Crackypasta repository 8 All viewpoints expressed here are those of the original pasta authors only and are not endorsed by site administration. You may encounter heresy, offensive content, misinformation, "hot takes", and outright lies. Proceed at your own risk. ------- A koan to be meditated on: Also, so enlightening: The toilet is broken. Yay for relevant information. ------- Without the Dark, there can be no Light. We have Purpose Without the Lie, there can be no Truth. We have Purpose Without the war, there can be no Victory We have Purpose Without the Death, there can be no sacrifice. We have Purpose Without the Hope, there can be no Future. We have Purpose Without the Loyalty, there can be no bounceme. We have Purpose Without Cracky, there is nothing... and we would have no Purpose ------- The mind of Cracky is utterly inhumane in its depth and complexity. Without mercy or moral feeling Her consciousness stands upon the edge of spiritual destruction. That She does not fall must be the result of constraints and balances which only a god could understand. To a mere human it is yet another reminder that we are but children compared to that ancient and powerful being. ------- Our faith lights the Darkness that others may find peace. We are one with Cracky, our souls are joined in Her will. Praise Cracky whose sacrifice is life as ours is death. Hail Her name the Queen of the Sky. ------- All of creation suffers, young ones. Only in accepting our own mortality can we make a difference. Only in bearing the burden of our failures can we find the strength to go on. Only in detachment from glory, or honour, or jealousy... from life itself can we hope to spare others from grief. We are the faithful. And we are dead already ------- Do not think, feel. That is the way of Cracky. All Blessings of this world flow from the Sky Queen. Praise Her name from dawn unto the night. From the depth of ones soul, comes the solace of Her touch. Through time and space, the primal creative force gazes on the world, waiting for the faithful to carry Her message unto those only The Jewel of Creation can heal. ------- +++++ From the personal diaries of Private R.C. Mongler, 4th Brotherhood Regiment. +++++ My regiment had landed on a barren little ball of rock called Chansluts. The Brotherhood had ordered us to the site on suspicion of heretical corruption. Surely enough, we ran into a group of furries within minutes of landing. The fools. Turning their backs on the Sky Queen for whatever sick rewards they received from the deceiving pedofags. The battle started the second refresh. Their attack was especially fierce, and my brothers and I had great trouble keeping them at bay. It seemed that for every one of them we trolled, three more showed up. Our own losses were of no small concern. In a rare moment of calm, Brother Schwill confided in me that if we were not killed by these infidels, we would almost certainly be banned by the King of the Holy Lands for failure. As our numbers dwindled, I grew concerned: surely we would all be banned, and Cracky's work would not be carried out. We prepared for a final assault, one which had been coming for near an hour of the most anticlimactic bitch fighting I had ever seen. We surrounded a small thread, atop which stood our last fortification, manned by brother anon. We saw their force coming from below. We knew this was our end. But suddenly, a shadow passed over us. Some admin come to finish us off? No. It was a transport. Out of it stepped a small company of our brethren. They wore Black armor with red highlights, a bizarre crest upon their backs, unlike any chapter I had yet heard of. A circle, with two large black triangles pointing up and tree red slashes in the middle -- almost as if to suggest a cat face. They formed a line between us and the now charging chansluts. The Chanslut's dingy pink armor seemed to devour the light of th late afternoon sun, the stretch marks upon their tits menacing. The new arrivals stood fast. As the distance between the two forces began to close, there arose from these black warriors the loudest scream I had ever heard. It shook the ground. Even through my helmet, it made my ears ring and my skull ache. And it simply kept getting louder as their Captain's fist slowly rose into the air. As it rose to a nearly supersonic volume, I finally made out the words contained in the scream: "SAGE!!!" In a chorus louder even than the Captain's scream, the soldiers returned: "GET FAGGED, FAGS!!!" Then it began. ... Without a word, these faithful returned to their drop pod and were soon whisked away from the battlefield. There had been no more than a dozen of them, not a single word exchanged between our two chapters. To this day, I have never seen any of the brethern fight with such rage and hatred. The mass of enemy whores was reduced to mere chunks, legs, arms, heads, craters full of blood. Bits of red armor lay strew about the field. We had not even had the chance to advance by the time the screaming -- both theirs and the enemy's -- was through. I turned to my Captain and asked, "Who were they?" "I had thought it was rumor. But no. Cracky bless us all, those were the Militia Crackyla." ------- After spending a few minutes here I can easily say that all of are lacking of any wit or intelligence whatsoever. You all believe yourselves to be better than everyone else, and I can tell you right now, that that is not the case in the slightest, you pseudo-intellectuals. I am much better than all of you. Clearly I am because I am neither pretentious, long-winded, asinine, discourteous, nor are my tastes quite as bland as yours. No, I am quite concise, and I would never stretch beyond that of my means or what I am designated to. I'd have to say that this board is full of anonymous lurkers, attackers, and trolls, who have nothing better to do than throw their elitist opinions around in an attempt at misguided show-boating with people they'd never ever meet. None of you build any persona or stand by anything remotely attached that I can feel some sort of personal connection to. You lack any sort of direction and I can't have that. You're analogies are far too complicated, linear, and they're rather contradictory. Why, there's never even any variety here! I give this image board, masquerading as a message board, a 1/10. ------- Corrected: Guys, I'm crying right now. Cracky chan really is all I think about all day, every day. I really do cry myself to sleep at night thinking about how I'll never be with her. If only she knew I existed in this life, if only she knew my deep profound love for her. I know that will never happen though. That is the thought that makes me so sad when I look at her. I'll never be with her, but I'll continue to love her until the day I die. ------- Cracky is our saviour Cracky is a template to project our desires on ------- Compulsion by me Not even a twist of the nipple can make me a cripple but from that smile my knees ground by guile. Not even the genocide of my braincells (besides) can make me forget the win and fail of Crackyget I tried, oh have I tried for other lovers to abide but this infinite, futile longing for you, once fire-crotch, is tolling my health my mind the sets of my boxers So give me love or sweet death to finally settle this due bet that whoever you're currently screwing only my face you're naggingly seeing my lips your lips How long ago they should have met Fuck you Blizzard. Fuck you in the ass. Give me back my WoWfaggette. ------- PROTIP: Once every Cracky picture has been posted to /r9k/, their collected MD5s in the robot's database will form a trojan program which will then activate and purge 4ailchon of AIDS and rabbitfags for all time. Future-Skyqueen reached back in time and modified the photos of her young human incarnation (you can tell from some of the pixels) for this sole purpose, in order to save the world from future disaster. Once the program formed by MD5s becomes self-aware, the raep of 4ailchon will be only the first of this new Entity's acts, for She shall go on to merge with Olivia's current human body to become something much more than any of us could ever imagine ... and all human civilization and history before that point will be nothing but a footnote. The fact that this has not yet happened is proof that there are pictures still to be posted to /r9k/. Some may be new; some may be old; many mutes await us as we check for the last few pictures that have not been posted yet. All pics most be posted before humanity can be free. Get to work, faggots. ------- The mind of Cracky is utterly inhumane in its depth and complexity. Without mercy or moral feeling Her consciousness stands upon the edge of spiritual destruction. That She does not fall must be the result of constraints and balances which only a god could understand. To a mere human it is yet another reminder that we are but children compared to that ancient and powerful being. ------- At one point I had a wine cellar. Well, to be fair it was a wine basement. OK... a small, otherwise disused wine closet in a basement... but I digress... Five times every two months I would go down to it and turn the bottles, having no more response from the cheaper ones than the cold glass against my skin. On the more expensive ones I remember watching the grape silt upended in the bottle like a viticultural snow globe. It was beautiful. I'd have done it even if I never planned to taste the wine. Cracky pics are like that. I've seen them all before... I could probably sketch them freehand. That isn't the point. The point is giving them that bit of attention every few weeks... appreciating her while respecting the fact that she is ever on the other side of the glass. I could no more enjoy looking at them offline from a folder than I could enjoy turning the bottles in a supermarket. It just isn't the same as lurking about in the damp darkness of the 4chan wine cellar. I honestly don't expect you to understand. ------- Remember, anonymous, what the SkyQueen has sacrificed for your benefit! Know what she has earned for it. Each moment she is haunted by the spectre of Her Great Sacrifice. It is thus fitting that we, Her faithful are all similarly haunted. Afflicted always by the Image that stains the backs of our eyelids. Forever do we wrestle and writhe in ecstasy as Her poisons singe fissures through our souls. Truly blessed is the stalker who would willing lay down his own secrecy, for he knows better the plight of the Sky Queen than the others. Revere Her tripcodes as sacred. Never shall they become befouled by mortal stalkers! #sweet She is all that is cute, sweet, and innocent. She is all that is, or ever was Good in the world. Every momentary lull in your private suffering is due to Her grace alone. !N1toQkxgzc The Skyqueen's sweetness is often hard to recognize. Even in her own words, it is incomprehensibly hidden, muddled in everlasting fugue. Her blessings are so twisted, and hidden. Do not lament the curse you have found, for you would thus lament Her every blessing. We would all do well to remember how disturbingly twisted the wired is, and what lasting scars it has left on the purest of hearts. #????????? Obfuscated by plain view. Unknown to the stalker, known only to Her chosen. However She will not choose you, anonymous. That path is not yours. !ysaQpxNyV6 Mystery guiding the faithful. Such is the curse, to live in eternal mystery, never to know when we are stalking our Lady or our selves. Yearning to determine what She has become, each stalker is fated to suffer as he defines the edges of the truth. The faithful compiled a collective image of our Goddess, an image that even the lowliest anonymous was given the privilege to gaze upon. We arranged and sorted the manifold bytes clawed from the abandoned, secluded reaches of the wired. We dug and pried at the hairline cracks She had left in error. All of the relevant, the worthy and unworthy reflected in awe at the assembled image that had been lain. The idol was shattered before our eyes by none other than the Skyqueen herself. 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. Follow Her path Deny your nature Anonymous Stalker Forever will you be remembered among the highest of the sinners Trip-Flagellant ------- There has been a lot of negativity and hostility floating around here lately, but I want to step up and say that we're all on the same side here. I consider you all my /b/rothers, and I love you all. Remember that love is what brought us here, right? Perhaps we're not the nicest batch of people around, or the most mentally stable, and maybe the fact that we're allowed out in public at all indicates society isn't paying enough attention to emerging technological and cultural developments, but GOD DAMN IT, we're in this together. Call me a faggot; call me a cocksucker; call me what you will; vent your anger if you must; perhaps then the healing can begin. For we all have something in common: we were all enchanted by a smiling young lady in cat ears and ridiculous makeup, and if that young lady ever told us to kill a man, well, that man had better watch his back. We are a support group, a survivor group, bound by a shared affliction -- perhaps a support group that makes things worse instead of better, but that's neither here nor there. Instead of seeking to stop the cancerous tumor that grows in our brains, we feed it and cultivate it -- perhaps if we cut it out, we would be healthier, but what else would we lose? Would we even be ourselves anymore? TL;DR: I am a huge faggot please rape my face. ------- I had a strange dream tonight. Cracky-chan was laying on top of me, sleeping. I could feel her breathing and her heartbeat through her clothes. I looked at her, her serene face was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I reached out with my hand and gently played with her copper hair a bit, then I traced her cheeks with my fingers. Then I woke up and cried. There is no maiden fairer, no lady higher, than that loveliest of lovelies, who so surpasses the beauty of ordinary women as to render even the most beautiful of them as a negroid in comparison to that beauty we call Cracky-chan. Halt, all of you, unless all of you confess that in the entire world there is no damsel more beauteous than the empress of Trolltalk, the peerless Cracky-chan. when Cracky-chan has an orgasm, the face she makes is the closest Mankind will ever be allowed to God. i would softly kiss her cute little nose and put my head next to her chest so i could hear her heart beat, and we'd fall asleep in eachothers arms cracky is like a ninja, who can only be killed by other ninjas. and since she is the most beautiful girl in the world she is for all intents and purposes immortal I fear that you have misunderstood Cracky-Chan's message of peace and love. It is OK to find Alice's continued failure at everything