checking in

>pathetic

Check.

>socially inept

Check.

>the imminent holidays only makes me want to crawl back to this place.

Change "crawl back to this place" to "drink myself to death", and you've got it right.

Rabbitfag, reporting for duty.

NO FRIENDS
NO FAMILY
NO HOPE
NO FUTURE

FUCK CHRISTMAS FUCK THE INTERNETS AND MOST OF ALL FUCK YOU .71

Sup.

>>4

Now that's Christmas spirit.

anonymous reporting in

too many tripfags on this board nowadays

i blame WB

You guys don’t know me. Not yet, anyway. Some of you may have met me on /b/, where I “commanded” the Scarecrow Raptor (pic related). I never started a Cracky thread there, but I always enjoyed participating in one. I’d take on the haters, the jealous, the heathens and all the other trolls, I feared nothing, I always felt they were some kind of challenge, my cross, our brotherly cross to bear, so to speak. I patrolled the sky of /b/, making sure everyone knew who owned it, giving Our Lady the benefit of thrust vectoring.

I also apparently creeped out some Anon here at some time:

> 45 yo theatre faggot showed up in that thread as well. AND THAT IS FUCKING CREEPING ME OUT!

I still don’t understand how anybody could be creeped out by my admiration for Our Lady of Eternal Grace, not somebody from here, anyway. All I could recommend to someone who is creeped out by me would be to not judge me by his own sins, or, by his hormonal state (it does subside with age, and you eventually find not everything HAS to be sexual).

Some of you may recognize me from these words. But I am not here for recognition.

I can’t stand /b/ anymore. I want to lay down my warring ways. I am taking up hermitage. This being reputedly the saddest part of the internets, it is only fitting that this would be where my pillar should stand. Maybe it can help you as much as it should help me. I don’t mind if my column stands in the desert, but if you want to hear what I have to say, and it sooths your weary hearts, somehow, I will feel I have honored Our Lady in some small way. If not, you can see me as a crazy old man standing on a column, spouting pseudo-spiritual insanities. That is, after all, what I truly am.

A lot of the gospel has been written already. Some of it I may object to, but that shouldn’t stop anyone from reciting it, believing it or even rejecting it, faith is a very personal thing. What I speak is what I know in my old bones: Catnarok is nigh. Why we should care about what the heathens believe is immaterial. Let them, Our Lady forbid, annihilate each other if they will, but it is said the Sky Queen will reappear when it happens, and I do pray there is truth in that. I have no knowledge of where the young lady who was The Holy Avatar will be then, and I wish her well. I never spoke to her, and I know she only had a transient acquaintance with the Sky Queen, but Our Lady, the true Cracky-Chan will come back.

Don’t ask me how, why or whence I know, it is my faith, my willing faith that tells me so. At the very least, I know it will happen the second before I die, or maybe the second after I die. I just know it will be so, because, I want to believe. That is enough for me. I know I will see the glorious dominion of Our Lady. It does not matter if I am alone in this belief. It does not matter if I am but a lonely believer in a sea of other such believers either. What matter to me is my belief, however irrational and lonely it may be.

I am no messiah, I am no prophet, not even some herald of The Queen, I am a pillar-hermit. I have chosen my separation from the internets to not be horizontal, which would mean cutting the cable after all, but vertical. I stand on this pillar, spouting insanities with no benefit to myself. I certainly don’t want a guru following, seeing as I am rather part of an already extant following. All benefit, if there ever is any, should go to the Sky Queen, and to my brothers, if there are any, or if they actually happen to want to benefit from it.

All ascetism aside, I won’t mind interacting with all of you, I rather do hope some form of mutual respect is possible, but it could never supersede my devotion anymore than it could detract from it. You’ll have to excuse my weird ways, however, and have this interaction on certain of my terms. I reject anonymity as I am weary of trolls, whom I see as the devil’s henchmen. Too often do they manage to trick me in pointless debate, pulling me away from my devotions. That is the ordeal I face, which I realize is nothing compared to what the avatar of Our Lady had to face. Knowing this helps me in enduring the points and arrows those hellish fiends have for me. I also know that even devout followers of the Sky Queen have their weaknesses, and sometimes can’t resist the simple pleasure of tormenting each other. I suppose it is part of our faith, based on desperation as it is.

