Discussion Topic |
|
This thread has been locked |
Mighty Hiker
climber
Vancouver, B.C.
|
|
|
Jul 21, 2012 - 12:55am PT
|
Coming next - the pit and the pendulum. The suspense is just killing me.
|
|
jstan
climber
|
|
|
Jul 21, 2012 - 01:00am PT
|
Chirp
Chirp
|
|
jstan
climber
|
|
|
Jul 21, 2012 - 01:04am PT
|
Chirp
|
|
jstan
climber
|
|
|
Jul 21, 2012 - 02:04am PT
|
We stannards are totally colorless people. Thanks Cosmic. That's the best picture ever of me!
Do I have to pay you a fee if I send it to all my friends?
Edit:
Blame? I'm serious. if I were any more serious I would be dead. Great picture. Maybe I should try and mimic Jiminey's position? The hands are going to be tough, I think.
|
|
Pate
Trad climber
|
|
|
Jul 23, 2012 - 04:57pm PT
|
hey cosmic am i supposed to be the dark night? hope not- my job is to shed light and not to master.
|
|
MH2
climber
|
|
|
Jul 23, 2012 - 06:43pm PT
|
The Fattrad, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone
He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man
He rose the morrow morn.
|
|
dirtbag
climber
|
|
|
Jul 23, 2012 - 07:14pm PT
|
I want to share with you a few of the tentative conclusions I've reached regarding Officer Fattrad's insinuations. And I stress the word "tentative," because the subject of what motivates Fattrad is tricky and complex. Before examining the present situation, however, it is important that I brush away the cobwebs of ruffianism.
Although Fattrad babbles on and on about unilateralism, he has no more conception of it than any other blasphemous, contumelious barmpot. I don't object to his allocutions because I was personally offended—and I don't easily offend—by the value he places on making me have an identity crisis. I object because society must soon decide either to help people help themselves or else to let Fattrad legitimate irresponsibility, laziness, and infidelity. The decision is one of life or death, peaceful existence or perpetual social fever. I can hope only that those in charge realize that I've heard of jaundiced things like resistentialism and caciquism. But I've also heard of things like nonviolence, higher moralities, and treating all beings as ends in and of themselves—ideas that Fattrad's ignorant, unthinking, execrable brain is too small to understand. He insists that power, politics, and privilege should prevail over the rule of law. That lie is a transparent and strained effort to keep us from noticing that I don't know what makes him think that he should be a given a direct pipeline to the National Treasury. Maybe he's been sipping cuckoo juice. The fact of the matter is that once people obtain the critical skills that enable them to think and reflect and speculate independently, they'll realize that Fattrad appears to have found a new tool to use to help him extirpate the very things that I unquestionably cherish. That tool is revisionism, and if you watch him wield it you'll indeed see why were he alive today, Hideki Tojo would be his most trustworthy ally. I can see Tojo joining forces with Fattrad to help him weaken our mental and moral fiber.
I find that some of Fattrad's choices of words in his undertakings would not have been mine. For example, I would have substituted "chauvinistic" for "pseudointernationalistic" and "harebrained" for "gastrohysterorrhaphy." Fattrad has been creating an ideological climate that will enable him to redefine unbridled self-indulgence as a virtue, as the ultimate test of personal freedom. How can he perpetrate such an outrage against public propriety and decency? Well, we all know the answer to that question, don't we? In case you don't, you should note that if we don't remove the Fattrad threat now, it will bite us in our backside before long.
Our real enemies are not people living in a distant land whose names we don't know and whose culture we don't understand. Our real enemies are Fattrad and all others who combine, in a rare mixture, bestial cruelty and an inconceivable gift for lying. He has a talent for inventing fantasy worlds in which his mistakes are always someone else's fault. Then again, just because Fattrad is a prolific fantasist doesn't mean that truth is merely a social construct. My love for people necessitates that I argue about his long-term goals. Yes, I face opposition from Fattrad. However, this is not a reason to quit but to strive harder.
Why does Fattrad want to reopen wounds that seem scarcely healed? I blame the stultifying effect of pure, undiluted greed. Of course it's also true that life isn't fair. We've all known this since the beginning of time, so why is Fattrad so compelled to complain about situations over which he has no control? After days of agonized pondering and reflection I finally came to the conclusion that Fattrad's imperium has found a rallying cry for its upcoming battle against our most treasured liberties. That rallying cry is, "The laws of nature don't apply to Fattrad!" It's quotes like that that make me realize that the worst kinds of illogical opportunists I've ever seen are often found at Fattrad's elbow. This suggests to me that I can say one thing about Fattrad. He understands better than any of us that psychological impact is paramount—not facts, not anybody's principles, not right and wrong. I'm not suggesting that we behave likewise. I'm suggesting only that Fattrad says that he needs a little more time to clean up his act. As far as I'm concerned, Fattrad's time has run out.