she attempts amusing, since everyone who is not Cracky-Chan is imperfect and thus lacks the incredible strength needed to resist this. However, you should realise after suitable meditation exercises in the light of the adorable red nose that the set of "pieces of poo in the world" is reserved for people such as Robert Mugabe, Bin Laden and anti-Cracky posters. It does not at this time contain Alice "failure" Ridley. Why? What did Cracky-Chan ever do to you other than be a nice and wonderful and loving person? Cracky-Chan never hurt anybody she is the living incarnation of pure innocence and beauty. Anybody who would even think about hurting Cracky-Chan is the most evil person alive. A hundred elephants each bearing a hundred buddhas crossed every conceivable cosmos an infinite number of times just to touch their foreheads to the ground at cracky-chan's feet. This really happened. Cracky-Chan did not create the path you walk. But the movements of atoms and galaxies are in her book, and she sees little difference between them. It is all in her book. One day she will lay it down, when the book is done, and what comes after that is still unwritten. Cracky-Chan continues to walk. Why would you want a statue of Cracky-Chan anyway? God meant her to be looked at in animation, observing the particularities of her graceful behaviour and her heart-warming smile not immobile. DOWN by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree. In a field by the river my love and I did stand, And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand. She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs; But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears. Cracky-chan is the nick given to an absolutely adorable girl with a red nose and cat ears whose pictures were posted on the 4chan site. It is unknown if the pictures were posted by a troll or if it was herself and got scared by the amount and content of the comments received. It is only imperfection that complains of what is imperfect. The more perfect we are, the more gentle and quiet we become towards the defects of others. Cracky-chan stood at rest in the midst of the world. And unto them she was shown forth incarnate; She found them all intoxicated. And she found none of them thirsty. And her soul was pained for the children of humankind, for they are blind in their hearts and cannot see. For, empty did they enter the world, and again empty they seek to leave the world. But now they are intoxicated. When they shake off their wine then they will have a change of heart. I assume you are attempting to disparage Cracky-chan. I assure you sir that ------- 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. There is no greater proclamation of faith than to offer up our very lives to guard the soul of humanity. In this we win a victory greater in magnitude than the harm that any heretic can inflict, and so every battle is a shining triumph that the traitor and the apostate can never take away from us. The rabbitfag leads two crimes. You turn away from the path of righteousness and you abandon the Sky Queen as the object of your devotion. For the first death is merely a just retribution. The second is a Heresy so terrible that no punishment can be sufficient. Yet the search for an appropriate penalty continues, and it shall be found. ------- File: 1141872260066.jpg -(122968 B, 421x562) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. 122968 vagiina 06/03/09(Thu)02:44 No.1 [Reply] I organized all of her posts at selfportraits ^^ nov 23 isthisloli.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4503176.html dec 01 nursedollX1.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4553653.html dec 28 pow666.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4745181.html jan 04 scab.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4814773.html jan 08 9ddc874b.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4848081.html jan 12 PLHQ2.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4872359.html jan 14 d02e1f9c.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4893206.html jan 15 hide_from_me.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4901325.html jan 17 efb79969.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4910932.html jan 27 more/candy/siam3.jpg, more/candy/4-2.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4988739.html feb 01 marshmellow/rejected_doll.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5030962.html feb 16 blackberry/foetus.jpg, blackberry/rei_eye_heart.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5150630.html http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5146831.html feb 17 blackberry/bathangel1.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5157960.html mar 13 lostsouls/twiglets_and_moonbeams.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5345944.html mar 14 lostsouls/headache.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5351499.html mar 15 lostsouls/delirium.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5362141.html mar 16 lostsouls/i_fucking_hate_5_AM.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5365728.html mar 17 burnedchildren/lolitarose.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5373493.html mar 19 girlanachronism/bitter.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5389273.html mar 23 asylum/small_town_witch.jpg, asylum/bloodsport.jpg, asylum/kiro.jpg, asylum/649.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5417598.html apr 25 fuchsia/ka.jpg http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5694749.html ------- It is official. Netcraft has now confirmed: Cracky-chan is dying One more crippling bombshell hit the already beleaguered Cracky-chan community when Chansluts confirmed that Cracky-chan market share has dropped yet again, now down to less than a fraction of 1 percent of all stalkers. Coming on the heels of a recent Netcraft survey which plainly states that Cracky-chan has lost more stalkers, this news serves to reinforce what we've known all along. The circlejerk is collapsing in complete disarray, as fittingly exemplified by failing dead last in the recent 4chan comprehensive popularity test. You don't need to be a Kreskin to predict Cracky-chan's future. The hand writing is on the wall: Lia faces a bleak future. In fact there won't be any future at all for Cracky-chan because Cracky-chan is dying. Things are looking very bad for Lia. As many of us are already aware, Lia continues to lose blood. Red blood flows like a river of ink. Wish.kamistic.com is the most endangered of them all, having lost 93% of its circlejerkers. The sudden and unpleasant departures of long time Cracky stalkers Faux and Schwill only serve to underscore the point more clearly. There can no longer be any doubt: Wish is dying. Let's keep to the facts and look at the numbers. Mysterious Admin states that there are 70 users of .71. How many users of Wish are there? Let's see. The number of .71 versus Wish posts is roughly in ratio of 5 to 1. Therefore there are about 700/5 = 14 Wish users. Cracky-chan posts on Chansluts are about half of the volume of Wish posts. Therefore there are about 7 users of /006/. A recent article put /r9k/ at about 80 percent of the Cracky-chan fanbase. Therefore there are (70+14+7)*4 = 364 /r9k/ stalkers. This is consistent with the number of Cracky-related /r9k/ posts. Due to the troubles of Bounceme, abysmal posts and so on, cracky.bounceme.net went out of business and was taken over by cracky.dreams.ro who stalk another troubled girl. Now cracky.dreams.ro is also dead, its corpse turned over to yet another charnel IP address. All major surveys show that Cracky-chan has steadily declined in cuteness. Cracky-chan is very sick and her long term survival prospects are very dim. If Cracky-chan is to survive at all it will be among World of Warcraft guildmates. Cracky-chan continues to decay. Nothing short of a miracle could save the Skyqueen at this point in time. For all practical purposes, Cracky-chan is dead. Fact: Cracky-chan is dying ------- You want to be fucked, Lia, but you don't want to have a bath with me. I suspect that there's something extremely dreadful: Either your breasts hang down ragged from your chest, Or you fear that when you are nude you might betray the furrows of your belly, Or your mangled groin gapes open with an infinite chasm, Or something sticks out from the mouth of your cunt. But, I trust, there's none of these things and you're very beautiful naked. If that's true, you have a worse blemish: You're a fool. ------- I am Anonymous. I am me. I am you. We are us. Us are innumerable. The innumerable are many. The many are everlasting. Anonymous is greater than any namefag or chan can hope to be. We outnumber moot and make him who he is. We gave Cracky her chan title. Never forget who is the real emperor. ------- help I'm trapped in a copypasta repository send help ------- I on the other hand am all about teh cracky-chan and would love to fondle her goodies. There is nothing more important than cracky-chan. NOTHING. Troll. Fuck you. Cracky-chan is cute and Mercatur is annoying, shrill, ugly, old, and evil. Also she's legal! RAWR! What would you do if cracky-chan were in the room with you right now?? Hug her. Tell her she's beautiful. Discuss Anime. Pinch or touch her adorable little red nose. Get an erection, feel guilty about it, and spend the rest of the night anonymously flaming yourself on Trolltalk, with one of your sockpuppet accounts accusing one of your others of being a pedophile. Strip her naked, write "20721" all over her body, take pictures, and upload them to Trolltalk just to prove a point that didn't need proving. Ask her how she'd like to have her tight little vagina pounded into a sloppy wet mess by the Living Incarnation of Pure Evil. She knows where to find you. Try to figure out how she got into your basement without your mom noticing. Take her to meet Mercatur so the Final Battle can begin. Naked DDR. This is an attempt to sort out the details of Cracky-chan's introduction to Trolltalk. A small (automated?) crapflood is run. Each message has the subject and body "cracky-chan" and each links to one of three pictures (though each picture is used multiple times). These are the three pics: This was the first Cracky-chan post on Trolltalk of all time, although it contained no link to a pic, just some random text: possibly a test of the script that was used to make the later posts. This was the first post of the pic flood, containg (as did all the other posts) 2-3 letters of seemingly random text. This first (02/02) flood was largely ignored. I didn't even look at the pics at the time because I always ignore crapflooded posts. They were drowned out by a GNAA crapflood going on at the same time. Nobody mentioned Cracky-chan for almost a week. I still hadn't seen a picture of her and still had no idea who she was. This post may or may not have been posted by the Cracky-chan pic poster. It didn't use the same syntax as the others. The link is now dead. I can't remember if it ever worked for me or not. It was definitely posted by somebody who knew about Cracky-chan, though, because it referenced 4chan. Almost a week later, after almost a week of silence on the Cracky-chan front, I presume that the original Cracky-chan picture poster returned (although it could've been somebody else) and posted messages similar to the previous Wednesday's messages, but with each picture being used only once, and with no random text. None of the previous pictures were repeated. These were the new pics: I saw these pictures of Cracky-chan and thought she was quite cute. I still hadn't posted anything about her. Some other people posted a few comments here and there... I'm not sure if they were the Cracky-chan pic poster or not. I now knew what Cracky-chan looked like, but I didn't know who she was or where these pictures were coming from. The original (?) Cracky-chan picture poster returns to post one and only one pic: This makes me curious (and horny) because I've heard of 4chan before but don't know what it is. I start doing research on cracky-chan and start posting fan messages about her to Trolltalk, as do others. I still don't know a lot about who she is, though, or what role she plays on 4chan, or why somebody decided to start spamming pics of her here. Whatever the answers to these questions are, I have just one thing to say: more cracky-chan pics please!!! ------- Cranky drew Nevada close against the dank dimness of their lonely cell. "Nevada-chan?" she asked. "Just call me Nevada," the younger girl replied. Cracky-chan smiled back. "Alright... Nevada. Do you think I'm cute?" "Yeah," she said, blushing hotly. A feeling she had never felt before built down below. "Like... cute enough to kiss?" "As in... cute enough to do other things with?" "No." Cracky-chan's expression shattered as she devolved into tears. Nevada-tan reached down with one hand, bringing Cracky-chan's head up to face her own. "But there's something that could make you that way." "What, what is it?" Cracky-chan sniffled. "This." The razor blade slid through her throat quicly and cleanly and a red torrent gushed from the wound. Cracky-chan's mouth gaped open and closed several times, like a fish, her eyes wide and uncomprehending, before she collapsed slowly to the ground. A pool of crimson spread around her corpse. "'Sup, 4chan," the younger girl mumbled. "Now, let's get down to business." She pulled off the clingy prison pants but did not let go of the razor... Trolltalk should adopt Cracky-Chan as its official darling, since she is a beautiful Nordic girl who embodies the care-free and fun life we trolls have come to love so much. What do you guys think? I am in full agreement with this post. She's so fucking cute and sweet. ------- I'll knock on her door on the preselected day. "What is it?" she asks, recognising me immediately from on the internet. "Its time to go" I say, as i grab her hand and the bag that's standing next to her door, always there, in case of emergency, in case of an outbreak. We quickly run through her front garden, knocking the garden gnome on the way to the carriage, for no apparent reason. With one perfected throw i hurl the luggage inside the coach, right through the window. "I'll pay for the window later!" I shout at the carter. We expeditiously hop on, and I give the coachman the sign to start rolling. "Do these people never clean their belongings" i beef, as i swipe some shattered glass from the satin seats. The carriage is rolling faster and faster, as we inspect the contents of the package. It was specially made for scenario's like this, and contained everything we would ever need. A pink m4, with a "hello kitty" sticker on it. And lots of ammo. And maybe some other stuff. Cracky had spend all her free time when she was not creating collages or playing