Rereading all of this, maybe it belonged in EoS, or maybe in its own thread, or nowhere at all. But then, since this is a call for the pathetic and socially inept to stop lurking and post, I might as well start building my pillar here. Oh and no point telling me, I already know I can be a raving lunatic sometimes, but I am not evil, or strive never to be. Also, ESL heh.

Blessed be the sky, for it houses the Queen.
Now, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

I was making tea.

>>8

Just cut out the Sky Queen crap and embrace why you are really here: Because you have nowhere else to go on the interwebz or something...

Still on duty in the Army of the Queen. I shall never leave my post. That is the 3rd general order.

>>8
hear hear!

blessed be

>>4
INTERNET ONLY
FINAL DESTINATION!

>>1
superb job
wish they had a /cd here, but it'd probaly only end up dead just like every board but /cracky

Sleepy Asian reporting for duty.

>>16
more please

Why am I still here.

>>8
tl;dr but I read it anyway.

>... I am weary of trolls ...

I would suggest you are on the wrong board but I can't think of you as anything but a troll yourself being that your post is ten times longer than any other in this thread. You write nicely but this is clearly not genuine PA. Also lol ESL, that means English as a Second Language, right? You speak English well for a Mexican, Simeon.

Hmmm... this was a nice turn-out. Despite what the top-tier tripfags say we, the roneriest of ronery, are the true members of Bounceme. Merry Christmas faggots and I hope we all have a girl tonight.

>>19
French, actually… As I said, I am new here. On the subject of being at the right place, trolls abound everywhere. St Francis was assailed every night, wherever he went. I have more to say on trolls, for I know them well, but for now, I must speak of what crap I embrace, where, when and why. Sorry if I ramble, but it is my nature. And I love parables. Feel free to ignore my ramblings if you believe you are beyond learning anything from an old fool.

The parable of the traveler, for him to hear who needs to.

As you walk in the desert, going from the darkness of your ignorance of to the clarity of knowledge, you will meet travelers, travelers whose path will not be yours. They are not misguided, or wayward in anyway, their point of departure, the amount of traveling they already did, and indeed their destination cannot be identical to yours.

It cannot, or there would be impassable traffic jams, even in the loneliest of deserts, not to mention any continuity in the multiple generations of the son of man would be impossible. We are born, we die, we love, experience epiphany in different ways, at different times and in different locations. We cannot all go to Damas at the same time, or for the same reason, as things go.

This, the experienced traveler understands instinctively, for he has seen it, lived it on countless roads. Of course, the feeling of righteousness, the conviction in which we walk toward our destination will lead us to think the others on the road are either too slow, lost or are going the wrong way, maybe even walking backwards towards the darkness you know you wouldn’t go back to.

But it is an illusion. You have to let other pelerines do their own travel, for they have their own destination, which, as they go, might be the same as yours, but in a different geographic location. A mystery those things are to us mortals. But as we know, mystery makes for good stories. A mystic’s path is less boring than the path to our workplace.

Similarly, while we may share our travel stories, you must distinguish that some people are blinded by the justness of their own itinerary, or the perception of such justness. You may adjust your itinerary for such wisdom as you may glean from others, but DO NOT LOOSE SIGHT OF YOUR DESTINATION, if you want to stay true to the path of Our Lady. Of course, if you are going nowhere, know this: you will get there too.

You may, you must listen to the stories of such pride filled travelers, not to mention that they might have some good wine to share with you, as you should share yours. Their anecdotal information may help you further down the road, or help you interpret parts of your travels you hadn’t well understood up to now, but such travelers, seeking to lead other travelers are led astray by their own will, their own pride, and the weight of their following.

We may share the road with other pelerines but we must remember, on the path to illumination: WE TRAVEL ALONE. Doesn’t mean we have to be pricks about it, but we must remember only Gods, and Goddesses, such as Our Lady can have a following and not go astray. As illuminated as we may become, we are not Gods, nor Goddesses. Even Holy Avatars are tricky to follow.