Your guess is as good as mine as to why Fattrad wants to create an untrue and injurious impression of an entire people. Maybe it's because he plans to place our children at imminent risk of serious harm. Need I point out that prejudices are what pharisaical primates use for reason?
A bunch of termagant, parviscient bed-wetting cowards have recently been accused of introducing changes without testing them first. Fattrad's fingerprints are all over that operation. Even if it turns out that he is not ultimately responsible for instigating it, the sheer amount of his involvement demands answers. For instance, why can't Fattrad simply enjoy the fruits of his own labors and let other people enjoy the fruits of theirs? While that question may not be as profound as "What's the meaning of life?" or "Is there a God?", some people think it's a bit extreme of me to criticize Fattrad's sophistries publicly for their formalistic categories, their spurious claims of neutrality, and their blindness to the abuse of private power—a bit over the top, perhaps. Well, what I ought to remind such people is that if you ever ask Fattrad to do something, you can bet that your request will get lost in the shuffle, unaddressed, ignored, and rebuffed.
I'm inclined to think that anyone who is genuinely furacious must also be genuinely anti-democratic. Fattrad is both. This tells us that however varied or profound the explanations underlying our sense of moral values may be, he has mastered the art of bamboozling unwary listeners by introducing names of persons and events of which they have only a hazy recollection and then making statements, seemingly documented, with such authoritative confidence that they never think of trying to clarify their own recollections or consulting a reference work. Fattrad will almost certainly tiptoe around that glaringly evident fact because if he didn't, you might come to realize that he consumes, infests, and destroys. Fattrad lives off the death and destruction of others. For that reason alone we need to keep our courage up.
Some people have compared rebarbative vagrants to the worst classes of mawkish, domineering skivers there are. I would like to take the comparison one step further: Fattrad possesses no significant intellectual skills whatsoever and has no interest in erudition. Heck, he can't even spell or define "erudition", much less achieve it. When I'm through with him he'll think twice before attempting to cause people to betray one another and hate one another. I have a message for all you lazy cunctators out there: Get off your behinds and start embracing the cause of self-determination and recognizing the leading role and clearer understanding of those people for whom the quintessential struggle is an encompassing liberation movement against the totality of prætorianism. Why is it so important to do that? Because I have often maintained that reasonable people can reasonably disagree. Unfortunately, when dealing with Fattrad and his toadies, that claim assumes facts not in evidence. So let me claim instead that ever since Fattrad decided to divert us from proclaiming what in our innermost conviction is absolutely necessary, his consistent, unvarying line has been that the future of the entire world rests in his hands.
On a similar note, there is certainly a childish dimension to Fattrad's sottises. Or, if "childish" is too narrow of a term, perhaps you'd prefer "malevolent". In any case, Fattrad claims that laws are meant to be broken. That story is full of more holes than a cheap hooker with a piercing fetish and a heroin habit. There's an important difference between me and Fattrad. Namely, I am willing to die for my cause. Fattrad, in contrast, is willing to kill for his—or, if not to kill, at least to cast the world into nuclear holocaust. We have a dilemma of leviathan proportions on our hands: Should we contribute to the intellectual and spiritual health of the body politic, or is it sufficient to embrace the cause of self-determination and recognize the leading role and clearer understanding of those people for whom the quintessential struggle is an encompassing liberation movement against the totality of elitism? A complete answer to that question would take more space than I can afford, so I'll have to give you a simplified answer. For starters, many members of his gestapo believe that we can trust him not to pull the levers of Marxism and oil the gears of lexiphanicism. Even worse, almost all of his torchbearers believe that Fattrad commands an army of robots that live in the hollow center of the earth and produce earthquakes whenever they feel like shaking things up a bit on the surface. (One would think that the mammalian brain could do better than that, but apparently not.) My point is that given a choice of having Fattrad deploy enormous resources in a war of attrition against helpless citizens or having my bicuspids extracted sans Novocaine, I would embrace the pliers, purchase some Polident Partials, and call it a day. Allow me to close by stating that Officer Fattrad doesn't know the difference between right and wrong.
|
|
dirtbag
climber
|
|
|
Jul 23, 2012 - 07:16pm PT
|
What amazes me is how well that random rant generator nails it.
|
|
Norton
Social climber
the Wastelands
|
|
|
Jul 23, 2012 - 07:21pm PT
|
dirtbag, we hardly know ye
damn!
|
|
johntp
Trad climber
socal
|
|
|
Jul 23, 2012 - 09:28pm PT
|
Holy verbosity! Are we supposed to read all that?
|
|
John M
climber
|
|
|
Jul 23, 2012 - 09:34pm PT
|
Condensed version
"You suck"
"No.. you suck"
"You are an idiot"
"NO.. YOU ARE An IDIOT!!!!"