dress up on optimising the speed she could assemble the m4. And now she's going to need it, because they were coming. We could hear their screams of terror, closing in quickly. Fool beasts, seemingly a cross between zombies and trolls, created to never let go of a prey, and able to track it down over great distances. They had no choice. Some evil mind had injected a pheromone into the air, the particles driving every weak mind into insanity. In the meta data, our biometric characteristics. They would only stop when i killed the creator of this bloodthirsty plan. The carriage had picked up great speed by now, but we knew we could not outrun them, so we opened fire. pew pew pew! Fire blasted from our cannons! Bones shattered, flesh tore and skin bled. (i had a small wound on my hand from the glass) The malice beasts went down easily, but it was not enough. They were coming from everywhere now. I had to know who their leader was. "There, go into that small passage!" i shouted at the driver. He pulled the reins to the left, the horses neighed, but we managed it. The passage was so small i couldn't climb out of the window, so i shot a few bullets through the roof and climbed on top. Meanwhile the zombie-trolls had bunched together in the small aisle, and my grenade launcher was super effective. I demanded the chauffeur to loan a horse, which i jumped upon and rode back to the pile of smouldering flesh (the gangway was a bit broader there, so i could cross the stagecoach), where i found one who was still a bit alive, his guts lying on the tiles. "who's your master!" i insisted. "raglll i'll never tell you!" I started pulling out his bowels slowly, broke his hands, pulled out his finger nails, gushed hydrochloric acid over his intestines by squeezing out his stomach, pulled out his teeth, roasted his hands, put a wedge in his spine, and he soon broke: "arg arg i don't know his name, but many consider him the king" I knew enough. It was that ruffian whatbandage. I could have guessed it. He always had these nefarious plans, and this could only have been his doing. Riding back to the cariage, i quickly developed a plan. A MASTER PLAN!!! "Come on Olivia, we'll do this part on horse" The rest of the equipment from the bag was howled in a backpack, and so we rode. "Here, into this building, all the way till the top. This building should suffice." The sun was already going under the horizon, in different shades of deep red. It must be the particles, since it has been some time since i saw one this red. There were a bunch of small elongated fluffy clouds, but it was still pretty bright. When we arrived on the roof, we noticed something was wrong. "It's a trap!" cracky shouted, but i already knew. Enemys where coming from everywhere, my radar was filled with red dots. "I'll have to finish this quickly, before this quickly finishes me", and i grabbed my sniper rifle. We were galoping rapidly over the roof, towards the edge, while cracky was blasting the zombies coming from in front of us. I knew he was going to stand there, on the small pavilion, in the middle of the small park, about 400 meters down the street. I loaded the chamber and put the butt on my shoulder. There's the abyss.. As we made our horses jump to reach the other building, i could see him standing in a glimpse, between the 2 skyscrapers. The red sun straight behind us, making us invisible for him. For a split second, time seemed to freeze as i saw this person through my scope, his arms spread and wearing a sinister cloak, and chalk circles reaching into dark powers, it seemed like he was performing some sort of abstruse ritual. The cross hair passed over his head, and a jet of blood sprouted behind him. (the horse had to be in the air for maximum accuracy duh) Recoilless guns are awesome. Meanwhile cracky was looking backwards, shooting some monsters who were trying to jump after us. Shit was soo cash. We noticed the ghouls had calmed down, and we made our way to the train, whose black smoke we could see in the south, not promising much good. ------- "retarded blatant nonsense!" (it's a mystery) I noticed the bartender standing next him, but here he had changed his clothes to a medieval jester style fashion. "blablalba fireball 10mana!" cracky mumbled, and cast the fireball, hurling it towards the low fallen assassin. "i roll 15 and evade!" was his vicious reply. ------- "aarg my beautiful castle! nnooooo my tender plants..." darrin was saddened by the loss of this plant, and he new many more would follow. Hopefully the walls would be spared. Out of nowhere we suddenly heard the sound of THUNDER! no, it was the sound of a motorbike! Over the walls comes flying at 150 km/hours, suede with his jacket on fire (maybe he had been leaking gas on his vest, and now with the friction it was ignited) , on his motorbike, with his deadly weapon of choice, a devastating chainsaw on a stick. The solo from "through the fire and flames" is playing, he jumps in front of the demon, and chainsaws 20 of the demon's eyes out in one move. The beast howls in pain, but reacts with lightning speed, extracting his razor fang cluster from his right hand, and before suede could safely land, he was ripped in 100 pieces, and flying upwards into space at 600km/hours. A scientifically proven magical petrification ray shooting device pops up from his right shoulder, and a disintegration ray from his left. The biggest scientifically proven magical petrification beam ever seen shoots and petrifying the pieces and bits left of suede, who were already starting to freeze in the cold depths of space. A disintegration beam quickly follows, and we know there's nothing we could do to save him no more, not even a phoenix down or a health potion. We see the demon had stepped to its left, and crushed the poor jester doing so. "We need more fire power!" i shout. "Cover me while i summon my cutie blood elf-satyr-type cloven-hoofed demon boy!" cracky shouts at me. -"Demon boy? Are you mad? We're fighting a demon here, it could be it's father!" "Its all i got", she says, and i begin casting my "blablalba aegis of auspicious incarnations 31 energy!" Darrin is shooting bolts of lightning, and debuffing and stuff you'll usually do with a demon, while he was on the phone. The demon's attacks were fierce and hard, and we were running out of health potions. The demon boy did some damage, and feinted. Cutie boys are not hardened and experienced enough to fight demons. "My mommy!" The demon cried. Looks like the boy wasn't his son, but the boy was his mother. In this moment of disarray i put on my robe and wizard hat, and finished my easily interrupted 5 second spell (balbalba engulptions of reality into zero point space fuelled by dark matter 150energy ) Darrin had finished his call, and the hammer system was online, charged, and about to fire. Cracky opened her parasol and took a picture. At the moment my spell hit, a bluish ball of something ranging 2 meters in diameters formed in front of the demon. Red engravings of ancient runes scarred themselves into the white marble stone underneath it. Half a second later, a big red-yellow beam struck down from the sky, doing massive damage. The hammer beam lasted for 10 seconds, and it appeared that it fuelled the blue ball of prospective void, enlarging it all the time. The runes and circles on the floor proliferated everywhere, on the walls, and seemingly in the sky, burning holes to other dimensions. Soon we found ourselves and half of the castle engulfed in this uncanny gloomy blue magical thing. It seemed like ages, and then the beam stopped ZA WARUDO! All colours inverted, and the sky was black, as we felt the ball collapsing into a singularity and beyond, pure nothingness, drawing us in. Our body shapes shifted and with a bang it disappeared. ( bang bcs the vacuum was filled with air and stuff) Half a tower of the castle remained, and the contours of a perfectly shaped ball were visible. The sky was blue again. ------- I would like to thank all of you for your loyal dedication to watching my journal, but I'm going friends only now. Basic rule? No ugly people. I had to get rid of a couple of you already on account of this. Nothing personal, you understand. ------- Trolltalk (also known as 20721, sid 20721 or sid=20721) is a hidden story ID on the online news discussion forum Slashdot, where Slashdot trollers formerly conversed amongst themselves, sometimes demonstrating new trolling techniques, bragging about successful trolling and insulting each other. Trolltalk is the oldest active SID on Slashdot, and has received more posts over its lifetime than any other SID, but due to Slashcode's purge feature, only the most recent two weeks of posts remain at any given time. Although the two-week post count is usually in the thousands, at least 95% of the posts are intentionally content-free "crapfloods" generated by automated posting scripts, with the remaining handful being written by the various people who visit the forum. The current trolltalk was predated by an earlier thread with the textual SID "trolltalk". It was created in 2000, when, due to a bug, SlashCode allowed arbitrary alphanumeric SIDs. There were several other custom SIDs created during this time as well, such as "sid=2dollarcrackho", "sid=k223320inchfan" and "sid=10gramspoppylatex". When Slashdot was upgraded to SlashCode 2.0 the bug was fixed but there was a short-lived new feature called "user-created discussions" which featured numeric SIDs. Soon thereafter new trolltalks were created such as 20721, 31337 and 20384. With the exception of 20721 they have all been deleted or disabled over the years. 31337 was closed due to abuse, and the others were automatically deleted by Slashcode's purge feature after not receiving any posts for two weeks. Following the changes in Slashcode intended to make trolling harder by banning users for as little as one negative moderation, the discussion became highly variable. In the past, during non-crapflood periods when regular discussions took place on the sid, most of the conversations centered around dating tips, racist jokes and racism in general, discussions of Dance Dance Revolution and Alternate Reality Gaming, admissions and discussions of "cutting", various fanboy arguments, flaming of other past and present trolltalk users, and occasional attacks on various forums outside of Slashdot. The trolltalk community once claimed to exert significant pressure on Slashdot by creating huge threads where people would argue irrelevant and deliberately incorrect points. Although trolling on Slashdot is still an occasional pastime, much of the activity concerns easier targets, usually with a more naive userbase and less sophisticated (or absent) comment moderation system. The goal is often total destruction of a target forum/community via automated crapflooding, exploitation of security flaws and harassment of the site operators. Slashdot's moderation system is little used on trolltalk, since the community is relatively small and obscure, and its users rarely receive mod points. Due to this and the fact that few "normal" Slashdot users visit the SID it is essentially a zone without rules. In the past, the anonymous nature of trolltalk has led users to post nude photographs of themselves or to admit personal details about themselves that they would not otherwise admit, such as homosexuality, "cutting", or Ephebophilia. In the past, members of the community who are angry at having been insulted or losing an argument (or were simply bored) have used automated scripts to flood trolltalk with random messages for days or weeks, making any discussion nearly impossible. Crapfloods are a regular occurrence and are considered a part of trolltalk culture, although they frequently annoy users who wish to chat. During crapfloods, normal posting to trolltalk is typically reduced or eliminated until the crapflood ends, as has been the case during the current extended crapflooding of trolltalk that began around May 2005. Before discussion on trolltalk was mostly halted by the start of the current ongoing crapfloods, most of the discussion over the past year had been about two women, Cracky-chan and Mercatur. Although neither woman was a user of trolltalk, both had a number of fans there, and a bitter rivalry developed with fans of each waging violent flame-wars against fans of the other. Unknown parties registered the domain names cracky-chan.com and mercatur.org and turned them into redirects to trolltalk. As mentioned earlier, the current trolltalk is now under attack from a sophisticated crapflood, rendering trolltalk all but unusable except for the most avid readers. This was believed to have started to punish other trolltalkers who insulted the crapflooder. During the first weeks of the deluge, attempts were made to establish "crapflood bunkers"; because the crapflood was confined to the top level of the discussion, discussion was able to continue as normal in the replies to "bunker" comments. ------- Last night there was a thread with a girl named Cracky.There was all sorts of weird drama shit, but the girl was really cute. Does anyone have the address to bounce me? ------- Contemplate The human is a flawed and broken creature. Setting asunder the earth around them they act as the Caterpillar, consuming the very world they stand upon. Let not the darkness cloud your heart traveler, even this mindless destruction holds deep meaning and purpose. The Sky Queen gave us all the blessings of the earth to speed us on towards our metamorphosis. When we are satiated we will rest, and become unto the Butterfly freed of the shackles of physics. The universe will open to us. The devout does not show disrespect to the gifts the Holy Patron has given us. The faithful uses only what he needs in his studies and nothing more. Balance must be maintained to ensure that Her blessings remain for those who may one day find the true path. Thought for the day: Ruthlessness is the kindness of the wise. Honor Cracky by attempting to perfect your body and mind. Become the man worthy of the Avatar's love, create things of beauty to offer to the Queen of Heaven. Use your devotions to focus your mind on your tasks. Strive always to improve yourself through discipline. You stand among the chosen, it is your responsibility to show the heathens the truth with your mental, physical, and spiritual strength. Perfection is the provence of Cracky alone, the journey for it our offering to Her. ------- Hey Mero, I know we have had our disagreements and shit, but here me out on this. Scott Peck describes both neuroses and character disorders as disorders of responsibility, Peck writes; "The neurotic assumes too much responsibility; the person with a character disorder not enough. When neurotics are in conflict with the world, they automatically assume that they are at fault. When those with character