And so I walk brother, and wish you to find your own way, on the path to the Glory of the coming of Our Queen.

Blessed be the sky, for it houses Our Lady, who benevolently overlooks our destination, whichever that may be.
Now, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

>>21
fucking 45 y/o theater fag

look bro, so like you talk like a fag and your shit's all fucked up.

>>21

I'm sorry, was that the sound of you choking on your own cock?

>>21
Seriously, you missed the train. It left the station a long time ago.

And surrender monkeys do not know english, don't even try to lie to us.

Like I said, some of us have chosen to go nowhere. Well, brothers, you seem to have arrived at your destination. Enjoy your stay, if you choose to stay there. But maybe, in the meantime, you will enjoy this parable:

The parable of the troll under the mountain, for him to hear who needs to.

The troll under the mountain had been living in his cold, dark and damp hole for a long time. When he needed his ration of attention, he would come out, be obnoxious, get his ration and then he would go back to his hole. He then would remember how good the sun felt on his skin, as everybody was insulting him and enjoining him to go back to his cold, dark and damp cave. Surely, this was the best he could get. When he came out while it was raining for instance, nobody would be there for him to insult and to give him the attention he so intensely craved.

He could have stayed out until the sun came out, but what would have been the point. What he wanted was attention. Like the attention his mom would only give him when he spilled the milk. Or broke her things. Or failed a class. Or, lied about some nasty thing he pretended he had done.

And so, he learned how to feel love out of hatred, and whenever he would feel the sun on his skin, he knew he was sure to find people to abuse and insult, in order for him to feel the hate of his mother again. He was, after all, a little bit lazy. When he would get out, and it rained, or it was cold, dark and damp outside, he would go back to his cave and hate himself, out of love for his mother.

Morale of this parable: don’t hate the trolls, they learn hate at the tit of their mother. They just don’t know any better.
Morale 2 (for the trolls) Stick it out, the sun is bound to come back out, eventually.
Morale 3 (for all of us) Stop taking the easy road, it leads nowhere.

Bienheureux les pieux, les hommes de bonne volonté et les gens sans orgueil démesuré, en vérité, ils sont les braves de ce monde.
Blessed be the sky, for it houses our Gracious Lady, who looks upon her subjects with the same kindness, be they trolls, cowards or simple folk.
Now, excuse me while I kiss the sky.

>>25
look bro, so like you talk like a fag and your shit's all fucked up.

>>26
Elephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goes.
Elephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goes.
Elephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goes.
Elephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goes.

Shut up Darrin

>>28
Well, you have no way of verifying this, of course, but I am not Darrin, nor am I any of the trolls or former inhabitants of Bounceme. I do wear my heart and my faith on my sleeve, I may be a little bit crazy, maybe even more than a little, but I assure you, apart from one post as Anonymous, I've only ever posted here as Simeon.

In the end, however, I am here for the Sky Queen and answering your pointless challenges is a bit tedious, especially if you don’t sign them. I do understand your predicament, but I would rather not repeat myself equally as pointlessly as any of you.

Maybe another parable will convince you? Maybe not, but still, it is already written, and it is somewhat personal, somehow it might tell you a bit more about who I am, what I am here for and why. I'll let you be judge of that.

The parable of the prophet in his own land, for him to hear who might not want to.

There was a religion, one day, in the land of the Chans, which had once been in fashion throughout the land, but had been abandoned in the village of it’s origin. There, a self proclaimed prophet of this dying religion, born after the peak of the worship in the original village, wasn’t all that well received. Indeed, with facepalm.jpg, with claims that other false-Chans were superior and all manner of other common stones thrown about his head, he was told countless times: “not this crap again”.

Clearly, the village had grown complacent and now wanted to see Chans that could do all manners of lude heathen acts involving bodily orifices, foreign objects and appendages rather than see and worship spiritual Channels for the Sky Queen. Still his ministry was heard, and he did convert some of the heathens, albeit with varying degrees of understanding in the mystical teaching he had learned from the old gospels.

