The Drivel Thread

[Light Housework]

Morrissey spontaneously singing a common given name is not unusual. But if in a couple weeks Light Housework posts pictures of Morrissey in her apartment admiring her paintings, then my interest in her god will perk up. A skeptic might say it's photoshop ("deep fake!"), but if a day later the same pictures show up on Morrissey Central captioned, "I LOVE KAREN, I LOVE SHARON," then I'll have to think that something extraordinary is going on. Because what are the odds that Morrissey would decide to fall in love with a lonely schizophrenic in Vancouver? The skeptic might still say there's an explanation. "She's hacked Morrissey Central" or "she bribed Rayner to post it," but at every step, the confidence in this god would have to go up. This god could justify its own existence.

Well, we'll see if he wants to be photographed admiring my paintings, or looking at me, or standing with me in front of my paintings, or both of us looking at them, or one of us looking at them and the other looking at the person doing the looking. I'm hoping that he'll come see me when he gets a break from touring.

 

[Light Housework]

I would love to perk up your interest in my God.

 

[Light Housework]

Our God

 

[Lucifer Sam]

Well, we'll see if he wants to be photographed admiring my paintings, or looking at me, or standing with me in front of my paintings, or both of us looking at them, or one of us looking at them and the other looking at the person doing the looking. I'm hoping that he'll come see me when he gets a break from touring.

You're in luck. After tonight's concert, he has a two-month break before Mexico City. He'll likely be back to living out of his luxury villa at the Sunset Marquis, and when he tires of his assignations with various pink-haired tattooed Angeleñas, your god will (presumably) give him the heavenly graces to feel like taking a drive with Gelato in the Mini Cooper up the Pacific Coast Highway, to take in the September scenery and end in Vancouver, to paint and cuddle with you. "I feel strangely compelled, Damon. Pack our bags. And don't forget my oak-handled lather brush. I want to look my best for (singing) Sha-ron, Sha-ron, Sha-ah-ha-ron."

 

[Light Housework]

You're in luck. After tonight's concert, he has a two-month break before Mexico City. He'll likely be back to living out of the Sunset Marquis, and when he tires of his assignations with various pink-haired tattooed Angeleñas, your god will (presumably) give him the heavenly graces to feel like taking a drive with Gelato in the Mini Cooper up the Pacific Coast Highway, to take in the September scenery and end in Vancouver, to paint and cuddle with you. "I feel strangely compelled, Damon. Pack our bags. And don't forget my oak-handled lather brush. I want to look my best for (singing) Sha-ron, Sha-ron, Sha-ah-ha-ron."

Aww, so romantic!!!

 

[Barking]

Dear Aubrey Housework and Light my fate

My friends. Quick intervention here (a Divine one? You decide!): You may both be paying far too much attention to a silly singer's sharonesque shenanigans. Sharon's name is similar to sharing, and that's all there is to note here: that she wears it well, as sharing is in her nature. End of.

Now: quick advice to afore mentioned singing douche, just in case he's toying with the idea, and he did say the name on purpose: don't even think of starting mind games here. You're evidently too stupid and self-centred to see the harm they could cause. For some people, the cost of paying undue attention to you is a mere (although extravagant!) waste of time ( some like spending money on useless things, some like spending time on useless people...Let's hope it's less harmful for the planet...).
For others, a name, a nod, can have dangerous consequences. Some people really don't need that. Something to send them over the edge. (Actually, nobody needs your perverse acknowledgements ever in their lives. Did you really need to be reminded?)

So you try that again, I'll send someone to break your Nutsack's legs.
Anyway, you're old. Nobody who's strong is paying any attention to you. Nobody is looking up. We're all staring down. At our graves. You especially, Boomerrissey ( Me I opted for cremation. Nothing like the smell of burnt hot dog on a foggy autumn morning in 3024...).
With so little time, shouldn't you focus on figuring out how to prevent deep sea mining instead of succumbing to meaningless senile silliness every day of your life like this? Stay well away from the lost, the lonely, the ones who search for humanity in the wrong places!
Stay with your own kind: arrogant pampered materialistic dimwits.


Also, besides leaving the living alone, I suggest you leave dead people you know next to nothing about alone as well, rather than using their death to moan about your own career...

-Why did the narcisdist go to the funeral?
-To look for a record contract.

...

-Knock knock.
-who's there?
-it's Death.
-Death who?
-Stop playing for time, Boomerrissey.

and don't interrupt my dog days again.

 

[Light Housework]

Dear Aubrey Housework and Light my fate

My friends. Quick intervention here (a Divine one? You decide!): You may both be paying far too much attention to a silly singer's sharonesque shenanigans. Sharon's name is similar to sharing, and that's all there is to note here: that she wears it well, as sharing is in her nature. End of.

Now: quick advice to afore mentioned singing douche, just in case he's toying with the idea, and he did say the name on purpose: don't even think of starting mind games here. You're evidently too stupid and self-centred to see the harm they could cause. For some people, the cost of paying undue attention to you is a mere (although extravagant!) waste of time ( some like spending money on useless things, some like spending time on useless people...Let's hope it's less harmful for the planet...).
For others, a name, a nod, can have dangerous consequences. Some people really don't need that. Something to send them over the edge. (Actually, nobody needs your perverse acknowledgements ever in their lives. Did you really need to be reminded?)

