons, I return to the Forums.

* * * * *

I shall impart my learned wisdom upon the masses: Be sure to stay tuned for future posts regarding the rules, regulations, and team scores of both Pole Socking and Storm Chasing.

Now with a new ending by superjer...

When I was a younger, no larger than a crate full of Chinese spiders, I lived my life by a sort of miniature Bushido code. This code involved asking myself a simple question: What would SuperJer do in a situation like this? That's when I would find the moral and mental certainty to complete any task looming before me. Yes, I would say to myself, SuperJer wants me to give it my all, no matter what kind of pitfalls or exploding barrels block the path to success.

Things were a lot easier back then. My faith was solid. Then one day heard the terrible news: SuperJer had been captured. This rocked my soul to its very foundations, as did the charge from Confed High Command, ordering me to find and rescue him.

Back then I had only one thing to fear: failing SuperJer. What would the repercussions be if SuperJer died because of my shortcomings, or broke under interrogation and surrendered his sweet succulent wisdom to the enemy, all because I didnt get to him in time? Surely he was valuable to the cause, since they would not mount a rescue mission of this magnitude were he just some expendable grunt. No, SuperJer had to be well, SUPER! He had to be a hero of true grit, a living monument to the awesome potential that exists within all of us to overcome adversity. There was no reason to doubt SuperJer, just as there was no reason to doubt the decision to send me to rescue him.

As the days went by, and as I worked my way through the dangerous obstacles life through at me, I began to question the superiority of SuperJer. It was childish frustration at first, mind you, but the questions remained regardless of their infantile origin. In fact, these questions grew up themselves, becoming sharper and more cunning as the hours passed. Why was I risking my life for SuperJer, a man I knew so little about? Aside from the fact he was captured, and that he was wicked fast with mathematical calculations, what more could I say about him? I could say he was a kind man, that he was a wise man,
That he was a SUPER man. But beyond that, what? Who was he? I could not say, for I did not know the real him as anything more than a goal. Was he worth saving? And if so, why? Would he make the sacrifices and struggles worth it in the end, or would he simply prove to be an anticlimax? Together, like a patchwork, these questions formed a larger question that gnawed at my soul with ravenous red teeth. Quite simply, I wanted to know why I was the one going after SuperJer. Splinters of doubt dug into my confidence's skin, and faith was no longer strong enough to pull them out.

Of course the problem was that SuperJer represented a paradox, at least within conventional thought. How could a man so super fail his mission and get captured? And if he existed to me as the monument to overcoming adversity, why couldn't he overcome his? Not to sound cold, but in the greater scheme of things, especially war, lives are lost and sometimes people simply cannot be saved. For me, it was simply impossible to quantify his value, since his one known heroic act was to get captured by the enemy. Surely this invalidated him as a hero, I reasoned, and thusly invalidated any mission to save him. In a weird way I also wondered if this made me superior to him. If it were my duty to do what he failed to do, then wouldn't that make me more super than him?
Questions like these are not easy to answer. I could swing from a metal balcony floating over a pit of fire but the seemingly simple task of defining the nature of one man proved too difficult. It was a pitfall greater than the reach of any philosophers mind, let alone mine. Perhaps this was why believing in SuperJer was so important. Perhaps he transcended certainty, ascending to a plateau that could only be appreciated by surmounting the myriad jigsaw puzzles of an arduous life and finally looking down at them as a whole from on high. Maybe SuperJer was super because he was beyond the struggles of man. He was captured only in our minds and by our standards, yet free in his personal world. In that sense, I was the prisoner to the routine of a cruel world. In finding him, I would actually be freeing myself. And who says it would end there? Freeing a man of powerful transcending ideas from the shackles of this oppressive world could open up his teachings to untold numbers. SuperJer could be the key to that final revolution that takes us to where we all need to be.

In the classic documentary Apocalypse Now, we see that Willard clearly understands the nature of Kurtzs madness. Had he not endured the trials of the journey to find Kurtz, he would not have been able to fully grasp the entirety of Kurtzs torment or its very real justifications. Not to suggest that SuperJer is or was insane, but perhaps it is the torment of the journey to find him that makes rescuing him a meaningful experience. If he were not so elusive, would there be anything to gain? Perhaps in the end we will both look down at the world from on high and he will tell me, This is why you did what you did. Your socking pole can reach far, but even it must take small steps to climb the mountain. But even then the idea of SuperJer as savior is another fantasy. There is no way to prove he is anything more than a captured soldier in a greater war. As a fellow soldier, it was merely my job to save him. A job like any other, and nothing more. A job I have since retired from.

Truth be told, I rarely think about SuperJer anymore. Like any good riddle, he occasionally enters my mind and beckons me to untangle the twisting knots of perplexity. In these instances I am propelled to revive the struggle, to seek him out and find the answers once and for all. But its never anything more than a spark these days, failing to ever ignite into the glorious crusade it once was. Maybe I was once the perfect candidate to find and rescue SuperJer. I can see the logic, most definitely. Who better suited to reach for the unreachable than a man with a socking pole? But SuperJer isnt what Im looking for anymore. The way I see it, there are six billion SuperJers out there. Let's start looking for them instead. Theyre all around us and easier to find

It sounded like a good idea, and I tried to justify it to myself, but I realized that truly there is only 1 SuperJer and the other 6 billion are in fact nonSuperJers. That is why I continued my journey, killing as many cute, fuzzy animals and PeTA members along the way as there were grains of sand. Until I reached the fount of the knowledge of the location of the SuperJer. I drank of its cool refreshing water and then peed in it. I don't know why I did that. Then I saw a message carved unceremoniously into the side of the fount:

SuperJer is watching America's Funnyest Home Vidoes on your TV

I was mystified about the two spelling errors, making me wonder if I could trust the author. Could it be that SuperJer was watching AFHV at my house all along? I had to know! In a mad dash I dashed all the way home, 2 blocks away.

I kicked open the door and burst into the room. There was SuperJer on the couch, there was the TV, and there was VH1's Top 50 Sexiest Music Videos Countdown, currently showing Love Shack by the B52s at rank 23.

I reached up to pull open my face to yell "THIS IS NOT AMERICA'S FUNNYEST HOME VIDOES!" but before I could emit the first syllable in "THIS", SuperJer violently exploded sending shower curtain rings and My Little Ponies all over the room.