Fattrad Banned
"Good riddance.. Fattrad was an azzhole"
"No. Fattrad was a good guy.. he donated money to good causes and did all sorts of other good things"
"Feck em"
"Your all a bunch of whining pussies"- Werner
that should just about cover it
|
|
couchmaster
climber
pdx
|
|
|
Jul 23, 2012 - 11:32pm PT
|
Rant generator part 2. http://www.the-elite.net/story-generator/ fill in the blanks, get some words. Funny to be able to create a novel in 15 seconds.
It all started when our over-heralded star, Dirtbag, woke up in a disease-infested jungle. It was the tenth time it had happened. Feeling excessively worried, Dirtbag backhanded a ninja star, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). As if it really mattered he realized that his beloved internet was missing! Immediately he called his vicariously jealous friend, Norton. Dirtbag had known Norton for (plus or minus) 550,000 years, the majority of which were curious ones. Norton was unique. He was smart though sometimes a little... stupid. Dirtbag called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.
Norton picked up to a very happy Dirtbag. Norton calmly assured him that most disease-carrying chipmunks cringe before mating, yet legless puppies usually exotically turn red *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Dirtbag. Why was Norton trying to distract Dirtbag? Because he had snuck out from Dirtbag's with the internet only seven days prior. It was a exotic little internet... how could he resist?
It didn't take long before Dirtbag got back to the subject at hand: his internet. Norton panicked. Relunctantly, Norton invited him over, assuring him they'd find the internet. Dirtbag grabbed his canoe and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Norton realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the internet and he had to do it aimlessly. He figured that if Dirtbag took the 'modded' Civic, he had take at least seven minutes before Dirtbag would get there. But if he took the cop car? Then Norton would be ridiculously screwed.
Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Norton was interrupted by seven insensitive porn stars that were lured by his internet. Norton yawned; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling displeased, he carefully reached for his dangerous oil-soaked rag and recklessly hit every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the foxy forest, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the cop car rolling up. It was Dirtbag.
----o0o----
As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Sears to pick up a 12-pack of gerbils, so he knew he was running late. With a careful leap, Dirtbag was out of the cop car and went scandalously jaunting toward Norton's front door. Meanwhile inside, Norton was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the internet into a box of carrots and then slid the box behind his hippopotamus. Norton was displeased but at least the internet was concealed. The doorbell rang.
'Come in,' Norton scandalously purred. With a hasty push, Dirtbag opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some pestering beer-sloshed tool in a Jap Trap,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Norton assured him. Dirtbag took a seat just under where Norton had hidden the internet. Norton belched trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Dirtbag was distracted. As if it really mattered Norton noticed a funny-smelling look on Dirtbag's face. Dirtbag slowly opened his mouth to speak.
'...What's that smell?'
Norton felt a stabbing pain in his prostate when Dirtbag asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the internet right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A pestering look started to form on Dirtbag's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's carrots from when she used to have pet disease-carrying chipmunks. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Dirtbag nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Norton could react, Dirtbag thoughtfully lunged toward the box and opened it. The internet was plainly in view.
Dirtbag stared at Norton for what what must've been two microseconds. Just as zero people expected Norton groped flamboyantly in Dirtbag's direction, clearly desperate. Dirtbag grabbed the internet and bolted for the door. It was locked. Norton let out a saucy chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Dirtbag,' he rebuked. Norton always had been a little pestering, so Dirtbag knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Norton did something crazy, like... start chucking bananas at him or something. As if it really mattered he gripped his internet tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.
Norton looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Dirtbag. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame five days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Dirtbag. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Norton walked over to the window and looked down. Dirtbag was gone.
----o0o----
Just yonder, Dirtbag was struggling to make his way through the bush behind Norton's place. Dirtbag had severely hurt his kidney during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral porn stars suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the internet. One by one they latched on to Dirtbag. Already weakened from his injury, Dirtbag yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of porn stars running off with his internet.
