12% False

Posted By on October 12, 2007

“90% Of What I Say Is True, The Other 12% Is Fabricated Nonsense…”

.: Oscar recently brought to my attention the copies of my old site available on Archive.org. I went through all the posts available there and cringed at most of them. They are worse than bad — a good chunk of them are nothing more than “Sorry for not posting updates” or something equally worthless. That said, there are a few random tidbits I found that I’d like to share with you. They made me smile; hopefully you will to.

.: But I saved your life that one time!

:-: You were the one who put me in danger!

.: Yeah, but then I saved you after that.

Lawn mower: 1
Snake: 0

(The following was a guest post written by Maine)

Why Adulthood Friggin’ Rules
# No, my parents don’t give me money for free, I have to work for it. But after I do work, I have a lot of damned money. We’re not talking some $30 a week allowance. Adults make that much money before we take an early lunch on Monday.

# My room is a mess. There’s junk everywhere. Even dirty dishes. And you know what? I’ll clean up later. When I want to.

# I cannot tell you how many times I’ve had sex. Somewhere in the thousands I figure. And every time was great.

# Hmm… what’s for dinner tonight? Pizza?! Again?! Oh, alright, you’re twisting my arm here…

# Homework? Yeah, I remember that. It sucked. It doesn’t still suck, does it, kids? Oh, it does? Oh well. I think I’ll go watch TV.

# I can (and will) go buy a beer. Then I’ll drink it in front of a cop and my parents.

# Sure, we give a lot of money to kids. We finance your lives. And what do we get in return? Spite. Scorn. Disrespect. Oh, and big, big money when its tax refund time. Thanks for the few thousand extra dollars, guys.

# I’m going to go out tonight. When am I coming home? Tomorrow, the next day, maybe. Maybe never. What do I care?

# Man, I’d sure like some new clothes… Hey, wait a minute. I’ll just go get some. Maybe I’ll get a t-shirt that says, “I’m the sh*t” and wear it in front of my mom.

# Man, life is sure hard. There are a lot of really tough things about the real world. Hey, maybe I’ll just call in sick to work then stay home to play video games and watch pr0n all day. It’ll make me feel better, and thanks to sick time, they’re going to pay me anyway. And if my parents call me to tell me that I’m making a mistake, I’ll just say, “Thanks for the advice,” and go back to my gaming.


.: I recommend keeping a spoon in your pocket at all times, in case you find a container of ice cream lying around (like I did today).

(Something Susan once told me)

.: Yeah, my mom wrote a book once. It was about this machine that would let men feel sex through the woman’s point of view. She gave it to me to proofread. It’s really kinda awkward reading a sex scene written by your mother.

(From another conversation with Susan)

.: You’re right and wrong: you can stimulate the brain, but you can’t actually control what they do.

:-: Sure you can.

.: Well, you can twitch their arm, but you can’t control what it does.

:-: Yes, yes, you can. You don’t understand science.

.: It just doesn’t work that way! The stimulators they use are very crude, just two electrodes conncected to a battery. It’s not meant for controlling people; it’s designed for mapping out individual brains. That said, controlling people would fucking rule.

:-: There are better stimulators. And a true neurogsurgeon is an artist. It can be done.

.: Not yet, it can’t. Especially not voice. You can make ’em moan and groan, but language is a different thing entirely.

:-: Please, stop denying the truth and the accuracy of science.

.: I’m not denying it, I’m clarifying it!

:-: You’re living in the past. Accept progress!

.: It hasn’t happened yet! I know this shit! I watch Discovery Science! I will stay up at three in the morning, absorbing knowledge.

:-: TV doesn’t know neurology.

.: The last book I read was Conversations with Neil’s Brain. There’s an entire chapter devoted to the very thing you speak of!

:-: It can be done. Your chapter is outdated.

.: It was revised and republished in 2003!

:-: Is today June 14th 2003?

.: In Australia, yes.

:-: No, it’s 2004.

.: Not in Australia, it isn’t.

:-: Australia doesn’t know neurosurgery.

.: Do you live in Australia? Do you know any Australians? Are you qualified to say Australia doesn’t know neurosurgery? I don’t think you are.

:-: I know an Aussie neurosurgeon. He admits that he’s woefully undereducated.

.: You ever wake up at six in the morning in a motel room and see your eighth grade algebra teacher stroll by with nothing on but a towel?

.: What’s this one have in it? It’s just . . grey.

:-: Oh, those are my mother’s ashes.

.: You framed your mother’s ashes?!

:-: Not only that, but look closer—it’s also an ant farm!

.: A turtle without a weapon is just a turtle.

.: Um, excuse me, but your dog needs to be on a leash.

:-: But … I’m holding him.

.: Well he still needs to be on a leash.

:-: Look, he’s all right. Leash or no leash, I’m holding him.

.: The sign says all pets must be on a leash. You know there’s a fine?

:-: There should be a fine for bothering people. I mean, you’re not even a cop; you’re just a crossing guard.

.: Well excuse me for thinking about the children’s safety. What do you think will happen if your dog just jumps out of your hands? How do I know you’ll be able to hang onto him?

:-: What will happen if I let go of my dog? The same thing that would happen if I let go of my dog’s leash! It’s not even like he can do much damage if he wanted to—he’s eight fucking inches long.

.: The sign still says all dogs must be on a leash. Do you see anywhere where it says “all dogs must be on a leash unless it’s only eight inches long”?

:-: It says “pets”, actually, not “dogs”.

.: Whatever, that’s not important.

:-: Actually, I think it is. I’ve got a bird at home that I want to bring outside—should I put him on a leash as well?

.: You’re missing the poin—

:-: Ah, fuck off.

.: Now that I have money, I feel much better as a person.

Things My Psychology Teacher Liked to Say

.: Don’t test me.

.: I’m so glad we don’t have to accomplish anything in this class.

.: Get out of the chair.

.: Watch the movie.

.: One more time and I’ll write you up.

.: What’s your name?

.: No.

.: You can’t just walk out of class!

.: I don’t want to talk about it!

.: Give me food and I won’t count you tardy.

.: Read chapter three.

.: I don’t care.


.: I can’t bring myself to tell you . . . so I’ll let this talking cow say it instead.

.: I was humped by a dolphin. That’s my distinction.

.: There was this one kid in New Braunfels whose nose was upturned like the tips of elve’s shoes. It was kind of weird looking, so I never talked to him much. When he did talk to me, I didn’t listen—he had an ugly nose.

On Interstate 30

.: You know what’s fun? Driving seven hours to visit someone you really want to see for the weekend.

.: You know what’s not fun? Driving back.

.: I went to Arkansas this weekend. Do you have any idea how long it takes to watch the little needle on my gas gauge go from F to E? Well, about as long as it takes to drive to the middle of Arkansas from Waco.

About The Author


2 Responses to “12% False”

  1. Chad says:

    Funny how as soon as I hit comments (about 3 minutes after loading the page), all the graphics appear. Slow server I guess.

    Lawn mower: 1
    Snake: 0

    LOL! Now I remember why I bookmarked you. Great site. You know I visited this site for about, I think, nearly a month before I realized all the people in the photo on the top of the page were the same person.

  2. dude says:

    funny stuff, just randomly passin thru…

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