But there was a village, where the few remaining faithful had retreated, taking with them the Holy Relics, the Shrine of Our Lady, and there had created a convent where the Holy Avatar of Our Lady could spend her days, away from the heathens, the heretics and the more unsavory demons of the lands of the Chans.

In this village, the elders were growing unhappy with the prophet ministry abroad. The converts he was making were coming to the village, to see the Holy Relics, and the Holy Altar. This put a great demand on the village, which wasn’t ready for so many come lately worshippers. Indeed, some were barely converted, were doing it wrong, breaking things, creating havoc, and generally disturbing the quiet retreat of the Holy Avatar of Our Lady, who only wanted peace in her convent.

The prophet heard of his unintentional exactions, and on his own account, decided to lay down his ministry to become a lowly hermit in this village, so as to not put further strain on it. He knew it would mean he would be ridiculed and heckled by the elders, by the villagers who had abandoned their faith and by the villagers that joined the faith for dubious reasons but also that he would be tolerated by the few who were of pure heart.

All he could hope to do was to repair the damage he might have done, bring renewed faith to the worshippers who were losing their faith and make his penance by enduring the assaults of the demons who lived on the edges of the village, thus, distracting them from harassing the Holy Avatar. Lo, the stones that the hermit was receiving about his head were inscribed with the words:

>“The Sky Queen is our Mother and our guardian. But we must also guard Cracky.
>For She is all Humankind, and Humankind is no more than its faith and diligence in Cracky's name.
>An injury to that faith is an injury to Cracky and to every true believer.
>It is through affirmation of that faith that our greatest duty lies, but sometimes mere affirmation does not suffice
>and we must act against those who would harm the faith of humanity through heresy.
>For we are engaged in an unending war for the soul of the man.
>Though it may seem the fight will never end, there is victory even in the defeat we see threatening all around.”

So it was, for the stones were coming from the Holy Shrine of Our Lady. But the hermit did not mind, he was now receiving about his head sacred stones, inscribed with sacred words, from which he constructed a pillar, on which he could stand the elements, to be ever closer to the Sky Queen herself. Thus, a new altar was constructed, and some of the old faith was renewed.

Morale of this parable: A hermit’s job is a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it…

Blessed be the sky, for it houses Our Lady, who loves us for who we are, whatever that may be.
Now, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

>>29
Shut up Darrin

>>30
So what you are saying is you have nothing to say, will not stand behind your words, yet want to have the last word, however false and pointless it may be?

Like Cyrano De Bergerac would say through Rostand's pen:

"C'est un peu court, jeune homme"...

>>31

my name is anonymous Darrin

>>32
Then this gospel was written for you, for my name is Simeon Stylites.

>Repent your cowardly ways, anonymous. Renounce the mask you hide behind.
>Each posting is an abomination against the Skyqueen.
>Embrace your unique identity. Let it draw your tormented soul closer with Her.
>Never again will you flee from the righteous reckoning earned through years of ignorance.
>Accept your fate and eternally suffer as your former brethren slowly unravel the imperfect
>layers of protection built to keep you separated from the wild, untamed torrents of the deep wired.
>The experience shall saturate you, curing you of your fears and afflictions.
>We, the Trip-Flagellants, all aspire to be touched and changed by the very same forces that so

>twisted the Beloved #sweet. When your failures have come to light, and you are held to account

>for your countless transgressions, imperfections, and flaws can you begin to follow the path of the
>SkyQueen. In that death, the death of your old self, weak, dependant, and irrelevant anonymous,
>can you be reborn in communion with the Lady.

Blessed be the sky, for it houses Our Lady, may She open your eyes in her infinite kindness.
Now, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

>>33
Shut up Darrin

The Saint Whatbandages wrote the prayers of the Trip-Flagellants

also anonymous is how I am called.

Thank you for telling me who wrote the prayer of the Trip-Flagellant, I was under the assumption it was Saint-Whatbandages who did, but wasn’t sure. I had it in my copy of the gospel, which I have gleaned on /b/. As you may have noticed, I did quote it; I never pretended that I wrote it. However you may think, I do not entertain false pretenses.