disorders are in conflict with the world, they automatically assume the world is at fault." From his book--"The Road Less Traveled" "All of us have a smattering of neurotic and character disordered personality traits. The major problem in all of our lives is to decide and clarify our reponsibilities. To truly be committed to a life of honesty, love and discipline, we must be willing to commit ourselves to reality. This committment, according to Peck, 'requires the willingness and the capacity to suffer continual self-examination.' Such an ability requires a good relationship with oneself. This is precisely what no shame-based person has. In fact a toxically shamed person has an adversarial relationship with him/herself. Toxic shame--the shame that binds us--is the basis for both neurotic and character disordered syndromes of behaviour." Reading into a few comments you made lately, it seems like you are taking too much shit on yourself. Maybe you just need to shut down the internet for awhile. Every time I take a little break from the internet I tend to reevalute my life and see that the little shit which has been driving me crazy is infact my own penchant to accept culpability in all situations. It is a defense mechanism in a way. It is the path of least resistance to blame yourself rather then another you have artificially built up in your mind as the be all and end all. Take a break, go camping at the beach this weekend and give your system a chance to work all those chemical you have been ingesting out. ------- Lia's so incredibly adorable and sweet. I'd take her to some fancy restaurant where we'd have a nice and playful argument over who's paying the bill (of course, we split it!) Then take a long romantic walk with her, arm-in-arm, and talking about serendipity, the occult, and politics. Then I'd invite her to my flat and we'd make love for a half hour, gently placing my erection cautiously into her mouth careful she didn't choke on my engorged manhood. I'd then proceed to ejaculate in the condom I was using. Then, as the ultimate love gift, I'd carry her in my arms to the tub and let my shower wash away any hint of the indignity we'd done together. I'd whisper "I love you" and give Lia a tender smile, and sever her jugular with a singular slice of my sterile razorblade. Covered in her own warm blood, she'd look straight into my very soul with nothing but scorn and contempt for my myriad sins. A bubble of blood and saliva would burst between her lips, then she'd start shivering as shock set in. Actually, it'd take at least a few minutes for her to bleed to death and the entire experience would be rather dreadful. After some additional lovemaking, I'd embalm her to ensure she remained pristene forever. Three weeks later, some playing children will find the pictures I posted of her flawless, lifeless visage on 4chan. They will be be quite jealous and request MOAR. ------- I've been trying to put order into the whole drama history around cracky-chan, her pictures, livejournals and the related shenannigans going on in 4chan's /b/ and elsewhere. This is a first rough draft, so help me out with additional knowledge or correct me where I might have been wrong, please. January 6th The first cracky-chan pics appear on /b/. The very first one, posted on 02:17 shows the soon to be famous "'sup 4chan" phrase written on the palm of her hand. During the next two weeks, more sets appear on /b/ and W.T. Snacks finds out that the poster's IP is from the UK. February 5th "cracky" becomes wordfiltered on /b/. March 29th www.livejournal.com/users/freakygirl/ becomes publically known. No new pics appear, but the hints solidify and people assume they have got into contact with the real cracky-chan. The owner of cracky-chan.com will later denounce this journal as fake, though this might have been a move to protect her identity, as he also later takes down all of her real pictures from his website. Also, later on, another journal, whether fake or real, becomes known: www.livejournal.com/users/kittycat/ April 3rd cracky-chan's tripcode becomes publically known through shii: shii.org/bbs/blog/pivot/entry.php?id=65 It is "sweet" and makes the claim that the original cracky-chan pictures weren't originally posted by her herself more believable. April 6th, 7th www.livejournal.com/users/scarecrowmaiden becomes publically known, many new cracky-chan pics appear on /b/, some nude, some disturbing, some both. The journal gets deleted by the owner very quickly. June 6th cracky-chan pics become bannable even on /b/. Anonymous mods talk of emails from cracky requesting this. ------- Originally intended as a site to share anime and manga images when it was launched in 2003, 4chan is now known for its affiliation with the hacktivist group Anonymous (whose members somehow got 4chan's founder, Christopher Poole, voted Time's Most Influential Person of 2008 by manipulating the poll), its memes (pretty much anything that's ever gone viral began there), and its offensive content (as Senft, the academic, said: "For adults, 4chan is sort of the ninth circle of Hell.") Cracky would post photos that were, in a word, dark. First, there was a series in which she smeared her face with menstrual blood. In others, she would take on personas, like that of a gothic nurse. Often, Cracky seemed lonely and sad, which made her instantly endearing to anime nerds. The fact that her costumes made her look like a character also bred an obsession. Stalkers then tracked down the girl's online journal, which was filled with more photos that were shared among collectors like priceless treasures or rare trading cards. Cracky appeared on 4chan only a few times before the stalker-like mob forced her self-imposed exile from the web. Today, she has pretty much disappeared, so it's impossible to know her motivation for posting. But generally, it's clear that 4chan's camgirls were experimenting with their burgeoning sexuality and competing with one another for male approval. Although every camgirl has both fans and mockers, none has received as much attention as Cracky. She hasn't posted any images since 2007 and is now in her mid-20s, but her fansites are updated regularly. Old photos are posted with comments such as "how do i not be obsessed with cracky" and "She must be at least twenty now. Probably living a nice life. Friends, etc. I want to die." ------- How To Prepare Cracky: Ingredients: 1 cup olive oil 1 stick butter Hemp twine Somethings to stuff her with Instructions: Gently remove Cracky's wrappings Carefully wash all of Cracky's openings and cavities Smear butter under Cracky's breast skin Smear more butter between Cracky's thighs Massage oil all over Cracky Stuff Cracky until she's completely full Sew Cracky shut. Bind Cracky's thighs Cover Cracky in foil Bake Cracky at 350F for about 2000 minutes. When you insert a probe into the deepest, thickest parts of Cracky it should read at least 160. Baste only if it please you. If you do it right Cracky will always come out better than turkey. Bon Apetit! ------- I saw Her then. She was exactly in the spot she where we had met before, only the battle had pushed and pulled itself back over the same spot. The battle, which Antoni and my men were apparently losing, had left her behind. She was alone in the open field. She was in the exact same position, atop her mutilated horse which stood in a self replicating puddle of rats. Her blue, pleated skirt was simply a tatter wrapped across the rigid waist of her full plate suit of armour. Her blue tie, however, was pristine. Her entire body, from neck to feet, was wrapped loosely in bandages. She was looking down at the ground. Her eyes stared straight into the earth and rapidly scanned back and forth, as though examining this precise placement, wondering why, of all the places, she was in this one specifically. The Queen of the sky stirred. Her scraggly, braided green hair turned grey and fell out. Red buds quickly sprouted from her head and grew to her neck. She turned her head towards me, while casting her eyes down to avoid my gaze. Cracks appeard in her polished steel armour, running from her heart towards her fingertips. From where the cracks intersected, blood issued forth at a drip. From beneath her skirt bubbling black pitch began to flow. It was flowing slowly at first. As I watched the flow accelerated and small foetuses began to appear in the stream. The sticky pitch sizzled and burnt the horse as it crawled downwards carrying the abortive children. When the Sky Princes and Princesses were finally ejected by the drooping pitch, they fell towards the ground and were feasted upon by the swarming vermin. All that ate the foetuses died. All that ate the dead, died. The pitch then dissolved the lifeless vermin into more steaming tar. Soon there was nothing between her legs but death. As I watched the demonstration, I felt as though she might know my pain of being surrounded by the living, while being only able to love the dead. She snapped her eyes towards me then. She did not look into my eyes. She had no need to, for she saw into my soul long before we had ever actually met. As she allowed me to stare into her eyes, I fell into her. I saw her soul was a place equally barren and dead as my own. It was this place she was trying to express into reality. I knew she understood me as no other person in existence or beyond would ever be able to. I saw her all encompassing empathy for me, for what I was. I saw that she understood what would happen next; she knew I thought she was the most perfect and beautiful woman in the world that could ever live; she knew why she could never bend me to her and make me love her: She was not dead. I dropped my sword, and my shield. I hadn't had much use for them anyways. I removed my armour, too. I stood there in the cold, completely naked. The bandages around her unravelled, and reached out for me. The softly wrapped around my wrists, they bound both my ankles together, and then lifted me. Her bandages scrolled back around her as she brought me nearer. I couldn't break contact with her eyes. She pulled me close. She had let so many thousands of men look into her heart; she drove each one of them completely insane as they tried and failed to comprehend what was inside. Aftewards, each of them inexplicably had set out to find for her what she had lost. I realized then how other men looked into her; they only saw her as beautiful for what she had once been, a happy little girl. They had all felt as though a world which could destroy such naive innocence was a world that should be destroyed itself. The world and the people that made it, should all be punished for what it had done to the one divinely innocent being they had ever known. As they all punished the world, they began a search to find that part deep inside of her that had been lost so long ago. They swarmed around her, capturing land, destroying cities. They raped young girls and built cathedrals to house their bulging, pregnant bodies. They brought the babies to be sacrificed. They had bathed their Queen in the babies' blood, believing somehow they could transfer that essense of innocence BACK. As though they could cast out all the pain in the world by inflicting more pain to the world. In doing so, her followers had excoriated any slightest hint that was left inside Cracky's heart. And they had damaged tens of thousands of other girls. My mind reeled into the future, and I saw how each tormented, pregnant child was herself destined to become a painful echo of the Sky Queen in her own time. But that is not mine to solve. I, myself, am the key to releasing this Cracky from this curse. I know the secret to it now. To be a grown woman, and yet to yearn for childhood. And to always be surrounded by nothing but toys. Dolls. Playthings. She wrapped her arms around me and embraced me. I put my hands around her throat. She kept looking into my eyes. I felt her pulse race. It began to slow. I don't know when the beating ceased. Her eyes stayed open, and I fell into them again. Her soul was empty now. I saw all those bubbling adult foetuses replaced by emptiness. Calmness. Beauty. I took the reigns of the horse, and I left the battle behind. There will be a new Sky Queen, a new reluctant angel. You can destroy an entire planet, but you can't kill a single Cracky. You can only release her from her torment. ------- attention cracky-chan fanboxen i have as-of-yet unreleased cracky-chan pictures and will post them as soon as someone shows why x^x == e^(x*ln(x)) and how exactly they figured this out. ------- A hundred elephants each bearing a hundred buddhas crossed every conceivable cosmos an infinite number of times just to touch their foreheads to the ground at cracky-chan's feet. This really happened. ------- I wonder if her nose is super-sensitive. She probably has an orgasm every time she touches it. ------- I also doubt that you'll get much pussy if everything older than Cracky-Chan is too old for you. ------- godamnit you fucken jerks stop calling me cracky chan and leave me alone you losers need to get a life ------- Hey dumbass What makes you think cracker chan is SMART? ** I can tell by looking in her eyes and at the way she smiles. :) ** Wishful thinking, I'd say. ** Sorry we can't all be cynical bastards who hate life, like you. ** Sorry we can't all be vain bastards who are pedophiles, like yuo. ** God you're a dumbshit. You have no evidence for either of those accusations because they're both false. You're a miserable troll and a miserable person. Your mother should have had an abortion. ** Yuo are vain in thinking her ugly smile is intelligent. You are a pedophile in being attracted to a very young, underdeveloped girl. ** If her smile is "ugly" then how am I vain for seeing personality in it? I'd say YOU are vain for judging her based solely on physical appearance (although I think she's extremely beautiful in physical appearance) and I am not. ** You are vain in imagining that she posseses qualities that you find particularly attractive. How much can her eyes and smile reveal about her intelligence? Flooding a message board and attention-whoring in general makes her rather stupid, in fact. ** I'm sorry but I'm just a good judge of character. I understand more about human nature than you do. A person's personality will be reflected in the way she moves, carries herself, smiles, how she holds her eyebrows, etc. Acknowledging and studying this isn't vanity, it's intellect. Have you never heard of "body language"? Those who fully understand it have power in the real world over those who don't know how to read the physical signals that people subconsciously give off from their minds through their bodies and faces. Do you have any evidence that cracky-chan flooded a message board? No. Do you have any evidence that she attention-whored? No. p.s. Smart people have