Thraxwhirl's Carnival Bizarre

Indeed

 

Heyy! Kerr_Plunk's in da house!

Glad you could make it, and of course you're welcome at any party I throw.

"you'll never know Thraxwhirl..."

Izzat so?


Hmmm... well, you folks have been kind to offer your thoughts and comments in the last few days, a-t-y, Richie, Nik, Messicat and Livi-Wan. I am most grateful. And in answer to your most sage question:

"Where do you get this stuff from?"

Richie, my dear fellow, as with all the bizarre ramblings I have offered in this thread, as with others such as My 'Estate' and Online Divorces... it is simply a question of doing as I am told by the voices in my head.

Alas, none of you seem to have suggested any effective form of treatment - much less a cure - so I shall therefore put before you my thoughts upon the following topic...

Sauron's Advice Column

...and I feel extra-compelled to get this posted in honour of the unexpected but most welcome arrival of Kerr_Plunk. *Doffs hat, and bows* A pleasure to see you here among the Brits, m'dear.

Anyway, here's a letter that arrived in the Dark Lord's mailbag on October 24th, 2002, and the advice given in reply:

A Senior Citizen Writes:

Dear Sauron,

What with one thing and another, such as a poor increase in Government State Pensions, a death in the family, and a siege around my City - I've been feeling rather depressed of late, and wondered if I should kill myself?

What words of comfort could you offer me to dissuade me from ending my life?

Yours, Denethor, Housekeeper, Minas Tirith.



Sauron Writes:

Whimpering CUR!! Tremble in your doomed tower, for your time is short and your subjects have lost all hope! The sky blackens over all your land, and dawn shall ne'er come again before the death of your people. My tireless, dark legions of Orcs and Haradrim shall descend upon your kingdom with merciless fury, staining red the fields of Pelenor with the blood of Men, and tearing to ruin the walls of Minas Tirith! Un-numbered shall the fallen be, and eternal the suffering of those who survive and endure beneath the dominion of Mordor!

Ha! As leader of your defeated people, I shall have you paraded in chains through Barad-Dur, there to face the mocking of the pitiless, and thereafter shall you know the most condign tortures of my demonic instruments - until such time as you cease to amuse me, and you shall beg for death before the end!!

Of course, if you'd still rather do it yerself, there's a convenience store just round on 34th Street where you can pick up a box of matches and a can o' gasoline. They're open 24/7 and very reasonable I seem to recall. They even offer cash back on debit cards.

Death to the enemies of Mordor!!!

Yours, Sauron, Lord of Middle Earth, Mordor.

He doesn't pull his punches, Old Sauron. Best to pay heed to his words, I find.

 

I'd have to agree with you there.

 

yay!! i'm honoured.. i'm tickled.. i'm... dang you're good!

 

Yes, I'm Mr. Wonderful. I just so rarely get any of the recognition I deserve.

*ahem*

Aaaaanyway, for today I thought I'd post a picture that I drew on the 10th of this month. In order to do it, I first had to download some drawing software, which was a pain in the backside... then I had to learn how to use it for a bit.... then discovered it was a really crappy software package that didn't do too well... but I carried on regardless, and came up with... well, some bizarre loada sh**e, it must be said.

Here:

[image=http://pictures.friendsreunited.co.uk/pictures/35429189.JPG]

This is my schematic, cutaway rendering of a watermelon, detailing major features and technical upgrades for interstellar combat. Tougher, faster and more heavily armed than its predecessor the citrus lemon(a former project of mine from years ago), the redoubtable watermelon packs a far weightier punch, and should prove a considerable asset to the order of battle for any armada by which it is deployed, for years to come.

Anyone wishing to place an order for a shipment of these awesome and heavily-beweaponed vessels/rich sources of multi-vitamins... contact your local arms dealer immediately while stocks last, and beat the Christmas Rush.

 

Its attack of the killer Melon!

 

Thrax, your talents never cease to amaze

 

I've decided you're all as mad as I am.

Bill the Pony's Nominations.