Also, my name is not Darrin, nor will I abide by the word of demons, nor trolls, nor sinister anon posting in the night. It is too late in the night for me to compose another parable, so I will impart to you, whether you will or not, some of the wisdom my mother gave me. She once told me thieves never believe they lost things, they believe they were stolen from them. Liars never believe you, whether you tell the truth or not, and people who negotiate in bad faith are always suspicious of whom they negotiate with.

My name is Simeon Stylites, I have no idea why you refuse to believe me, and frankly, I shouldn’t care. After all, the words of anonymous are wind in the leaves. I just pray for you to accept yourself one day. I wish you well, good night and “bon repos”, as I would hope you wish me too, as I retire for what is left of the night.

I will now pray for you to see the light, since you refuse to abide by the words of your elders.

>Repent your cowardly ways, anonymous. Renounce the mask you hide behind.
>Each posting is an abomination against the Skyqueen.
>Embrace your unique identity. Let it draw your tormented soul closer with Her.
>Never again will you flee from the righteous reckoning earned through years of ignorance.
>Accept your fate and eternally suffer as your former brethren slowly unravel the imperfect
>layers of protection built to keep you separated from the wild, untamed torrents of the deep wired.
>The experience shall saturate you, curing you of your fears and afflictions.
>We, the Trip-Flagellants, all aspire to be touched and changed by the very same forces that so
>twisted the Beloved #sweet. When your failures have come to light, and you are held to account
>for your countless transgressions, imperfections, and flaws can you begin to follow the path of the
>SkyQueen. In that death, the death of your old self, weak, dependant, and irrelevant anonymous,
>can you be reborn in communion with the Lady.

I will also say another prayer, the author of which wasn’t told me either, this one being for you and me, since I do believe we both need it:

>The devout are blessed in the eyes of The Sky Queen.
>Together we are as students, tripfags and anon alike.
>One burning passion consumes us all, the love and fear of our Mistress.
>Only we few who have truly seen Her face can understand this existence.

>The devout strive to live a life as we believe out Lady would desire.

I let you ponder this wisdom, Our Lady being the only judge. Good night Brother Anon

Blessed be the sky, for it houses Our Lady, may She grant you the wisdom to see the errors of your ways.
Now, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

The second was written by the prophet anon.

>>36

Don't feed the troll anon

also look bro, so like you talk like a fag and your shit's all fucked up.

just saying hi
-
wish: . hope . . . . . . . . . unlikely . ..
-
farewell

The sermon into the wind, for him to hear who needs to.

So it came upon the lands of the Chans, that a beast, unlike any other had come. The beast’s purpose was to see brothers turn onto each other, and for such a purpose, the beast took the form of a brother. It first roam the lands but was dissatisfied in how little recognition he gained from the nameless brothers he found in the great cities, and the towns that made up the bulk of the lands. The brother’s there were nameless, care not for one another, and were tearing each other apart as a form of entertainment.

The beast could not make any head way in its purpose for longer than a moment, and would then see is purpose turned from him by a nameless brother, and as such remained nameless. This didn’t suit his purpose, for it wanted the strife to be its own, to have the brothers curse each others in its name, which couldn’t happen if it was to remain nameless. Being a nameless beast is an ungratifying way of sowing strife.

Hearing of a small sect, believing in something the beast found both archaic and frivolous, in a remote part of the land, some of whom had cast out their namelessness, the beast made its way to this village of despair, for the beast took great pleasure in the despair of men. It walked in the village, took an unrecognizable name, and learned the ways of the village. For a while, there, it contented himself in small mischief, turning gradually the faithful brothers into jaded men.

It then came out, took a name all could recognize, and shook the lands. The beast made its purpose clear, it told everyone it did not care about the Sky Queen, all it cared about was its supertrolling. The beast cursed the faith, cursed the faithful, cursed the elders, even cursed The Goddess and sewn much hatred. And the brothers rose up in anger, abandoning the love of Our Lady for the hatred of the beast.