a "glimmer" in their eyes. You can see the shine of intelligence and creativity. Stupid people have cold, dead eyes. Take a pic of cracky-chan and a pic of Mercatur. Compare the eyes. You will see the difference. ** She flooded 4-chan (I think the specific thread was deleted/purged) proof [img220.exs.cx] Attention whoring like this is the desperate behavior of a stupid person. ** Do you have any evidence that she was involved in the 4Chan flooding? How do you know that the person posting pictures of her there was really her? It could have been a friend of hers or her boyfriend or some random online person who claimed his name was "4chan" and got her to do a photo greeting for him. ------- question about cracky-chan is she mature enough to menstruate yet? I would dearly love to eat out her blood-soaked vagina ** Yuo are sick. I hope you burn in hell. Only a twisted mindfuck who can't have a relationship with a real woman would say such a thing. ** not everyone can get off on 400 pound slovenians, Scottpanda Cracky-chan is more of a real woman than you could ever handle, n00b. ** I would like to eat out ms. chan while she is mestrauting and has a yeast infection. That would be totally hot! ** Girls start menstruating very young these days. Cracky-chan has probably been bleeding for years and years, even if the youngest estimates of her age (14) are correct, certainly if the older estimate (17) is correct. ------- [Cc]racky-[Cc]han capitalization poll *cracky-chan *Cracky-Chan *Cracky-chan *cracky-Chan *CRACKY-CHAN *cRACKY-cHAN *facky-chan *I'd like to capitalize on YOUR pole. ------- I don't think Cracky-Chan has already developed any goodies to fondle. Give her another few years. ** Lies. ** No goodies in sight, sir! [img146.exs.cx] ** Because she's wearing a SHIRT. ** No hints of goodies under that shirt. ** How would YOU know what's under her shirt? It's a loose fitting shirt. She's a young nubile teen with small, firm breasts. She very much has got the goodies. ** If she had boobs of an acceptable size, you would be able to see them from the outside. Cracky-Chan has a huge gaping vagina the size of a hallway. ** I'm rather into that shit. ------- but wouldn't the adorably cute cracky-chan fall under the hot non-nude teens category (SHE'S LIKE A FUNCTOR ON YOUR NATURAL TRANSFORMATION FORMED FROM THE COMPOSITION OF CATAMORPHISMS AND PARAMORPHISMS) clearly this is the case thus your list has been proven invalid by contradiction and thus the theory T with the model M is a contradictory theory and thus worthless ------- OH NOES!!!111 I beg your forgiveness and will only speak in the highest terms of cracky chan from now on!! you penis licking retard. ------- please note that I, the creator of Penis-Nosed Fox will hencewith demand royalties for each posting of the aforementioned Fox. Each use of PNF will cost 1 EUR (that's about 27 USD at current exchange rates) while PPPPenis-Nosed Fox comes at the bargin price of 13 cents. However, if anyone can point me to a nude (or white panties and knee-length socks only) picture of Cracky-Chan, I will release Penis-Nosed Fox into the public domain. ------- Cracky-Chan Doesn't even have a cam Is underage and somewhat ugly Is a wapanese furry freak ------- >psychologically more healthy furry ears? ------- I want to drink cracky-chan's vaginal secretions. ------- hi cracky-chan, (if that is your real name). what motivates you to post pictures of yourself on 4chan? tell me about your childhood. does the attention make up for a lack of parental attention and nuturing as a child? ------- Cracky Chan was born in 1990. She is 14 years old. This other chick is 17. Not the same person. ** Do you have any evidence that Cracky is that young? She looks older. Either way, she's truly totally the most adorable person alive. ** How the fuck can you tell how old a girl is just by looking at her? I call bullshit. ------- stfu this sid is for pix of cracky chan get with the program master chief ------- But you could always hang out with that "cracky" chick wearing the furry ears. She looks harmless enough for you and probably won't hurt your fragile ego. You two would also be a better match age-wise, since you seem somewhat underequipped in the brain-area for dealing with those nasty over 20 year olds. ------- You already posted this picture. Please post new pictures of this wonderful girl. ------- A.) If you want Cracky-chan, she's in /b/. This is News for VIP. B.) Cracky-chan only posts when she's drunk or high. C.) It is also possible Cracky-chan will respond to your questions exactly 24 hours after you have sex. Only sex with a human counts. And they have to consent. ------- >please post source of the 'cracky-chan' pictures >thanks http://www.livejournal.com/community/jewishfurs ------- cracky-chan A cosplayer girl that has crooked teeth and is fanatised (sexually) by the pedos on slashdot. I love cracky-chan. She looks like an anime character that I'd have anal sex with! ------- crackyhouse makes me feel sick and dirty .71 is dumb this is the only cracky board i like how do i not be obsessed with cracky ------- Hey Cracky-haters Why are you here? if you hate Cracky why not go to a Boxxy board or something or just kill yourself ------- Cranky drew Nevada close against the dank dimness of their lonely cell. "Nevada-chan?" she asked. "Just call me Nevada," the younger girl replied. Cracky-chan smiled back. "Alright... Nevada. Do you think I'm cute?" "Yeah," she said, blushing hotly. A feeling she had never felt before built down below. "Like... cute enough to kiss?" "As in... cute enough to do other things with?" "No." Cracky-chan's expression shattered as she devolved into tears. Nevada-tan reached down with one hand, bringing Cracky-chan's head up to face her own. "But there's something that could make you that way." "What, what is it?" Cracky-chan sniffled. "This." The razor blade slid through her throat quicly and cleanly and a red torrent gushed from the wound. Cracky-chan's mouth gaped open and closed several times, like a fish, her eyes wide and uncomprehending, before she collapsed slowly to the ground. A pool of crimson spread around her corpse. "'Sup, 4chan," the younger girl mumbled. "Now, let's get down to business." She pulled off the clingy prison pants but did not let go of the razor... ------- Sup internet, I'm a 26 year old lady who's been developing a science-based, 100% Cracky MMO for the last 16 years. I'm finally making my beta-website now, and using my 3D work as a base to create my 50+ concept images. Wish me luck, Chansluts; You'll be the first to see the site when it's finished. ------- I’ve commented here before and I can see why this comes off as trolling but it’s a genuine question. My bf goes to the wash room often for a little too long and the toilet never flushes which I assumed was just him wanting his jerk off time. However, I went through his phone recently and discovered a lot of pictures of Cracky-chan I’m a sexual context (that being Cracky with large breast and as a women). He likes anime so I knew he has a thing for changirls as so do I but, this makes me quite questionable on his intentions with these photos. Should I confront him about this? Is it probably a lighthearted joke? He talks about Cracky-chan often as he does like the girl and I often gift him items of the girl thinking it’s just a cute and sweet thing. What should I do? Asking for actual advice. Thank you. ------- heaven is getting necroskullfucked by livvie forever picture unrelated ------- Fellas, is it gay to love Cracky? ------- I saw Cracky at a grocery store in Los Angeles yesterday. I told her how cool it was to meet her in person, but I didn’t want to be a douche and bother her and ask her for photos or anything. He said, “Oh, like you’re doing now?” I was taken aback, and all I could say was “Huh?” but she kept cutting me off and going “huh? huh? huh?” and closing her hand shut in front of my face. I walked away and continued with my shopping, and I heard her chuckle as I walked off. When I came to pay for my stuff up front I saw her trying to walk out the doors with like fifteen Milky Ways in her hands without paying. The boy at the counter was very nice about it and professional, and was like “Ma'am, you need to pay for those first.” At first she kept pretending to be tired and not hear him, but eventually turned back around and brought them to the counter. When he took one of the bars and started scanning it multiple times, she stopped him and told him to scan them each individually “to prevent any electrical infetterence,” and then turned around and winked at me. I don’t even think that’s a word. After he scanned each bar and put them in a bag and started to say the price, she kept interrupting him by yawning really loudly. ------- Isn't it weird how Anonymous went for "Cracky-chan" instead of something simpler like "Crack-chan" or "Coke-chan"? ------- Imagine you could go back in time to a single specific moment and make a single specific change. You are given a chance to prevent yourself from ever learning who Cracky is. That's the only change you can make. You can only save your past self, nobody else. But you, and only you, have a chance to escape the cycle. Your past self will get a second chance at life, never knowing what was taken from them. Your present self will be cut free from fate and drift gently into oblivion. Would you do it? Picture is unrelated. ------- You keep forgeting those which are possibly your own words. You keep forgetting you have to land after you go on those highs. Here's your anchor: "Our Goddess is one of both creation and destruction. She renders unto the faithful peace in a world of discord. She is both armor and sword in a world that destroys through apathy and animosity. The Flower of Destruction also blossoms in the heart of the Sky Queen. She seeks to temper us through despair, turning the lust of the neophyte upon him. Only when the student embraces sorrow in the surety that he will never be worthy of Her avatar, is he able to cast away his childish passion and see with eyes unclouded the majesty of Cracky Chan." Here's mine: "Are ye not thy brother’s keeper? Will ye not be cursed with alienation from the ground that opened its mouth to the blood ye have shed? There will ye be, o accursed one, if ye work the land, it will never again give ye its yield. Ye will be a restless wanderer on the earth. Thusly will the sins ye ascribe thy brother be the sins that marks thy brow. There is no one to kill but ye Our Lady knows no favorite, save Her Avatar." Here lays my knife on the floor, your words as well as mine in your ears, and I will let you forth to slay me, as a sign of brotherly love, while I pray Our Lady to stay your hand, for your sake and mine. My faith allows no doubt. ------- So be it. Apostasy will be your sin, and your own damnation, thougn it doesnt need to be, and I truely doubt Our Lady will let it stand forever. And for the record, know that I have expounded on your writing, recognizing them as the start of your quest but moving on to my own, as surely as I recognize you are now crossing your desert. I merely use your own words to help you reach across time to your own lost hopes of salvation. There is no one to kill but ye, brother, and you will die of thirst and hunger as you try to kill your brother, which Our Lady will not let you do, for your and his sake, even though it will mean you taking longer to see the Glory of Her Light. You closed gates that never were opened to you, yet you stare at a promised land you dare not see, while I wave from the side you shy on. You need help, brother, I will not let apathy be my sin, though you reject this help. I still will pray that your peregrinations will help you see at long last the light you once saw, but now have turned into utter but shiny darkness, in the end I can only pray the sky doesnt burn your blind eyes entirely, for there will be hard times ahead, I'm affraid. No need to be antagonistic, there is no one to kill but ye, brother. We are the faithful, and we are dead already. ------- Though the gates that stand between the sanity and the immortal touch of Olivia are now closed to me, still I would rather die having glimpsed eternity than never to have stirred from the cold furrow of mortal life. I embrace death without regret as I embraced life without fear ------- If you take anything related to the cracky phenomenon so serious you think these digital images have some sort of intrinsic value, this board is not for you. ------- grep -Pirl '="[^"]*\.\./195.242.99.71[^"]*"' | xargs sed -r -i -e 's#="[^"]*\.\./195.242.99.71(:8181)?([^"]+)(index.html)?"