There's this cool new animation where they say "All your base are belong to us! HAHA!
Sorry Labs. Have you seen the Jib Jab video?
I love reading post secret, but I don't know how I feel about all the profit that guy's deriving from other people's labor. I mean, he deserves some profit, because he is doing work to compile and present them, and it was his idea, but I feel like maybe a hefty chunk of the proceeds should go to a suicide prevention hotline.
It was BPhD who wrote that, years ago, right?
ll the profit that guy's deriving from other people's labor
What profit? (I find the site really, really depressing. (Like this site.))
I don't know how I feel about all the profit that guy's deriving from other people's labor
But the alternative is standing in line for a single type of state-produced creepy postcard.
Have you seen that Guiness ad?
[This thread is like Unfogged, condensed.]
At the Mineshaft.
Titties.
Nutsack.
Everybody is fat. But not as fat as the Beach Boys.
I'm a virgin, but only because I have better taste than you.
This has become a fascist country, but Republicans are right about everything.
Torture is horrible, except when it accords with my middle-eastern sensibility.
How long did we decide it would take to read the complete archives? 3 weeks? No need now!
This thread is the punchline we've all been building up to for so long.
When it ends, we die.
my surrealism doesn't want a date. In fact, my surrealism finds your asking it for a date offensive, and now feels only disdain for you. Because it does not love itself.
There is something ominous about ogged being funny. Shades of "dogs and cats, living together in sin," I think.
the final punchline cannot be avoided . . .
Being a Christian has made me very angry. Angry enough to crush Holbo's skull.
Cock!
At The Mineshaft!
Where We All Have Gay Sex!
With Each Other!
And Strangers Too!
With Cocks!
Bestiality was totally outré when I was young. These people confuse me.
That's 3,264 points for Labs, 2,322 points for Unf, and 22 points for ogged. I think I'm ahead of ogged. Dear god, am I ahead of ogged?
By the time they realize that my seven premises are shite, they'll be talking about something else. Verdict: suckaz!
People! Do not impersonate other commenters. What do I have to do to control you? Why am I not in charge of my own blog? I submit (to mockery) because I have secret fantasies of (mockery) domination that I cannot confront. Why are you all at your computer on a Friday night? Be gone, all of you.
whoops, left out the URL. And some quotation marks.
Look guys, I can't just come out and say it: women don't want cock, they want pussy.
Boy, am I auto-pwned, I somehow had missed the point on this thread where ogged started off condensing himself, and thus I made fun of him in nearly the exact way he had already made fun of himself. Teh pwned. I admit it.
No, it was w-lfs-n.
What am I alleged to have written now?
You're all sexist.
I love shoes and who wants to see my tits?
It's official: this blog is over.
Change the name to "Post-Unfogged."
(Did the "Post Secret" people intend to play on the meaning of "post" as "after"?)
Not to be all Walter Benjamin about it, but the Post Secret exhibit here in DC featured some really weak poster-sized reproductions. Furthermore, all the postcards were hung on clotheslines, which led the crowd to walk the room as if on a conveyor belt. Amateurs.
My girlfriend is really cool, can I play with you guys?
Me me me me interrogate me! Cock! Tits! Me!!!
Ok, now you're oppressing me.
Yeah, sue me, I forgot to take off my url. I suck.
I'm really hurt that that grad student moved to Sweden.
Even though bphd totally pwned me by imitating me imitating her, I had to redo the comment myself, because I will not be pwned. It's my damn blog, after all.
[No impersonations allowed.]
Hey b, that was you! You know the rules!
That rule has become somewhat more flexible today.
Not really. Even the o-imposters used their own URLs, which people have done in the past to indicate impersonating-in-fun. But b used my URL too.
You don't stand a chance in hell, Ogged.
O, all right. I thought the content would make it o-bvious.
O, that's mighty convenient, Armsmasher. I haven't detected any such subtext.
I forgive you b. And you know what that's worth.
You guys are all banned.
I'm totally kidding! Lighten up.
Seriously, though, I'm not afraid to ban you. Especially you, Miss Congeniality. Haha! I'm joking! Chill.
You know what would be great? If you all called me Mistah Kurtz.
Ha! Pwned again, suckaz. Stay on topic. I might just ban every one of you.
I kid! What do you think this is, some kind of dictatorship?
None of you will ever understand swimming. It's sad, really.
Please don't hate me, guys.
Even the o-imposters used their own URLs, which people have done in the past to indicate impersonating-in-fun.
Everytime I've impersonated a fictional character/historical figure/dead author I've signed with a URL related to the person, not my own. I don't think I've ever impersonated another commenter.
Anonymity will be swiftly and severely punished.
o–susan and catherine
This would mean that ogged was impersonating susan and catherine, so why would his email be smashin@rms.com? Unless that was supposed to be Kriston impersonating ogged impersonating susan and catherine.
So, it was you, impersonating ogged impersonating susan and catherine telling ogged he didn't stand a chance? Why would ogged, impersonating s&c, say that?
I find your impersonation of ogged lacking, is what I'm saying.
Ben, stop being such a little bitch.
It seems several people mistakenly took the "o-" to be a style, rather than an appellation. This doesn't excuse them, or mean that I'm not going to steal away their girlfriends.
Feel free to try to steal my girlfriend, Ogged.
The weirdest one is clearly #52: 'Smasher pretending to be himself. Must be one of those self-referential art things.
Feel free to try to steal my girlfriend, Ogged.
That would be like suing you for $500,000, yes?
I ams o fucking lost. Is this due ot my drunken state or will I understand this in the morning?
In the morning, I will be a genius, and you'll feel a little sorry for Smasher.
Love the drunk typing.
No, Becks is the geniuse and in the morning I wil feel sorry for myself!