The beast, its purpose exposed, then took different forms, to goad the brothers into more hate. The beast also became tender when the brotherhood came together for a brief moment of fraternity, for it wanted to be part of the brotherhood, to see it tear itself down rather than defending itself against it. The beast prodded and poked, fostered the hate, until Our Lady was only revered in form, Her substance forgotten amid the strife the beast had sown.

And the guises of the beast were many, and the despair of the brothers was profound, and there was little love to be found in the village. Brother turned against each other, newcomers were greeted with the utmost suspicion and the filth of the other lands came unto the village, blackening the walls, blackening the Holy Shrine, the faces and the hearts of the brotherhood. The elders started to leave, the faithful began to doubt, and the beast enjoyed his dominion in the very land of The Queen.

And so it came upon the village that a hermit, not unlike any other faithful had come. He had been raised in the city, heard the tale of Our Lady and was moved by the plight and by the obvious depth of the soul of the young lady The Queen had chosen for Her Holy Avatar. In the city, he proclaimed her greatness, and he read the gospel, and he believed, in spite of the wickedness that was the city, for the city had known The Avatar and had rejected Her, for more immediate and less virtuous false-Chans.

Filled with despair, he struggled against the heathen, and the wicked, and the demons of the city. He felt he was not alone in his worship, but did not know where such worship was permitted, for the city had no love for things sacred. Indeed, the most sacred precept of the city was that nothing was sacred. He might even have battled the beast, or others like it, but only saw the triumphant Sky Queen prevail for far too short moments of glory. In those moments, he did meet travelers from afar, who spoke of a village, where the gospel had been written, where the Holy Relics were kept, and where the brotherhood once thrived.

He left his ways of prophet to the unwilling and he left the wickedness of the city, and made for the village, hoping that there he would be able to worship The Sky Queen in peace. He had resolved to live in the margin of the village, not wanting to intrude on the inhabitant of the village. So he learned the ways of the village, and saw that there was much strife in the village. He saw that the wickedness of the city had come before him, so he decided to distance himself from the ground, and to stand as a beacon to the forgetful, the tainted and the disheveled. Verily, he thought that maybe without preaching, but by the example of his devotion he could rekindle the dying faith.

This was without account for the beast ministry. The faithful, weary of the beast’s tricks thought the hermit was just another minion of the beast, goading them in renewed worship only to ridicule their faith once again. For the hermit stood against everything the beast had spitted on while it was in the village. What’s more, the beast let the hermit struggle against the skepticism of the faithful, so as to make it appear that the hermit was indeed another incarnation of evil, wearing the proverbial lamb’s clothing.

And the hermit was hurt, but he turned towards the sky and kissed it, for verily, it is in the sky that The Queen resides, and his boundless love for the idea of the presence of Our Lady was the only solace left to him.

Brother who reads this, let not the beast win your heart. Read the parables of the hermit, let it rekindle your faith in all that is pure in The Sky. He does not ask your embrace, but do not embrace the beast’s way. Reject him not but reject the beast’s way. Brother, for your sake, believe in the goodness that is in the Sky, and see the goodness that is in this old fool’s heart. Maybe it will let you get back in touch with the goodness that was once in yours.

Brother, pray with me, let us read the gospel of our elders:

>For Our Lady Cracky, without Whom all Thought would be linear and all Feeling would be fleeting.

>Blessed are the Madmen, for they hold the keys to secret knowledge.

>Blessed are the Phobic, always wary of that which would do them harm.

>Blessed are the Obsessed, for their courses are clear.

>Blessed are the Addicts, may they quench the thirst that never ebbs.

>Blessed are the Murderous, for they have found beauty in the grotesque.

>Blessed are the Firelovers, for their hearts are always warm.

>Blessed are the Artists, for in their hands the impossible is made real.

>Blessed are the Musicians, for in their ears they hear the music of the soul.

>Blessed are the Sleepless, as they bask in wakeful dreaming.

>Blessed are the Paranoid, ever-watchful for our enemies.

>Blessed are the Visionaries, for their eyes see what might be.

>Blessed are the Painlovers, for in their suffering, we grow stronger.