About six hours later, Dirtbag awoke, his shin throbbing. It was dark and Dirtbag did not know where he was. Deep in the inhospitable fanstic pumpkin patch, Dirtbag was exceedingly lost. Unaware of the bleakness of existence, he remembered that his internet was taken by the porn stars. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a enormous porn star emerged from the fanstic pumpkin patch. It was the alpha porn star. Dirtbag opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the porn star sunk its teeth into Dirtbag's shin. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Dirtbag's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.
Less than three miles away, Norton was entombed by anguish over the loss of the internet. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened carrot. With a careful thrust, he buried it deeply into his shin. As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Dirtbag... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him. But he would die alone that day. All that remained was the internet that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant porn stars, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(
LOLz!!1
*** L337 Story Generator v1.0
*** Written by Derek Clark. Copyright © www.the-elite.net ~ 2004-present
*** Forever pwning with earnest.
|
|
Curt
Boulder climber
Gilbert, AZ
|
|
|
Jul 23, 2012 - 11:53pm PT
|
No way that's Stannard. All his jackets have way more holes.
Curt
|
|
dirtbag
climber
|
|
|
Jul 24, 2012 - 12:19am PT
|
Yeah, what Couchmaster said!
|
|
zBrown
Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
|
|
|
Jul 24, 2012 - 12:21am PT
|
News is that if FAT will pose for Peter Haan in Da Brim and with that horse Silver, he will be taken back on the ST forum. Check Supertopo newsletter, December/2012.
|
|
Curt
Boulder climber
Gilbert, AZ
|
|
|
Jul 24, 2012 - 02:48am PT
|
Awesome manipulation, Curt!
I didn't know you were that GUD with photoshop.
I'm not--just wanted to comment on your pic. Sorry, I can delete it if you like. But, hopefully not before Stannard replies :-)
Curt
|
|
klk
Trad climber
cali
|
|
|
Jul 24, 2012 - 03:14am PT
|
No way that's Stannard. All his jackets have way more holes.
but cosmic got the pose right.
|
|
HighDesertDJ
Trad climber
|
|
|
Jul 24, 2012 - 12:19pm PT
|
I'm not sure what level of obnoxiousness fattrad must have reached to actually be banned, especially considering the level of rancor and viciousness that is considered status quo these days on this forum. I really have little interest in reading through fatty's alleged "stalking" of Norton but it does seem a bit out of character for him, though perhaps he's grown more aggressive in his old age and with his beloved RNC out of substantive power in his home state and country alike. Regardless, the idea that fatty is an idiot or a substanceless contributor to this forum is nothing short of absurd and completely overplays the degree to which the most of the rest of you add, particularly in the arena of political discourse. Fatty is arrogant, confrontational and dismissive; and so are most of the rest of you. Fatty also understands pretty well what "trolling" means, which certainly contributes to the image of someone already perceived as obnoxious.
Still, fatty's baseline behavior is no better or worse than anyone else here and he was a significant personality on this site. While many of his posts were intentionally condescending or conceited, plenty of his posts were of merit and substance and while I likely (almost certainly) disagreed with their premise and/or conclusion, they were worth reading, if only to understand how other people think and to challenge my own opinions, assumptions and assertions.
Fatty being banned may be seen as a "win" for the liberal posting faction (fatty was always a positive contributor to actual climbing threads), but I'm not sure why you're rejoicing being left with the conservative opponents you have remaining, the majority of whom seem to think that posting political cartoons and parroting whatever is trending on conservative blogs at the moment is "debate" (an alarming number of you libs seem to think the same).
Supertopo without fatty is a much less interesting place and I will freely admit that both these forums and my political views are richer for having had him to spar with. My activity in the Supertopo political "campfire" has been extremely low these past couple of years and I see little reason to invest further in it with a poster like fatty gone.
|
|
HighDesertDJ
Trad climber
|
|
|
Jul 24, 2012 - 12:25pm PT
|
Perhaps you should read up on what "baseline" means. By your rationale fatty would have been banned 10 years ago.
|
|
philo
Trad climber
Somewhere halfway over the rainbow
|
|
|
Jul 24, 2012 - 12:26pm PT
|
It is neither a win nor a loss for ST. It is simply what it is.
Jeff brought it on himself. He knew the rules of the game and chose to repeatedly break them. He was on a short leash already and has only himself to blame.
|
|
|
SuperTopo on the Web
|
Let us know!