#76: Sort of. But let's not talk about me. It gets so old.
Becks' next comment:
hnjhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Best pair of comments ever; Becks is the hero!
I promised a vomit story here, but it was too long so I decided to post it instead.
oh, and I'm a total traffic-whore.
I didn't believe Ogged was in fact responsible for o-everyone. Don't worry, I'll ban myself on my way out.
this thread was a lot of fun. it's too bad that we all have to die now.
Re: 73
From yesterday's Popbitch, some unreconstructed retro-pwnage:
"Michael Caine and Terence Stamp shared a flat in the 60s. This led to innuendoes that they were In The Gays, particularly from one group of male acquaintances. Caine and Stamp finally got annoyed by all the jokes, so Stamp disappeared for a couple of weeks. When he returned Caine asked him where he had been. "You know those blokes that said we were queers?" "replied Stamp. "Well, I've fucked all their girlfriends".
"and by that I mean, Michael Caine and I had what is known as anal intercourse. With each other."
92 to 90, surprisingly. I don't know why I put it in quotes, or actually what I'm trying to say here at all.
and now unfogged hears the distant cry of savory oblivion.
It sounds like tender beef.
And sleep.
no, unfogged! you can only taste oblivion but once!
but I am spent. my self-references have turned upon themselves. I've used up all my life-force in a last-gasp thread. and the oblivion will taste very good.
do not swim to the oblivion! you've taken too many breaths, and you fall out of breath so quickly! We'll think of something new to write.
I've already performed my kick-turn. The swede is gone. There is nothing to detain me from chewing on oblivion.
It sounds like tender beef.
These beefs are tender. And the exuberance?
My instructor was Mr. Langley, and he taught me a song. Would you like to hear it?
Yeah, unfogged. Yeah, I'd like to hear it.
Early one mornin' the sun was shinin',
I was layin' in bed
Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all
If her hair was still red.
Her folks they said our lives together
Sure was gonna be rough
They never did like Mama's homemade dress
Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough.
And I was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on my shoes
Heading out for the East Coast
Lord knows I've paid some dues gettin' through,
Tangled up in blue.
I don't think you wrote that, unfogged.
no, I didn't. I've got nothing new to say any more. My commenters too have all become mere iterations of themselves. Like Ernest Byner, when he played for the Redskins.
Ernest Byner had some of his greatest seasons with the Redskins.
after that fumble he was a mere shell of a man.
My instructor was Mr. Langley, and he taught me a song.
Notice that I don't claim to have written it. T-ben t-w-lfs-n, WMYBSALB?
he did it! unfogged is dead. world, you've no more fragrant foods left in you, nor buzzing alcoholic treats.
good god, man! even I can't bring myself to engage in little-bitchery on such an un-wizard-cocksucking day.
There's a very tall man, with a long beard, and white, flowing garments. He's somehow attached himself to the still-body of unfogged.
he's kicking his legs! and the head is moving rhythmically! Up and down! It's like he's putting air into unfogged! Yes! He's blowing unfogged full of air!
Yes, it's me. I blew unfogged with my superkoranic powers.
I'm likely to regret all this tomorrow.
well 99 was still an invalid act of little-bitchery. There's nothing wrong with comparing a single thing to a multitude of things.
As in: Ben w-lfs-n, when he speaks, is like a thousand voiceless carrion birds, with horrible squawks, except that they haven't got any.
I didn't really mean it though. to sleep, text.
99 was a quotation from a Penny Arcade strip, motivated solely by the phrase "tender beef".
What could possibly be wrong with being an iteration of oneself?
It is my considered opinion that Becks should comment drunk much more often than she does.
Hello B, are you there? None of your messaging clients seem to be online so I thought I'd try you here. It's almost two in the afternoon. Are you awake?
I woke up at 4 pm, all right?
Apostropher, do you mind if I have a crush on Text now, too?
This would be the innate capriciousness you warned of, eh?
Yeah, I'm free with my affections, I'm afraid. And clever men get to me.
But, see? I have a sense of honor and loyalty. At least I asked.
Well, as long as you blog-come home to me at night, I guess it's okay.
Yay! Spreading the gospel of open marriage far and wide.
Text, what are you doing tomorrow around lunch hour?
Text, what are you doing tomorrow around lunch hour
Blog nooner!
Yeah, baby, I was thinking you and I could have an early night of it.
And clever men get to me.
I think this sentence is missing a word.
It is not.
Hey, Mr. B., not my fault you started hanging out at the frathouse. If you're going to enter blogland, you have to accept the consequences.
Re confessing secrets: Some radio station had/has some program where people call in and confess their secrets. Around a year ago, some rocket scientist called up and bragged that he and his friends had committed an armed robbery of a store six months or so ago, and hadn't been caught. They traced his call, and the robbery didn't remain unsolved for long.
Frederick- a commendable effort to try and drag this thread back towards something marginally related to the orginal post. And by commendable I of course mean gay.
For the record, this thread confused the shit out of me, even though I think I understood the majority of the inside-references. For a while I tried to follow along, but soon it became too much work and I just let the comments flow past my eyes in wave after wave of meaningless absurdity. It felt somewhat cleansing, something like a good marijuana high but without the mental haziness afterward.
But I don't know whether reading it made me a better person.
Is unfogged really dying?
Yes, Urple, it is.
Netcraft confirms it.
OK so this would almost count as "dream blogging" if I could write a post on it but I cannot. But in the shades of half-awake this morning I composed an Unfogged comments thread -- I can remember very little of it, besides that the main body of the thread was a dialogue between Adam Kotsko and Matthew Weiner on the question of whether it should be deemed reprehensible to...
"I grow ol'... I grow ol'.
I shall scribble WTF? and LOL!"