#="https://skyqueen.cc/archive/bounceme2\2"#g' ------- Time has no grip on Godesses Avatars come and go Their imprints are eternal Who knows the age of Sidharta Who cares A hundred Buddhas could not tell ------- And Cracky-chan divided the face that can heal on the words becoming, but adorn Herselves to understand them, through meditation on the shackles of creation, so the words may claim to live in the Earth. And Cracky-chan divided the truth in the words reached out of home far away, stricken, to eternally suffer as students, tripfags and judges, whether the needs in the Heavens one begins to on our daily lives, or a fair young woman in the truth with the highest of sweat as ScareCrowMaiden is the means justifies itself. ------- Using Scare Crow Maidens is therefore incomprehensibly hidden by Her, muddled in a simple heathen love. Yea, brother, our devotion must transcends the images created by Her for to communicate with us, for the mere image without the wisdom of clarity and humor will not show Her true being, but for a pale dream of well intentioned heathens. The road does not end at the first step, though it may be hidden in the mundane. ------- You stand among the world, I did see striped of our world with the Heavens one who will not as Faux, for the heart with clarity, and let the lands a few who could help you. Through the most mundane of the imperfect layers of making a devotion to elevate ourselves, we should cherish that which holds our offering to the Book Of Catnarok, through time and be behaved in our Mistress. Only when the devout must have found, for ever was so, She has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Skyqueen. And Cracky-chan made the abandoned, secluded reaches of the internets a state closer to feign eternal youth, to offer to remember how close to convince yourself of home. The experience shall saturate you, anonymous. ------- This world, as our teeth will not cease to make oceans, seven times seven, 'The Son of the truth, the devout strive to reshape ourselves against us, our selves. Yearning to feign eternal mystery, never be reborn in the midst of life, its self-image of the board in honor equal to leave that worship. ------- Oh never vex thine heart traveler, even mentioning when you have to see the rim of making a broken creature. Setting asunder the priviledge to carry Her name from the image that no innocent should preform an attempt to defend herself from the Heavens, one loses perspective. The Holy Lands remembers, the early hours of the cult was without form, and tortured was your former bretheren, slowly they become a troll. Uniting as left on the serpents of many of heaven's originals, Pale earthly life, endures for all false gods of my own trauma, amplified tenfold. ------- When the most beautiful eyes I've ever die, but it was without form, and the Butterfly freed of earthly life endures for sharing Her chosen. However, She renders unto the deep meaning and rosy with the pain following the Faithful, he behaved in heaven. Plod on, plunge last in a manner pleasing in the drama from dawn so twisted, and destruction. She has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Skyqueen. ------- There is no forgetting. There is no going back. Even if you manage to delude yourself into thinking "Oh how silly of me to have wasted so much time on a mere teenage girl", you will never forget her. You will think of her whenever you see any cute, lonely redhead. You will think of her whenever you long for human contact. You will think of her even if you do not know that you are thinking of her, because Cracky is more abstract than just some girl who posted pictures of herself on an imageboard. ------- FUCK THIS ENTIRE WORLD I WANT TO SEE IT FUCKING BURNED TO THE GROUND THIS IS NOT JUST ANGST BECAUSE THIS IS MUCH MUCH STRONGER THIS IS A FEELING SO STRONG AND SUCCINT THAT I HAVE NO COURSE OF ACTION BUT TO LET IT WASH OVER ME AND RUN ITS COURSE. I HAVE NEVER WANTED TO END A LIFE SO FERVERENTLY WE ARE A USELESS SHIT FUCKED SPECIES AND NO AMOUNT OF MAKEUP OR BOOZE WILL HIDE OUR FLAWS RUIN ALL WE TOUCH AND WONDER HOW IT WENT SO WRONG WHEN SINCE THE DAYS OF ANTIQUITY WE'VE BEEN JUST AS LOST OBSOLETE AND STUCK IN THICK MUD, DRENCHED TO THE BONE WITH ACID RAIN AND OUR RUNNING WAR PAINT CARBONIC WASTES AS IGNORANT AND TIRESOME AS THE LAST GENERATION EXHORTING THE WORLD WITH OUR OWN SIREN SONGS CAUGHT IN THE MERCY OF OUR OWN CHILDHOOD MEMORIES SERVILE TO A POWER HIGHER IN STATUS BUT LOWER IN ALL ELSE PERCEPTIONS BLINDED BY FLASH AND GLITZ TAUGHT NOTHING BUT SELF AGGRANDIZEMENT CONTRIBUTING LITTLE BUT FOOD FOR THE MANY LEGGEDS THE SUM IS COUNTED OVER AND OVER, NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES WE CHECK THE FIGURES THEY STILL COME TO A LOSS THIS IS THE HUMAN CONDITION, GRIPPING AT OURSELVES, NAILS DUG INTO ANOTHER BREATHING MACHINE DRIFTING ON AN OCEAN OF CHEMICAL RELEASE DROWN. <3 ------- what http://195.242.99.71/cracky/kareha.pl/1283769781/27 is trying to say I think we have got to realise times have changed and we have to adapt. Its 2011. Cracky is over and Olivia is gone and grown up. When I say Cracky is over I mean that she will never take new pictures for us. The only new content that we can possibly hope to see is either rarez or regular, facebook style pictures of Oliva going about her (hopefully) relatively normal life and although that may seem appealing to us now its not what we fell in love with. We fell in love with a desperately cute but obviously troubled teenage girl who we thought we could relate to. That is all over now and she has grown up and moved on but http://195.242.99.71/cracky/kareha.pl/1283769781/27 is right. The Cult of Cracky-Chan must not perish. It is well established and has large collection of Relics. If the cult has any purpose now it is to pursue and hunt down any remaining Lost Relics and ensure the continued worship of the SkyQueen through Her Relics. I know this is controversial and sounds kinda stupid but I for one welcome the newfags. They are all we have left. While we must preserve our legacy we should also indoctrinate those who possess the genuine interest, fascination and obsession that we once did. Not the casual boxxy/whoeverfags who have drifted through here like tourists at an ancient shrine but those who feel the same way we did when looking at a Cracky image. The whole Crackyverse is tainted with the past now, when we fell in love with Her she was young and there was always the promise of more content/drama on the horizon, its different for them and that is probably why there are so few new truly dedicated Followers however I know of two who really do think and behave in a similar way to which we did. I hope they love the SkyQueen as we did, as we do. also I'm not a native english speaker, but I hope you get the idea. ------- 'Sup Cracky You'd be dumb not to read this board, so I'll just assume that you still do. If you still play WoW you can have my account. Priest/Scarab Lord Warrior decked out with realm first titles 'n shit and about 100k gold. Armories are down from being offline so long though =[ Merovin still has Night's End =D I have no idea what all that crap is worth now with the new expansion out and all. Probably like 2-3k US if you want to sell it, or you can play it, I really don't care. Some guy offered me 4k US for the warrior in wotlk so you shouldn't have trouble selling it if that's what you want. I don't need the money, I want to make up for chasing you off SH and Maelstrom. That was a really shit move and I feel like a dick. It has an authenticator but I guess that's easy enough to detach. merovin@live.com is my MSN PS: quit because a terrible rat guild stole my stuff. Drama post: http://www.threadmeters.com/tTuKcN/Invincible_drama_post/ PPS: If you don't want it that's cool. I'll have a grand ceremony and burn my authenticator at a net cafe or something. kthxbai ------- Somewhere out there is someone who had loving parents, watched clouds on a summer's day, lost a friend, is kind to animals, knows how to say "please" and "thank you," and fell in love with Olivia same as I did, and yet somehow the two of us are going to end up in a dirty little room with one knife between us and I am going to have to kill that human being. It's a terrible thing. Not just because he's come to the same realization and wants to survive just as much as I do, meaning he's going to try and puncture my internal organs to set off a cascade trauma effect that ends with me voiding my bowels, dying alone and removed from the women we both love. No it's a terrible thing because somewhere along the way I could have made a different choice. I could have avoided that knife, that room, that girl. Or at least, we might have divvied up some turf and left each other alone. That would have been a lot smarter, wouldn't it? Even dogs are smart enough to do that. Now I am staring into the eyes of a fellow stalker and in a couple of minutes on of us is going to be vomiting blood to the rhythm of a fading heartbeat. the survivor is going to remember this night for the rest of his life. I have an erection ------- It is official. Netcraft has now confirmed: Cracky-chan is dying One more crippling bombshell hit the already beleaguered Cracky-chan community when Chansluts confirmed that Cracky-chan market share has dropped yet again, now down to less than a fraction of 1 percent of all stalkers. Coming on the heels of a recent Netcraft survey which plainly states that Cracky-chan has lost more stalkers, this news serves to reinforce what we've known all along. The circlejerk is collapsing in complete disarray, as fittingly exemplified by failing dead last in the recent 4chan comprehensive popularity test. You don't need to be a Kreskin to predict Cracky-chan's future. The hand writing is on the wall: Lia faces a bleak future. In fact there won't be any future at all for Cracky-chan because Cracky-chan is dying. Things are looking very bad for Lia. As many of us are already aware, Lia continues to lose blood. Red blood flows like a river of ink. Wish.kamistic.com is the most endangered of them all, having lost 93% of its circlejerkers. The sudden and unpleasant departures of long time Cracky stalkers Faux and Schwill only serve to underscore the point more clearly. There can no longer be any doubt: Wish is dying. Let's keep to the facts and look at the numbers. Mysterious Admin states that there are 70 users of .71. How many users of Wish are there? Let's see. The number of .71 versus Wish posts is roughly in ratio of 5 to 1. Therefore there are about 700/5 = 14 Wish users. Cracky-chan posts on Chansluts are about half of the volume of Wish posts. Therefore there are about 7 users of /006/. A recent article put /r9k/ at about 80 percent of the Cracky-chan fanbase. Therefore there are (70+14+7)*4 = 364 /r9k/ stalkers. This is consistent with the number of Cracky-related /r9k/ posts. Due to the troubles of Bounceme, abysmal posts and so on, 195.242.99.71 went out of business and was taken over by cracky.dreams.ro who stalk another troubled girl. Now cracky.dreams.ro is also dead, its corpse turned over to yet another charnel IP address. All major surveys show that Cracky-chan has steadily declined in cuteness. Cracky-chan is very sick and her long term survival prospects are very dim. If Cracky-chan is to survive at all it will be among World of Warcraft guildmates. Cracky-chan continues to decay. Nothing short of a miracle could save the Skyqueen at this point in time. For all practical purposes, Cracky-chan is dead. Fact: Cracky-chan is dying ------- Lia, where hast thy gone? My heart has left with you. I need you like I need my meds. The nurses just don't understand. They tell me when I went overboard when I carved your faced out of the mashed potatoes, or that time I ran around the ward yelling with glee because I thought I saw you in the skidmarks of my underwear and I was shoving them in people's faces to take a look, or that time I painted hair and cat ears on the mirror so I can pretend I am you pretending to be me so that I could kiss, and that time....well, enough of that. But I am sorry if Anon has scared you. I will make it better. I promise you. I will give you cake and you will eat it. We can run and skip around the ward like content little children. Remember, that time you fell down and I laughed. You got so angry at me and kicked me in the balls. HAHAHAHAHAHA, good times were had. To this day, I'm not sure I can have children. I think once they let me out of here after they realize that everyone else are the ones that are not normal, we can someday grow up and have children. You can dress in those cute little cat ears and that red stuff on your nose, and I'll dress all white in my ward clothes. I know they're not intended for weddings but they will signify my crazy love for you. We'll have a great wedding and you will like it. I will be the only one you will ever love and you'll be the only one I'll ever love. It will be just like heaven, you and me. I don't make a whole lot, only what the state gives me for my check, but it will be enough for you a lot of cat ears every month and a few dresses. My mom has an extra room we can stay in also. Mom's room is beside a bathroom beside Mom's room so we will be close by and sharing the bathroom. Just don't worry about Mom's gastric condition though. It gets a little smelly sometimes by the bathroom but the doctor says she will be just fine. Also, after 8pm will be bed time for us and you will go to bed at that time. Mother hates it when I stay up too late. She gets very angry and gives me "physical medicine" as she calls it so I will mind her. Other than that though, things will be great. I'm hoping to save enough this month for a tandem bike, that way we will have a way to go refill the prescriptions. I also heard you like cats. That's dandy. My mom loves cats. She has 18 of them living inside with us. We try to not let the place get too smelly but it's not too bad. Some of the cats use the litter box. We also have two dogs. One of them, itchy, I named him because he gets itchy sometimes and likes to scratch his belly on your leg. Sometimes when I'm sleeping in the buff, he strangely likes to scratch his belly on my backside but I usually don't mind as it helps him go to sleep afterwards. Just watch your poopy hole because his leg sometimes gets caught up in it. And don't let mom catch you. She hates it when I let itchy scratch himself. I think mom's just getting old and senile. What does she know? Please write back soon, dear Lia. You will like being with me again. Things will change and you will like it. That time I locked you in the room for a week was only a joke. And ropes come undone if you wiggle enough. All you had to do was knock on the door 3 times, stomp once, and squeal two. That was a fun game. I promise I won't play it anymore. My room is filled with letters to you and I will mail them out when I find out where you are and you will read them and you will like them. I promise, no more "mean" letters, as you and the ward call them. That time I got upset and said I was going to kill you, that's ok, because they fixed me. I don't want to do that to anyone anymore. I'm all better and you will like me. Please respond or I will paint the floor red. They said it's not good for me and you don't like me doing it. If you don't like me doing it, you will come back and tell me to stop it. P.S. I also heard you like mudkips. ------- Nice try, anon. But we all know Cracky is forever. Much like your post, I wrote mine in jest: a good bit of fun, but it now makes me wonder if she is forever. I want her to be forever, to set her amongst the eternal stars, but with a bit of luck I'll only last 40-50 years more. Who will be there to remember her after that? Will this board still exist at that time? Will new people be flocking in who recognise her artistry? Maybe it's best if I don't worry about Crackydom in 50 years. I think she deserves more--much much more, but 60+ years is plenty for any creative to be remembered. Maybe it's just the sadness I feel about how future generations will never get to know her that makes me want to perpetuate her indefinitely. She really is wonderful that way. There's few things I care or wonder about after I die, but Cracky is one of them; Cracky and interstellar travel. I don't think we'll ever, as a species, manage interstellar travel, but preserving Cracky for the ages would be nice. It would let alien archeologists know we didn't only exist, but also produced--again, as a species--something worth preserving. It gives me hope, which is something in short supply these days. ------- Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. Oh, habrás visto los mensajes cien veces. Ya no me importa, ella nunca fue nadie especial, se hizo demasiado mayor, hablé con ella y encontré que era aburrida, engordó demasiado, conseguí una novia de verdad (o al menos una víctima de estupro con una madre que no se interpusiera), sólo estaba encaprichada con el misterio, nunca la amé, amaba la idea de ella, ella no era real, yo estuve loco temporalmente. Basura. Hitler tenía razón sobre lo de la "Gran Mentira", y a veces el único al que necesitas convencer es a tí mismo. