Speaking for myself, I’m calling on the demon Pazuzu to rain misfortune down on my earthly enemies. My usual Saturday morning, post-breakfast routine in the ritual chamber.
Yeah, I know, the Babylonian canon is kinda over-invoked, but it’s for a reason. Pazuzu is like the reliable Ford F-150 of demons.
I need some power and a saddle for my tiger so I am invoking the Power of Greyskull.
I’m mounting my purple panther and will be heading out from Snake Mountain this afternoon.
Gorgo, Mormo, Thousand Faced Moon.
I’m invoking the power of racism.
I’m hoping it kills these two Indians that my coworker and I are babysitting this weekend. I’m asking the gods of racism to kill these two assholes within the next 90 minutes so we don’t have to spend the day with them.
I’m calling on Cthulhu to annihilate Donald Trump… or at least drive him so crazy, he can’t possibly run for President.
I’m calling on Cthulhu to annihilate Donald Trump… or at least drive him so crazy, he can’t possibly run for President.
I’m actually working now to get Chthulhu on the ballot so that he can make a serious run at the presidency.
A Chthulhu / Morgoth ticket is the only solution to the problems this country faces. Git up, get out 'n VOTE!!!
[reply]I’m calling on Cthulhu to annihilate Donald Trump… or at least drive him so crazy, he can’t possibly run for President.
I’m actually working now to get Chthulhu on the ballot so that he can make a serious run at the presidency.
A Chthulhu / Morgoth ticket is the only solution to the problems this country faces. Git up, get out 'n VOTE!!![/reply]
Everything above, including your signature (which didn’t copy for some reason, but has me fondly remembering the Transformers Movie), is gold. FTW, Tomasz.
Everything above, including your signature (which didn’t copy for some reason, but has me fondly remembering the Transformers Movie), is gold. FTW, Tomasz.
Hey, I try lol…“The Touch” is a source of constant in-jokes among my friends and me, it’s like the crown jewel of cornball “sports / fighting / learning to be a ‘winner’ montage” jams.
At some point we had a plan to pretend we were the song’s original composer, Stan Bush, and we were going to send demo tapes in the style of that song to every movie and TV studio we could think of. We figured that the rejection letters alone would make this bizarre art project worth carrying out. Sadly, I think one night of extremely drunk jamming, punctuated by bursts of juvenile laughter, is as far as we ever got towards that goal.
I’m invoking all the powers of the Universe to make James Patterson drop dead. Yes, I want him to die. Painfully and repeatedly.
They were still alive when we picked them up, DJ, but I’ll give the racist gods a partial win as we were back by 6 and arranged a car service to take the back to the airport today so I don’t have to see their sorry asses again for quite some time.