re: TD Music Board Original CopyPasta Thread

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philosaraptor asks, "if you spend 24,000 posts and 5 years of your life trying to convince people you're not trying and no one believes you, are you just trolling yourself?"

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wrong thread

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philosaraptor asks, "if you spend 14,580 posts and 5 years of your life trying to convince people you're not trying and no one believes you, are you just trolling yourself?"

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fify and the answer is yes

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wrong thread

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it's the correct thread. he was posting this tasty mayo melt from the Whinee thread

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You wouldn't enjoy Wanee regardless. It's about 8 hours away from Baton Rouge, which I know it's hard for Louisiana people to leave their homes. Secondly, you spend most of the day in the sun being happy opposed to having to stay in the shade and whine about the rest of the world.

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Nobody has defined it as torture but dumb commie POS's like you who hate America.

I don't give a shyt what some U.N. council or some Geneva bych says, I am a fricking American with common sense and I know we don't torture our own boys you ignorant POS.

You, all your commie Dem buddies and the rest of the European commies can kiss my azz.

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Water boarding is not torture firstly.

Secondly, terrorist in my opinion, have NO HUMAN RIGHTS, they set out to murder innocent civilians, and if we have to poke their damn eyes out with hot fire pokers I am OK with this.

I don't take up the plight of terrorists. Could give a damn what happens to them, as long as we are seeking to save lives.

If you were a terrorist would you rather be water boarded or killed by a damned drone ?

Pour some water on me.

Stupid reasoning.

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Should have done the fake shite

That's right

i remember being more excited about the show a few hours ago when we were spelling out "fufck her --> the puzzy" and "BISCO TIME" on our black wife beaters in fluorescent duct tape. but as the ketamine began to take hold, i could feel my drenched sweatbands turning from electric lime to just a regular looking green. immediately i could tell this was a bad batch. in panic, i looked over at hammertime, and he's just like staring at a pool or something and couldn't understand a word i was saying. projectpatATM collapsed to the floor, unable to move his legs as a drug-fueled mob stomped and untz'd his nearly lifeless body. just then, something snapped inside amazingmoves. he was taking all the money we raised in the lot selling hypercolor tees with the logos removed and berating anyone around him who wouldn't let him massage their prostate and ejaculate on projectpatATM for $20. "which one you **** wants free money??" and "just close your eyes and enjoy it" he kept saying. i knew he did a good job b/c i let him work on me once, just once, but i wasn't getting involved. not tonight. i escaped and fumbled through my phone and got in touch with the only person i knew who could help--scruffy. he rambled off 20 or so life threatening side effects, 18 of which i was exhibiting. the prognosis was slim, but he said maybe if i hid for the rest of the show in this portopotty, i might pull through. the knocks and bangs on the flimsy plastic door got louder and louder as the night went on, an onslaught of frantic junkies likely making the same life-ruining mistake i had made. after what seemed like an hour, my claustrophobia, which was only creeping in slightly at first had become maddening. as i burst through the door and see the incredible lightshow silhouetting barber, i fell to my knees and mumbled incoherently. a man emerged from the portopotty line and picked me up by the shoulders. distraught and strung out, i said "just let me die brah." he said "colby, is that you brother?" his blurry image congealed as i squinted, and it hit me. "trevor?" holy fawk it was my identical twin. call it destiny. call it fate. but i don't think it's a coincidence the bisco family reunited me with my real family. as he held me up, i was reminded of our special time together in the womb. maybe it was the residual K still swimming in my bloodstream, but i could recall the bond we felt as our developing penises mashed into each others stomachs. his looked like it was going to be shorter but girthier. i always wondered which was better to have. i said, "i thought you were kidnapped from the hospital brah" "i was brah" "we even had a funeral for you after looking for you for 3 years." "ah yea?" "yea and dad killed himself after your funeral brah. you don't have a real dad anymore...and and and i don't either...s-s-s-so...so..." Inexplicably my voice began to well with heavy emotion. my strength was returning. i released myself from his grip, gathered my footing, and puffed out my chest..."s-s-s0 so maybe you should stop fufckin looking for him ok? he's fufkin gone alright?" needless to say i was sobbing uncontrollably. angry wads of thick, bubbly spittle shot from my mouth as i pleaded. he said "fufk this place brah. lets get outta here and finally start a life with each other. let's be a family again." reluctantly i replied, "yea...*sniff*...yea, i'd like that man. hey you holding? got any K?" he said "nah man i jus--"WELL GET THA FUJK OUTTA MY FACE THEN. and you know what else? THIS. IS. MY FAMILY." i blurted out, stomping my feet to emphasize every syllable. good thing i hadn't seen that fgt in 19 years, he was getting on my fufkin nerves already. next thing i remember was back in that familiar portopotty, the door slightly ajar but no line behind it this time. it was morning. silence. empty. the crowd had gone, most of them back to their shanties and lean-tos, and others still packing all their belongings into muddy burlap sacks and rounding up their dogs. where is hammertime? i was pretty sure projectpatATM was dead and most likely robbed. "is this my life?" maybe this was the jolt i needed to finally go back to school and turn shite around for myself. a groundskeeper peeped in, "son, let's go. show's over." instinctively, nay, innately i replied "hey man got any K?" ketamine. not even once.