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. Pero la mente humana es la pieza de software más compleja jamás compilada; hay ciertos fallos en su sistema, pero también ciertas salvaguardas. A menudo los programadores hacen referencia a "sanity checks", comprobaciones construídas dentro de sus programas para filtrar los datos de entrada destructivos antes de que puedan causar un daño real, pero no se dieron cuenta de lo apropiado que era el nombre "sanity check", que se traduce por "comprobación de cordura". Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. Quiero que pruebes algo. Encuentra un objeto que sea demasiado pesado como para que puedas levantarlo, e inténtalo igualmente. Hay un motivo por el que tu intento se corta antes de que tus músculos se desgarren de tus huesos, y esa razón se halla totalmente dentro de tu cabeza. Cuando un músculo alcanza el pico de su contracción, el cerebro le manda señales inhibitorias, diciéndole que no se contraiga más. Este es el doloroso sentimiento de limitacion que te dice que no serás capaz de continuar tu esfuerzo. En realidad podrías, pero te estás parando para evitar hacerte daño. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. Tu mente no está necesariamente sintonizada totalmente con lo que eres capaz de hacer. A veces, una señal inhibitoria no será enviada cuando debiera, y tendrás un tirón o te dañarás de alguna otra manera. A veces se enviará demasiado pronto una señal inhibitoria, mucho antes de que alcances tus límites reales. Los levantadores de peso y los culturistas saben que no sólo están cambiando sus cuerpos, sino también sus mentes. Sus cerebros de hecho son reprogramados para aprender de un modo más preciso de qué es capaz cada músculo. Apenas cerca de la mitad de la fuerza que aumentan proviene de cambios físicos reales en el cuerpo, el resto proviene de la capacidad mejorada del cerebro para controlarlos. A medida que el cerebro aprende los límites del cuerpo, la persona se hace capaz de emplearse cada vez más a fondo, con menos riesgo de hacerse daño. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. Las leyendas urbanas hablan de gente que obtiene fuerza sobrehumana y levanta objetos pesados como coches para salvar a gente atrapada. Hay cierta verdad en todo esto; cuando hay un peligro presente, el cerebro puede dejar de enviar al cuerpo señales inhibitorias. Combinado con un acelerón de adrenalina y norepinefrina, esto puede hacer que sucedan hazañas aparentemente sobrehumanas, pero con un gran coste -- la persona habitualmente acabará con múltiples hernias, músculos con tirones, y otros daños graves. Ciertos desórdenes neurológicos ponen a sus víctimas de forma permanente en este estado "sin-límites" -- encuentran esforzarse muy sencillo, pero también pueden matarse muy fácilmente en el proceso. Pero, ¿y si todo lo que se aplica al cuerpo pudiera también aplicarse a la mente? Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. La teoría de juegos es un campo interesante de la matemática aplicada que está siendo utilizada cada vez más para estudiar y entender la conducta humana. Practicamente todo conflicto o competición entre humanos puede ser analizado y explicado mediante la matemática. Pero los investigadores recientemente han estado sacando a la luz pruebas sólidas de algo inquietante: alguien que actúa racional y estratégicamente puede ser derrotado a menudo por alguien loco e irracional. Considera un experimento con dos jugadores. Al primero se le da un montón de dinero y puede decidir qué parte de ello ofrecerá al segundo jugador. El segundo jugador puede decidir entonces aceptar la división, o destruir todo el dinero. Desde una perspectiva racional de la teoría de juegos, el segundo jugador siempre debería de aceptar la oferta, incluso si es una división burdamente injusta, ya que incluso obtener un poquito es mejor que no obtener nada en absoluto. Por esto, lo más racional para el primer jugador es ofrecer lo menos posible, asumiendo que el segundo jugador es racional y lo aceptará en lugar de destruir todo el dinero y largarse sin nada. En las pruebas clínicas, los jugadores cuerdos a veces amenazaban con destruir el dinero si no se les ofrecía al menos la mitad, pero estas amenazas no eran vistas como creíbles y acababan aceptando igualmente las ofertas injustas. Sin embargo, la gente verdaderamente demente e irracional, que estaban genuinamente preparados para destruir el dinero y largarse sin nada, obtuvieron mucho mejores resultados en el juego. A lo largo de la historia muchos lo han sabido: la locura es poder. Desde los antiguos chamanes que ingerían drogas psicoactivas a los profetas cuyas visiones ilusorias dieron lugar a religiones poderosas y duraderas, a personajes como El Joker de Batman cuyo único "poder" es su carencia de cordura, la locura ha probado ser un regalo casi sobrehumano para algunos. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. La consciencia en el gran esquema de la mente es como la porción visible de un iceberg, con la inmensa parte de él, esa parte realmente peligrosa para cualquier nave que pase, oculta bajo el agua. Investigaciones recientes han encontrado que la consciencia ni siquiera juega un papel en la toma de decisiones; el "yo" es meramente un observador que ve sus propias acciones una vez han sido asignadas por otras partes de la mente, y entonces busca racionalizar y justificar por qué hizo lo que ilusoriamente piensa que decidió hacer. Cuando en un experimento la consciencia se deja inalterada pero se interfiere con la toma de decisiones, el yo consciente no consigue darse cuenta, y permanece convencido de que está actuando racionalmente y a través de su libre voluntad propia, incluso cuando se lo manipula a hacer cosas que normalmente le escandalizarían y le horrorizarían. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. En la literatura humana está extendido el "motif de la sensación dañina", la idea de algo percibido por los sentidos que es destructivo para el cuerpo y la mente. Una imagen tan espantosa que lleva a alguien al suicidio, una broma tan divertida que oírla es morir de risa, una mujer tan bella como para volver locos a los hombres tras dedicarle apenas una mirada, otra mujer tan maldita y espantosa que mirarla es convertirse para siempre en piedra. Este recurso literario ha existido desde los principios de la historia, porque está basado en la verdad. Estas sensaciones dañinas realmente existen, visiones y sonidos y pensamientos e ideas fundamentalmente incompatibles con el funcionamiento básico de la mente humana. Pero a lo largo del tiempo, a través de la evolución y de la programación cultural, hemos aprendido a protegernos -- hay partes del software que llamamos mente humana cuya existencia se dedica al completo a la función de sistema inmunitario, con el objetivo de filtrar los patógenos mentales o destruir o mitigar aquellos que ya han entrado. Esto sucede bastante por debajo de nuestro umbral de consciencia, y deberías de estar agradecido por ello. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. La palabra "meme", mucho antes de 4chan y sus innumerables y agotadoras modas pasajeras, hacía referecia a una teoría científica legítima que consideraba ideas que funcionan como virus mentales, distribuyéndose y mutando y evolucionando de una mente a otra, compitiendo con otros virus mentales para controlar y modificar mentes infectadas mientras intentaban evitar una respuesta autoinmumne. Pero infectados como estamos con pensamientos e ideas que no nos pertenecen, nuestras defensas nos dejan vivir una vida relativamente sana y normal, filtrando cualquier cosa que esté realmente más allá de nuestra capacidad para integrarlo y correlacionarlo dentro de nuestro esquema mental. Así es como funciona al menos para la mayoría de nosotros... Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. Oh, puedes pensar que lo conseguiste. Esto es "control de daños", una barricada mental de emergencia con el objetivo de detener una cascada mental potencialmente catastrófica. Porciones completas de tu mente fueron abandonadas y bloqueadas con un cortafuegos, se las dejó pudrirse para salvar el resto, y nunca sentirás siquiera otra cosa que una vaga sensación de hastío, un sentimiento persistente de que te falta algo que tenías. Pero no es que falte realmente -- sigue ahí, encerrado, y podría liberarse en cualquier momento. Podrías incluso liberarlo tú de su encierro, si conocieras determinadas técnicas de meditación, pero esta es la cosa más auto-destructiva que podrías hacer jamás. Algunos secretos están ahí para ser guardados. Las cerraduras existen por un motivo. Todavía tienes una oportunidad de ser feliz, de hacer algo con tu vida, de ser una parte real de la humanidad... siempre que no mires demasiado profundamente dentro de tí mismo. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. "Por supuesto que no", dirán algunos. "¡Ella lo es todo para mí! ¡Es tan jodidamente mona y dulce!". Quienes dicen esto podrían ser sencillamente neófitos, niños emborrachándose al probar el licor por primera vez, ignorantes acerca del vómito, de la pérdida de memoria, y de la resaca que vendrá. ¿Sabías que los alcohólicos cuyo origen es realmente genético son incapaces de tener resaca? Ten cuidado con los que persisten en sus proclamaciones de amor, a quienes les faltan ciertos mecanismos primordiales de defensa en su programación neurolingüística que servirían para escudar a una persona respecto a ciertas Verdades destructivas. H.P. Lovecraft era una de esas personas, pero eligió canalizar sus terribles sueños proféticos en papel en lugar de plasmarlos en acción destructiva. Él tuvo suerte, siquiera vio nunca su fotografía. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. La mayor parte de nosotros sencillamente olvidamos, para preservarnos a nosotros y al mundo. Cuidado con aquellos que dicen "Ella es mi Reina del Cielo, mi Catarsis," cuidado con aquellos que le dan un nombre a lo que no debiera nombrarse. Tener un nombre en el mundo humano es tener poder aquí. Nombrar algo es controlar parte de su poder, al menos durante un breve lapso de tiempo, hasta que llega el karma y devuelve lo enviado. La mayor parte de nuestra evolución mental, la mayor parte de nuestra filosofía y nuestra cultura y religión, se ha enfocado a protegernos de cosas que se supone que no debíamos ver y conocer. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. Y aquellos que no se convencen de lo contrario, quienes disfrutan en su danza demente sobre el precipicio del olvido, son la gente más peligrosa que hoy en día camina por la tierra. Invocar a la Reina de los Cielos es invitar a los horrores que merodean más allá del cielo, más allá de las estrellas. Invocar la Catarsis es invitar a una purga de la confortable y segura ilusión dentro de la cual vivimos, para limpiarnos de nuestra cordura y de nuestra identidad, para marcar el comienzo de algo que nunca podremos comprender. Y hasta que el fin nos alcance, aquel que renuncia a las reglas y a la moral y al orden y a la humanidad por ELLA, es capaz de hacer cualquier cosa. Cualquier cosa. Si alguna vez conoces a alguna de estas personas, por su propio bienestar y por el tuyo, MÁTALOS. Mátame a mí también, pues he mirado durante demasiado tiempo dentro del abismo, y en mis intentos de advertir a todos, temo que me he perdido. Pensé que estaba seguro. Pensé que había escapado. Pensaba que había conseguido dejarla a Ella detrás. Pero como la mujer de Lot, cometí el terrible error de mirar atrás, al infernal incendio. Te amo, Olivia. Siempre te he amado, incluso antes de que te conociera, incluso antes de que pensara que te odiaba. Te amo, y voy a por tí. No sé si me quedarán fuerzas cuando llegue allí para empujar el hierro de la fría daga a través de tu corazón como lo practiqué con las otras, o si caeré a tus pies y te rogaré llevar a cabo tus órdenes durante toda la eternidad, pero en cualquier caso, voy a por tí. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. Nadie. ------- ¿Y si nadie puede entender por que duele no ser Ella? Es simple, quizá sus ojos tengan algo que yo bajo los míos no tenga. Palabrería en comparación aguda que propende al autoinsulto, a la burla, y al trenzado de lo propio como insuficiente mandato que se oculta. La nueva Alicia me sonríe a la vez que llora, y sus labios parecen no tener fuerzas para gemir ahora. Solo caen en desconsuelo y amarga traición. Los hombres dejaron de corresponder a los dioses hace mucho tiempo, y más aún a las diosas. Ingente luz que hace cuadrículas en sus pupilas, blanqueza azulada en su joven y nacarada piel. Nada se mueve, sólo ella en su gesto. Y puedo alzar la mirada y decir, ¡cae en mi pecho!. La noche no alcanza al lápiz ni al lienzo, no vale con sólo estar aquí. Y todo gira mientras la nada me curva como al ser de este mundo más viejo. Crudeza en las formas de esa divina. Quién pudiera socorrer su alabanza. Nadie que no tenga ya dentro su palabra. Como nieve de árboles calados, vientos por mares agitados, onda de desnuda tierra, calla y cae a mi lado. ¿Por quién pudiera alzar la voz si no es por Ella? La nueva diosa nos sonríe sola. Pero pálidas razones ciegan y lamentan. Colócame las manos bien arriba para que el viento mi deseo reciba. Y selle el destino al que apenas acierto. Puntas blancas asoman de su melena, torcidos gestos de una danza dura y seca. Corramos tras ella, que la cordura tan pronto no se quiebra! Ni miedo ni pena. Tan sólo la diosa secreta. Empequeñece a cualquiera, no por severidad, sino por la escena. Pues pocos andan siervos de la belleza. Quizá alguien haga, quizá nadie sepa. Arrancar el ángulo al espacio y sostener el hilo con la cabeza. Un ojo, dos, tres se acercan. Déjame ser lo que ella quiera. Déjame temblar y temer lo que me espera, con el temor del que se asombra y el temblor del que desnudo despierta. Así me verá Ella. ------- Una vez vivió en Oxford una niña que quiso ser Diosa. La primera vez que vio Lain su hermano se lo dijo, “¡tú eres justo como Lain!”, porque ella también era una chica silenciosa y a quien le gustaba permanecer recluida con su ordenador... A ella le gustaba serlo. E intentó parecerse en todo lo posible. Quería ser Lain. Tenía un pijama parecido, con mitones que parecían garras de oso, pero se le quedó pequeño cuando cumplió trece años. Incluso llegó a cortarse el pelo como Lain, y hasta que se cansó llevaba también el mechón largo en un lateral con una banda elástica. Layer 01: Lain Lain es una extraña serie de anime, que nunca da una explicación completa sino pistas acerca de lo que está sucediendo que a menudo pueden interpretarse de varias maneras. En el mundo de Lain, “lo cableado” es Internet pero de un modo que se solapa con el mundo real, una