Requests

Are we allowed to request titles under the name, like Phon has the purveyor of enchantment and what not.

I would like to add Emancipator of ignorance and also Chameleon upon the stars under my name if I can.

Thank you. :slight_smile:

Not sure if that’s what you were looking for. The alternative is that you were asking to have two titles, which we can’t do. I’m happy to change it if you’d rather one or the other.

Carleas, you probably want to take the ‘also’ out of that.

While were at it, would you change my title to ‘philostopher’ in italics, please.

And Artimas, do us a favor and put like seven more huge pictures in your sig box.

Sorry, Zoot, I tested italics on myself with no success. Plain text only.

Also, I recommend disabling sigs. Instructions for how to do so are in my sig.

I have been thinking lately that my title is a bit much. However, I don’t know which one to part with, since they were given to me by mags, artimas, and benjs respectively. Oh, what to do.

That’s fine, thanks Carleas.

Like my name to remain as it is, but my Title to say insteadcof Not Fucking Hawaii

Fucking Unflushable

Also would like my posts increased to 1,000,000

A Tuna Sandwich too.

You can change your location (which I think you’re asking for) in the user control panel.

I can’t change your post count, sorry.

I can make you a sandwich, but I choose not to.

Sorry, I meant change Onasander to Fucking Unflushable

Done.

Carleas, can you change your location to someplace more interesting? How about Miami, or San Antonio, or Pasadena.

Only boring perverts and boring weirdoes live in DC.

One time, I left a Ethiopian Restaurant in DC, and went across the street to watch a play, and afterwards followed the Ethiopian’s directions to a bookstore on Avenue P/Street P (can’t recall) and just kept walking, and walking, till I hit the street, and couldn’t find the bookstore. I was buying up all the used books dealing with classic texts, history, and philosophy.

I finally saw a bookstore walking by it, bunch of guys in it going through the shelves, so I rushed in, and immediately started scanning, but almost everything was fiction from the 50 on, weird as shit titles like “When Harry Shagged Larry” and so on. I didn’t find anything in two minutes worth touching, and had rapidly moved to the rear of the store, and guys kept bumping into me. I saw to my right there was a magazine rack with guys going down on one another and was like “what the fuck is up with thus city” as no bookstore where I was from would proudly display pornography, much less gay pornography so openly.

I got to the back all the way, and there was a card rack, with guys all in their underwear, and paused, and looked around the used book store. The guys were all metrosexual, and the cashier was a Goth Girl, looking as strangely at me as I was her, and then I realized I was in a gay bookstore. I think it was called Lambda Books or something like that. What made it worst, I had been given a teeshirt from Greece, of the Parthenon with naked male athletes taken from a vase running. Sent the wrong fucking signal.

I got out of there as fast as I politely could, with Goth Chick laughing cracking a joke, and was out on the street, and was a bit mortified, but also dazed and confused. I just stared out into the street and walked the end of the block, crossed the road, and just stopped despondent staring down at the sidewalk in front of a big brown house.

A guy walked out of the house, and invited me in, saying I looked like someone who needed someone to talk to… boy, did I, talk about shock. I looked at the house, and guess what, it was the US Headquarters for the Scientologists!

I was happily Catholic, but had a tendency to go to other religious services to learn about them, and said sure. Made door guy quire happy.

I walked in, to my left was a fake as shit super office of L Ron Hubbard’s supposed office, giant globe, most of the books plastic sealed. Giant spinning globe.

Guy started asking me questions to determine my personality type, and I already had several years having learnt multiple typological systems, so went along with it, more curious in his technique than he was in typing me… It was a mixture of history questioning and typological questions… but he played off how I moved around the room, I would stop and point, and he would say “yeah, Hubbard did this or that in his life, just like you did” and it became rather odd as EVERYTHING had something to do with me.

I told them they needed to take the books out of plastic and put it in wax paper, as I had gotten yelled at by the librarian of congress in the rare books room the day before when we were discussing my book conservation techniques involving Saran wrap… it apparently traps the moisture, and he also said it was illegal for me to have a pen in the library, even if it was my lucky NASA spacepen that could write upside down in boiling water.