By Adz (11-11-2002)

*The Diary room. Bill The Pony enters. Stands around. Looks this way and that. Appears bewildered.*

Big Brother: Welcome, Bill. Could you please give us your nominations? We understand that you are unable to talk to us, and in the absence of opposable thumbs, we accept that sign language is out of the question. We've sent for a translator. He'll be here shortly. Make yourself comfortable.

Bill the Pony: *lies down* snort.

*Time passes. Big Brother and Bill the Pony sigh. Big Brother drums fingers on table. There is an awkward silence.*

Big Brother: Been anywhere nice on your holidays?

Bill the Pony: *shakes head*

Big Brother: *Desperately trying to make conversation* They say Rivendell's beautiful this time of year. You should go. Well, I mean you can't, 'cos you're in here, but - y'know - after you get out I mean. *Thinks* Er, the Shire's very pastoral and the locals are friendly. Good cuisine too. Isengard's best avoided if you find the nightlife rowdy. It's not what it used to be. Recently become a tourist trap for an influx of Orcs. They get a little carried away to put it mildly. It's like Ibiza. Er, except without the chicks. All drinking and violence. They tell me Lothlorien's faded into shadow. Gondor's under quarantine, and the less said about Harad the better.

Bill the Pony: *says nothing*

Big Brother: Er, been watching 'Friends' or any good TV lately?

Bill the Pony: *rolls eyes*

Big Brother: Errrm. Read any interesting books?

Bill the Pony: *snorts angrily*

*Big Brother shuts up. Time passes. Enter Shadowfax and Eomer of Rohan.*

Big Brother: Ooh thank Christ! The translator! Welcome, Eomer of the Mark! I understand you can translate Bill's intentions for us.

Eomer: *puzzled* No. Who the blazes do you think I am? C-3PO? Dr. Doolittle? You need another horse to know what Bill's thinking.

Big Brother: Then how-?

Eomer: It's all right. I've brought a friend.

*Enter Shadowfax. Bill the Pony stands. Looks at Shadowfax. Nods in appreciation.*

Big Brother: Shadowfax?

Eomer: Indeed. Here he is - Shadowfax - Most swift of all horses of Rohan; most cherished of King Théoden; graceful as the summer breeze; whiter than the snows of Caradras; swifter than the Eastern Gales that run the plains of Gorgoroth; faster - at 512kps - than ISDN.

*Shadowfax nods*

Big Brother: I see. So be it. Welcome, Shadowfax. *still oviously puzzled* I dunno what the ****'s going on. You dudes just get on with it.

Eomer: By your good countenance, Big Brother. *turns to Bill the Pony* Bill, please give Shadowfax your first nomination.

*Bill the Pony looks at Shadowfax. Nuzzles him. Blinks.*

Shadowfax: *raises tail. Grimaces. Farts. Sound of dialling tone. Transfer of data. Thin, recept-like paper streams from his arse.*

Big Brother: Bloody Hell!!

Eomer: *tears paper* Here we are. *puts on reading spectacles* Hang on. It's in Text Speak. Er... *reads aloud* "I Bll Pny BN of SND MND & JDGMT DO HRBI NMN8 GNDLF Teh Gry. Hes BLDY Hvy!" *Looks at Big Brother* Gand

 

What are you going on about, young man? Art thou mad?

 

Most likely

 

First Kerr_Plunk, now crestfallen - you seem to have some of my favourite JCers in your retinue, Thrax

~waits for next installment~

 

More! I want more craziness!

And I love love love the pic! It's brilliance! SHEER brilliance!

 

Indeed
You should make a pumpkin especially for Halloween

 

~ups thread, hoping for a new installment~

Pleeeeaaasse, Thrax

I'm in a bloody miserable mood & need something to cheer me up

 

I'm returned, my friends. Sorry it has taken me so long to get back to you all, but I am at last here, and have more wisdom to share with every man jack and woman of you.

Just earlier today(Wednesday 17th November 2004, for the benefit of those of you studying this thread closely for your exams), I was chattin' on MSN with a friend of mine, and my ramblings took in a subject that brought me a certain degree of consternation. In response to this I gave vent to my disatisfaction with an outcry of "Arse Sandwiches!" as I am often wont to do. Now, she didn't feel at all compelled to ask me to explain this dichotomy, but ever the one to bridge the gulf of understanding between myself, other people, and of course any squid who happen to be interested, I chose to ellaborate thenceforth.