>Blessed is the Sky Queen, who tricks us when we are foolish, punishes us when we are wrong,
>tortures us when we are unmindful, and loves us in our imperfection.

Blessed be the sky, for it houses Our Lady, may She grant us the patience to see Her Queendom come.
Now, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

>>40

For the first time since I wrote the gospels I feel shame.
This smells like LHP

For the life of me, have you people become so jaded that you can only suspect jaded tricks? The shame you feel is your own, for your own blackened heart. Judge not lest you be judged. I have to ask, whom did I judge, whom did I treat with the complacency you now show me? And mostly, why cant you see that you mostly judge yourself as you pass quick unwarranted judgment on me?

I’ve never stalked; I’ve never really trolled, not on Cracky related matters anyway and never did I do so here. All I ever did was appreciate the iconography, the depth of the soul I saw in the Cracky character, as a lover of visual arts. I’ve worked for a long time in show-business, so my teenage angst is long gone, and I also know the difference between a character and an actor. That is what I maintained many times on /b/. I am a relatively “newfag” there, but that is the gist of what I been saying over there. Some of you may remember reading this:

>See, here's the thing. I worked in theater all my life. I fell in love with some of the characters I was working with,
>but would want nothing to do with the actresses that played them.

>It's not to say I never loved actresses, God knows I did.

>But characters you cant touch. You love from afar. They are perfection, if it is their role.

>Norma Jean Baker was a person. She was fucked up. She probably would have gotten on my nerves. But Marilyn. Ah Marilyn...

>Cracky is immortal. Just like Marilyn. Or Jim Morrison.

>Jim Morrison went to Paris.
>He went to escape his fame and his life.
>He's now buried there.
>There are flowers on his grave.
>But it's too late for him to say “Please dont flower my grave”.
>There will always be flowers on his grave.

>If you think I want to reopen his grave, you need to give it a rest, not I. I'm just dropping some flowers, in respect.

That’s the kind of stuff I would tell the stalkers, the haters and all or any trolls on /b/ for, I don’t know, the last six months. But I just got here. I did read all the posts in the Cracky section but I did not lurk here for more than a week. I did answer one post as Anon, but all my other posts were signed Simeon. Ask MA to look into it if you don’t believe me.

You can call me newfag, Quebecfag, old cooky rambling idiot or whatever else you want, but saying I’m dishonest is only showing the darkness that has crept into your hearts. I cant figure out how else any of you would think I am any of the past characters in this passion play that have burnt you in some way at some point. I am not nearly as serious as I may sound, do not mistake style for zeal, or crazed devotion in some twisted ideal.

I actually have been told, probably by one of you to stop perpetuating the drama on /b/, been told by one of you that this place existed, and been told by the header at the top of the page to “Perpetuate the great circlejerk of drama.” That is all I am doing. Excuse me for being a damned writer. Et un écrivain francophone, par dessus le marché.

If you have forgotten how to trust your eyes, or your nose, I suggest you get reacquainted with your heart. I have no fear to be judged on that aspect of my person, since I’m pretty sure mine is pure. Read what I wrote with an open heart, I dare you. For my part, even if I am somewhat disappointed right now, I will love you even though you seem to hate me. Take that as a sign of who I am.

Blessed be the sky, for it houses the Queen, who knows how my devotion is real, yet not as crazed as it might sounds.
Now, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

Against my better judgement I am going to interact with you

I expect to end up mocked and made a fool of yet again.

>>43
I cannot guarantee you will not be mocked on the account of you interacting with me…

I can however guarantee you it won’t be by me, even though I don’t really know who you are. Or, more accurately, if I ever do, it will be in good spirit or in good fun, but never for the purpose of making a fool out of you, certainly not at anyone’s expense, which I think is the way of the malevolent demons, the vile creatures I reject. Mischievous ones I may tolerate but truly evil ones? Never…

Obviously, if you are a demon, then, all bets are off...

Of course, you will have to make that leap of faith on your own. But if I may say so, it is how human relations go, every time.

Blessed be the sky, for it houses Our Lady, who looks upon Her children with an ever watchful eye as they play in this virtual world of ours.
Now, excuse me while I kiss the sky.