So you try that again, I'll send someone to break your Nutsack's legs.
Anyway, you're old. Nobody who's strong is paying any attention to you. Nobody is looking up. We're all staring down. At our graves. You especially, Boomerrissey ( Me I opted for cremation. Nothing like the smell of burnt hot dog on a foggy autumn morning in 3024...).
With so little time, shouldn't you focus on figuring out how to prevent deep sea mining instead of succumbing to meaningless senile silliness every day of your life like this? Stay well away from the lost, the lonely, the ones who search for humanity in the wrong places!
Stay with your own kind: arrogant pampered materialistic dimwits.


Also, besides leaving the living alone, I suggest you leave dead people you know next to nothing about alone as well, rather than using their death to moan about your own career...

-Why did the narcisdist go to the funeral?
-To look for a record contract.

...

-Knock knock.
-who's there?
-it's Death.
-Death who?
-Stop playing for time, Boomerrissey.

and don't interrupt my dog days again.

I find you funny, and Morrissey probably does too, but don't attack his nutsack or I'll have to attack you, though you're a cute dog.

 

[nicky wire's legs]

Morrissey spontaneously singing a common given name is not unusual. But if in a couple weeks Light Housework posts pictures of Morrissey in her apartment admiring her paintings, then my interest in her god will perk up. A skeptic might say it's photoshop ("deep fake!"), but if a day later the same pictures show up on Morrissey Central captioned, "I LOVE KAREN, I LOVE SHARON," then I'll have to think that something extraordinary is going on. Because what are the odds that Morrissey would decide to fall in love with a lonely schizophrenic in Vancouver? The skeptic might still say there's an explanation. "She's hacked Morrissey Central" or "she bribed Rayner to post it," but at every step, the confidence in this god would have to go up. This god could justify its own existence.

honestly, i cant believe this dumbshit response from you, aubrey. im shaking my head in bafflement that you think it's appropriate to not only entertain, but expand upon, a schizophrenics delusions, creating what-if and could-be scenarios that surely you realize could only serve to reify the delusions of the schizophrenic in question. ill bet light housework feels like a pig in shit right now, thinking "at last! it's coming true! at last! someone seems to believe me!!"

well if it's got her to brush her teeth, i suppose it's not all bad. her mental health worker who probably gags on her old man shiteating breath is probably grateful for that anyway. but i predict she's got another visit to the nuthouse in store.

 

[nicky wire's legs]

I don't know, but something is taking God's focus away from true suffering. I assume it must be all the prayers for mundane things like passing a math test or finding lost keys. Because he seems to come through on some of that stuff, while the scale of true suffering only increases.

well, maybe its a bit like jordan petersons admonishment to clean your room. humans possess the means to ending suffering in the world (surely a gods intervention is not needed to end world hunger and it's pretty f***ing stupid to say that god allows that when humans are actually the ones who created it and allow it), but maybe they need to get themselves in order first. little things have a ripple effect. like god will help you find your keys but he expects you to drive somewhere worthwhile.

 

[ZOOM FROM GLOOM]

well, maybe its a bit like jordan petersons admonishment to clean your room. humans possess the means to ending suffering in the world (surely a gods intervention is not needed to end world hunger and it's pretty f***ing stupid to say that god allows that when humans are actually the ones who created it and allow it), but maybe they need to get themselves in order first. little things have a ripple effect. like god will help you find your keys but he expects you to drive somewhere worthwhile.

 

[Light Housework]

When his sings "You don't need to find another wife.", just afterwards he grabs his chin and rotates his head to look at Carmen. I don't blame him. She's wonderful, and probably fertile.

 

[Light Housework]

I trust that he loves me too.

 

[Mimi Ramone]

When his sings "You don't need to find another wife.", just afterwards he grabs his chin and rotates his head to look at Carmen. I don't blame him. She's wonderful, and probably fertile.

WTF?!

 

[nicky wire's legs]

WTF?!

Exactly. WTF.

 

[Was I ever any good]

Shazzz, isn’t it great that all these people flock to your thread, and not one of them realise your fantastic sense of humour?

Are we still on for a December wedding??

Is Rifkie still gonna be your chief
Bridesmaid???

I’ll ask Audrey to be my best man….
Or the vicar

 

[Light Housework]

He's probably pissed off at me to the gills for talking about his private life here, and I'll never see him again, except at a concert.

 

[Light Housework]

Shazzz, isn’t it great that all these people flock to your thread, and not one of them realise your fantastic sense of humour?

Are we still on for a December wedding??

Is Rifkie still gonna be your chief
Bridesmaid???

I’ll ask Audrey to be my best man….
Or the vicar

Aw thanks Baz. You've made me feel better.

 

[nicky wire's legs]

the last couple of pages went from funny to so so sad

 

[Light Housework]

yeah

 

[nicky wire's legs]

this is a very confused and sick individual and baz and aubrey with their willingness to blur the lines and play loose with interpretations and indulge what-if scenarios have just made it a thousand times worse