I'm pretty considerate, you see.

Now, the Arse Sandwich is an invention of my own cunning. It is pretty typical of all sandwiches such as one might purchase from a supermarket in those small triangular plastic cases - by which I mean it's the sandwiches, not the supermarkets, that are encased in plastic - and which invariably had a 'sell by' date of two or three days previous.... but the filling, as one might infer from the name, is an arse.

Now, before you all rush out to buy one, let me stop you right there with a caution. *Adz raises a finger of admonishment.* You see, arse sandwiches are not the most tasty of morsels - apart from the bread, obviously - but they can sustain you in extreme moments of hunger or starvation.

For example, if you find yourself ship-wrecked on a dessert island, and are forced, in the interests of survival, to eat the other survivors, then it certainly is an option if not a necessity. And let's face it, the arse or "rump", is a prime cut o' meat, as everyone knows.

But whither the flavour? Well, I'm no expert, but according to Eddie Izzard cannibals have said that human meat does taste of chicken. But what about the taste of chicken? Well, your guess is as good as mine as chickens are herbivores and thus are not reknowned for their capacity for cannibalism.... as far as we can gather. No one can say for absolute certain, because chickens - be they cannibals or otherwise - refuse to offer their opinions upon this or any other subject, and have proven most uncommunicative to this day.

Though the thought does strike me that perhaps they do converse with squid, which is a logical deduction, and any chickens marooned on an island surrounded by water may well have plenty of squid around for company. You see? It all links, and I could perhaps fill in more pieces of the puzzle were it not for the fact that none of you have as yet posted here to let me know if or when you've learnt anything from your attempts to converse with squid.

So for now, my lucubrance reaches a dead end in this matter, and thus leads me to conclude that an arse sandwich is probably the safest option under the circumstance. Unless of course, you'd rather eat the very island on which you're stranded - it is afterall, a dessert by its very definition.

Anyway, I'll allow you to ponder this little lot for a while, but before I leave you to your musings, I'd like to ask you one simple question, which derives from my thoughts upon society and communication.

Simply this....in the modern world we get inundated with a lot of correspondence from allover the globe, some of it unwarranted. Well, have any of you folks here ever received through your letterbox a circular letter?

I got one the other day, and I would've sent it onto another recipient too... but the only envelopes I have are rectangular! THAT is precisely why I opposed the privatisation of the Post Office from the outset, because everyone knew there'd be a curtailment of essential services and products.

In conclusion... you're either mad, or both.

 

Good to see again Thrax.
Insane as ever I notice.
Fantastic.

 

Why thank you, my friend. *Bows*

Actually, I did hesitate a little today before posting my thoughts upon Sandwiches, as I felt a little nervous of the consequences of transmitting uncensored the word "arse". I've left a note for Yoshee to warn him that such an incident has occurred in his absence, and that I do hope there'll be no cataclysmic and uproarious controversy.

All things considered, I reckoned I mayhave just squeaked through and gotten away with it - in precisely the way that the old fairground owner in Scooby-Doo never did - on the grounds that the word is a "grey area", and I've been assured that Yoshee is allowed to excercise discretion upon this one.

I am hopeful that its context will weigh in my favour, as the word is used not as an insult to offend anyone here, but rather a sandwich filling from which mankind may benefit, so fingers crossed.

However I'll accept full responsibility if anyone takes great offence or suffers a life-threatening coronary as a result of seeing a word like "arse" pop up before their eyes; and I'll furthermore raise no objection to any censorship, banning, imprisonment, deportation or death penalty that may be punitively visited upon me in response to any conflagration that may result from this.

 

Uh ... okay.
Like I say, good to see you!

 

*chuckles*

Yeh ladka hai deewana!

 

Do you wish for a translation?

 

That would be helpful

 

this place is insane or is it just me

 

Er...its you

 

talk about the pot calling the kettle black, old chum.