Guy was enthusiastic about it (guarantee nothing was ever unwrapped since) and was brought upstairs and shown all sorts of finger devices. He let me examine them, and sworn up and down they didn’t keep electronic records, and everything was private. I flipped the finger reader backwards, and saw a Ethernet and Internet port, and asked him about it. He looked at it absolutely shocked, said he never knew it was there, and sat it on the second floor piano at the top of the stairs, and invited me to sit in on someone having a reading done. I asked if it was private for her… he scrated his head and said yes, then closed the door on her, and said he knew what would be great for me, as he was very excited to have me, given how much I had in common with L Ron Hubbard.

He got on the phone, talking excited to some Australian woman, and said “Yeah, open it up, I’ll send him right over” and I was told I had guessed right, the office downstairs was a fake, L Ron’s real office was a block down the street. I was escorted down to it, door was unlocked, and was invited in.

I looked around, and it was a straight hallway, and a fake dividing walk, and a room to my right. Pictures of Hubbard when he was little, looked a but like me actually.

I walked around, intrigued as I was in his actual office, looking at actual momentos. I saw thus old army surplus WW2 metal dest, the kind that could take a tank shell in the side and keep upright, a fish tank- still with fish.

Doorbell had a glitch, and kept ringing, nobody there.

We got to talking, and she was interested in my Science Fiction work “Karnak” I was working on, and philosophy. She stepped out for a moment, I sat down at the desk, she came back silent and I was still in it, and apologized and stood up, and she said no issue, seemed like a good fit. I took that as kinda odd.

She kept talking and kept stressing the similarities between L Ron Hubbard and Me, and I was getting stumped by their conversion techniques, like, you don’t walk into a Lutheran church and are told by everyone “hey, your just like Luther” in their conversion process. She didn’t seem to be typing me anymore, and just had a generous interest in me, which was odd, as I was the one sight seeing.

I kept staring at their heart symbol on the wall, and something made me ask “You guys’… Do you guys believe in Reincarnation”? and turned my head quizzically looking at her, and she said “Funny thing you should ask, we’ve been meaning to talk to you about this” and at that point I started to shit myself, and my face just froze in a awkward smoke, and turned back to the image.

At that point, the doorbell rang, and I learn back to see over to the door, and a black guy was at the door, and said “Oh, someone is here” and she said “Really, were closed” and I said yep, and lead the way, but the door was locked from the inside! She said it was for security reasons and would get the door, said she recognized the guy through the glass, opened it just enough to let him in and I inserted my foot to get it open just a bit more and said I had to go.

She was all dissapointed and wanted me to stay, but I insisted and left, had to be somewhere.

That night, I tried to eat a Oyster and broke out in deep sweats staring at it for 20 minutes before tossing it into the back of my throat without contact to my tongue, and went to Shakesphere Company and got tickets in the upper most far back rear row (two or three stories above the stage, I couldn’t make out faces) of Christopher Marlowe’s Tamburlaine… that play was awesome, they had the biggest drums I ever seen along the backdrop, guys hammering it with drumsticks as big as a midget in each hand. Some 50 year old woman kept hitting on me, showing too much wrinkly clevage. Her younger husband sat on the other side of me, which was weird, plenty of seats everywhere. I wasn’t for conversation, and it only afterwards occurred to me what was the ulterior motive.

Still, a kick ass play, isn’t even played every century, so I’m grateful.

Everyone in DC wants to arrest me cause I got a Space Pen, or molest me, or convert me so I can become their resurrected messiah, or get me involved in their funky old swinging orgy. The only person I came across in that whole city that was willing to give me my space was that fucking oyster.

You shouldn’t live there, only weirdos and freaks live there, and they are all boring, lame weirdos and freaks.

m.youtube.com/watch?v=_R552UFoXaA

(Almost forgot, Captain Sisko from Star Trek: Deep Space 9 plain Timur. I was humming the star trek theme whenever the drums were not going. Avery Brook’s head really shines under the lights of the theater. I had a little green scortch mark in my eyes from where his shiny head was from the show. I don’t know how he gets it so shiny, turtle wax or something.)