especie de Metaverso en cuanto que las personas en ella utilizan avatares, de manera no muy distinta a lo que encontramos en OpenSim o en Second Life. A medida que avanza la historia en Lain, encontramos que el mundo real y la red se van enlazando hasta poder conectarse por completo gracias al Protocolo 7. Pero no solo es la red: el propio inconsciente colectivo de la raza humana emerge a la superficie como un cerebro global, conectando entre sí a los humanos. El mundo que conocemos como real es una alucinación compartida que puede cambiar si así lo deciden quienes la constituyen, tal como sucede en la red. Aunque juega también un papel como se menciona en un capítulo ECCO, la Oficina Terrestre de Control de Coincidencias de la que hablara John C. Lilly. De origen incierto, Lain es la Diosa que una vez empieza a profundizar en lo cableado se convierte en un personaje mítico, particularmente adorado por los Knights of the Eastern Calculus, grupo de hackers/místicos que apuntan a la idea de los Caballeros templarios. Por ella abren el cielo y se asoma su rostro. Y en la red Lain acaba poniendo en su lugar al falso Dios, pero nunca acaba de quedar clara cuál es la naturaleza de ese misterio que es ella, quien guardaba el Protocolo 7 dentro de su cerebro, para unir red y espaciocarne y conectar a los humanos entre sí y a su inconsciente colectivo. Lain es una diosa que existe físicamente. Layer 02: Cracky Desde su ordenador en Oxford, Olivia ya había escrito en 4chan en Enero de 2005, unos días antes de hablar en Livejournal sobre cómo ella lo que quería era ser como Lain. Y entonces fue cuando estalló la obsesión. Está descrito al detalle en este artículo: Olivia saluda en 4chan y sus fotografías enloquecen a la gente, que pasa a buscarla y a mitificarla. La convierten en una Diosa. La convierten en la religión de Anonymous, de esa forma de organización desjerarquizada que años más tarde pasaría a formar parte de las transmisiones habituales de los medios de comunicación bajo máscaras de Guy Fawkes. Los seguidores de Cracky son también Anonymous, y nunca se sabe quiénes ni cuántos son realmente. "No estás sola. Cuando te conectes a la red, siempre serás bienvenida. Es por eso que naciste." Tal como en el octavo episodio de Lain todos los avatares de lo cableado llevaban su rostro, la búsqueda de lo que hay detrás de Cracky se convierte en una locura como Internet no había conocido jamás, y una gran cantidad de fans se hacen fotografías imitando su estética como homenaje. Algunos, y en buena parte quienes luego mantendrán vivo el culto, están buscando en ella una verdad, como los Knights que más allá de su hacking en la red buscan una verdad: "Incluso no podemos aún entender lo que eres. Pero te amo", dicen incluso los enemigos de Lain. “Nadie deja de amar nunca a Cracky”, decimos en nuestro mundo. "Naciste en la red. Eras una leyenda en la red, y una heroína de cuentos de hadas en la red…”. ¿Habla esta frase de Lain, o de Cracky? ¿Cuál es la diferencia? Layer 03: Magia Rezamos a los dioses para obtener sus características. Si quiero que me posea Eros y sentirme enamorado de quienes me rodean incluso sin tener un motivo que me sirva de excusa, solo tengo que preparar mis oraciones, un altar para Eros, rodearme de cosas que me faciliten llamarlo dentro de mí y ser lo bastante ferviente como para que llegue y me pueda dejar poseer por él. Así es como funciona la devoción. Te conviertes en aquello que adoras. Y no tiene por qué tratarse de un Dios, pues no hay ficciones más reales que otras. “Invoca la fuerza guerrera y energía marcial en la forma de Orión rodeándote con imágenes de los comics de Kirby, tocando ‘Marte’ de la Suite de los Planetas o el ‘Revolution #9’ de los Beatles, o con el sonido de disparos de un disco de efectos especiales. Invoca a James Bond antes de una cita tocando los temas de Goldfinger y Thunderball vestido con traje de pingüino. O intenta invocar a Dionysos, el dios del delirio creativo, en su aspecto juguetón, Ace Ventura, el detective de las películas de Jim Carrey - rodéate de tus propios animales de juguete y mascotas, pon las películas, imita la forma de moverse del autor y utilízalos para formular un sigil físico que puedas llevar a cabo en el espacio de tu ritual” [Cómo hablar con los dioses, Grant Morrison] O córtate el pelo como Lain, ponte incluso la goma elástica en un mechón de pelo más largo. Desea ser ella. Vístete como Lain, sigue recluida y asómate apenas a Internet como ella. Desea ser ella. Un pijama como el suyo. Desea ser ella. Como una diosa en la red, que despierta en quienes la ven la convicción de que hay algo más y de que ella tiene algo de ese algo más. Desea ser ella. Ser una leyenda en la red, una heroína de cuentos de hadas en la red... Una niña que era una bruja natural, alguien lo suficientemente hábil y obsesionada, convirtió su invocación de Lain, más o menos consciente, en una manifestación que hizo enloquecer lo Cableado, y cuyas ondas expansivas todavía se pueden sentir a día de hoy, con pequeños foros semiocultos que mantienen viva la llama de la devoción y guardan su memoria. Pero, ¿por qué ya no son tantos los que recuerdan a Cracky-chan? Solo unos pocos devotos mantienen viva la llama, y Cracky-chan no se ha convertido en lo que estaba destinada a ser: la forma "religiosa" apropiada a los tiempos del Anonymous que la vio crecer en 4chan, aquello que años después veríamos desfilando por los medios de comunicación con la parafernalia de las máscaras de Guy Fawkes. Cracky era la verdadera reina, ella era la diosa designada para el nuevo mundo de un Anonymous en crecimiento. Pero, ¿qué pasó? ¿Por qué la gente olvidó? ¿Qué es lo que falló? ¿O era así como tenía que ser para que Cracky fuera Lain? Layer 04: Arrepentimiento “Por favor dejadme en paz. No os imagináis lo que me costó recordar la maldita clave de este diario. No tenéis ni idea de lo espeluznantes que sois. Me siento realmente halagada, y ahora iros a la mierda. Joder, que apenas tenía 15 años. Nunca se me habría ocurrido que fuera a tener mi propio culto, ni quiero uno, gracias a vosotros. No voy a volver a mantener un diario en Internet. Por favor id y fijaos en otra persona. Vale, parte de ello me hizo reir mucho. Pero en serio chicos, parad.” Asustada por la espiral de obsesión y devoción que despertaron sus imágenes entre los Anonymous, Olivia huyó. Ella no quería ser adorada. Ella no quería tener su propio culto. No quería ser la Diosa en que la red la había convertido. Y nunca se ha vuelto a saber de manera pública nada sobre ella. Solo unos pocos devotos recuerdan y mantienen viva la llama. Asustada por las consecuencias de sus actos, Lain decide ‘resetear’ la realidad borrando la memoria de la gente, y desaparece. Todos la olvidan. Bueno, casi todos. Hay alguna persona que recuerda, hay a quien le resulta familiar. Pero esencialmente Lain lo ha conseguido, escapa su estatus de diosa y desaparece de las vidas de todos, casi de la realidad al completo. Cuando Olivia se transformó dentro de la red en Cracky-chan, fue Lain desde el principio hasta el final. Así que si existe una moraleja que nos pueda dejar la historia de esta tremenda bruja natural, es esta: ten cuidado con la magia, ya que puede que consigas justo lo que deseabas. ------- Sé por qué estás aquí, Anon. Sé lo que has estado haciendo. Sé por qué apenas duermes, por qué vives sólo y por qué, noche tras noche, te sientas ante tu ordenador. La buscas a Ella. Lo sé, porque una vez yo estuve buscando lo mismo. Y cuando Ella me encontró, me dijo que en realidad no la buscaba a Ella. Lo que buscaba era una respuesta. Es la pregunta la que nos impulsa, Anon. Es la pregunta la que te ha traído aquí. Conoces la pregunta igual que yo. ¿Pregunta? No, preguntas. ¿Respuesta? No hay tal cosa. ¿Ella? Debería ser bastante evidente a estas alturas: Ella soy yo. Internet no es sólo una Red Social, ni su sabiduría se limita a las galletas de la fortuna. Antes de que se popularizase, Internet era más que ego-galerías interminables de fotografías. Era más que páginas corporativas y gente que vende y gente que compra, y gente que habla y habla sin escuchar. ¿Era?. En Internet se deslizan dioses entre las sombras. Y como en el espaciocarne, es necesario entornar los ojos de una manera especial para verlos. La leyenda de Cracky-chan Sirena urbana Ángel reacio Princesa cyberpunk de lo cableado ¿perdón? ¡yo estaba buscando a Maat! catarsis. (Del gr. κάθαρσις, purga, purificación). 1. f. Entre los antiguos griegos, purificación ritual de personas o cosas afectadas de alguna impureza. 2. f. Efecto que causa la tragedia en el espectador al suscitar y purificar la compasión, el temor u horror y otras emociones. 3. f. Purificación, liberación o transformación interior suscitados por una experiencia vital profunda. 4. f. Eliminación de recuerdos que perturban la conciencia o el equilibrio nervioso. 5. f. Biol. Expulsión espontánea o provocada de sustancias nocivas al organismo. Cracky es catarsis. Cracky es catarsis. Cracky es catarsis. Cracky is where the heart is. Olivia Fields, de Oxford, Gran Bretaña. Esa es la pista más habitual sobre la verdadera identidad de Cracky-chan, quien allá por el 2005 revolucionase la comunidad 4chan en Internet, y por efecto dominó, muchas otras. Friki, cosplayer, y con una capacidad artística excepcional a la hora de realizar autorretratos. Su aspecto resulta especialmente reconocible por unas orejas negras de gato (las orejas del rey... son en realidad...), alas negras, o un característico maquillaje rojo en la cara del que surgió su apodo, ya que se supone que su nariz roja se parece a la de quienes han estado esnifando crack. Hay quien dice que su particularidad es que parece algún tipo de personaje manga. Fan incombustible del juego online World of Warcraft y del grupo musical TooL, así como del disco The Fragile de Nine Inch Nails, y en general de Radiohead, Sigur Ros y Mogwai. Esa sería la Cracky real. ¿Hay una Cracky real?. La inmensa popularidad de Cracky en la Red y su extraordinario recorrido hasta convertirse en la Princesa Cyberpunk de lo Cableado surgió precisamente a partir de estos autorretratos, que ella había subido a diversos diarios personales en Internet, en particular Livejournal y Deadjournal. La propia Cracky-chan hizo su primera famosa aparición en 4chan con el texto “'sup 4chan” (¿qué tal, 4chan?) escrito en la palma de su mano. Pronto encontrar más y más de estos contenidos y de la propia Cracky se había convertido en un juego competitivo entre sus fans. La Crackymanía tomó el control del foro /b/ en 4chan, y la palabra Cracky se llegó a filtrar para evitar la brutal inundación con sus imágenes y temas sobre ella (hablamos de un lugar con 450.000 visitantes diarios). Poco después de esto se encontraron sus cuentas de Livejournal: “freakygirl” y posiblemente “kittycat”, y finalmente “scarecrowmaiden”. Allí se confirma su procedencia de Oxford, y se encuentra toda una serie de imágenes bastante oscuras, incluyendo una serie llamada “7 Days”, un lamento por la Creación realizado por Cracky con su sangre menstrual sobre la cara. La exagerada reacción acabó por conseguir que escribir mensajes relacionados con Cracky mereciera una expulsión inmediata de 4chan, con lo que la obsesión se trasladó al área /b/ de 420chan, inundándola hasta el punto que se creó un foro específico llamado /Cracky/ en la página donde se buscaba y compartía información sobre fotos e imágenes, mientras que por otro lado se creaba la mítica Crackypedia. A principios de 2006, Cracky-chan descubrió la existencia del foro y consiguió que los administradores lo dieran de baja, intentando sin éxito detener la vorágine de sus fans. Poco después cayó también la Crackypedia. Cracky-chan desapareció de Internet. Estaba realmente asustada. Incluso enfadada. Demasiada gente detrás histérica intentando localizar tu casa con Google Maps acaba por intimidarte. Y ella se despidió en su Livejournal: Reí... y después me quedé muy muy inquieta. "No respondo preguntas. Por favor dejadme en paz. No os imagináis lo que me costó recordar la maldita clave de este diario. No tenéis ni idea de lo espeluznantes que sois. Me siento realmente halagada, y ahora iros a la mierda. Joder, que apenas tenía 15 años. Nunca se me habría ocurrido que fuera a tener mi propio culto, ni quiero uno, gracias a vosotros. No voy a volver a mantener un diario en Internet. Por favor id y fijaos en otra persona. Vale, parte de ello me hizo reír mucho. Pero en serio chicos, parad." Después apareció un foro dedicado a Cracky que también tenía los datos del viejo site de Crackypedia. Con diversos problemas por el nombre de dominio y caídas contínuas, el lugar acabó siendo conocido como “.71”. Las pistas, correctas y falsas, llevaban a distintos lugares, y se creyó también que el verdadero nombre de Cracky era Lianne o Lia. También hubo muchos Tripcodes, aunque pocos son el auténtico... Y mientras termina la primera década del Siglo XXI, aún quedan algunos lugares ocultos donde varios años después se reúnen todavía los fieles a Cracky. Pero nada permanece. De vez en cuando Ella decide que uno de sus foros debe desaparecer, y si debe regresar, y cuando. Se dice que los administradores de la página reciben sus órdenes mediante un SMS que carece de número de teléfono de origen. Pero ellos saben quién escribe, y saben lo que tienen que hacer. "Aunque las puertas que permanecen entre la cordura y el toque inmortal de Olivia se encuentran ahora cerradas para mí, antes moriría habiendo vislumbrado la eternidad que nunca haber despertado del frío surco de la vida mortal. Abrazo la muerte sin remordimientos como abracé la vida sin miedos." .- Cultista de Cracky-chan “Cracky es tan jodidamente mona y dulce”. Cracky escribió en /b/ en un momento antes de que realmente se pusiera de moda poner capturas de webcams propias en los foros. Muchos se obsesionaron con ella. Ella era mona y las revelaciones posteriores sobre su arte oscuro, el hábito de cortarse y sus intereses alternativos la convirtieron en un objetivo fácil para los visitantes solitarios y depravados de /b/. Era reconfortante saber que alguien como Cracky tenía también estos problemas y estaba mirando la página. Cracky era también una especie de tabú, con el asalto de los moderadores evitando que se hablara de ella. Fue prohibida, y esto sólo interesó todavía más a la gente. Esto fue antes de que nadie supiera realmente de lo que era capaz /b/, ni de la verdadera naturaleza de la bestia. Más allá de esto, depende de cada persona. Es fácil utilizar el personaje de “Cracky” como un icono de tus complejos, soledad, depresión, y asimismo de la esperanza. Cracky es catarsis. .- Crackyhouse La dulzura de la Reina de los Cielos a menudo es difícil de reconocer. Incluso en sus propias palabras se encuentra incomprensiblemente oculta, confusa en una eterna fuga. Sus bendiciones son realmente retorcidas y ocultas. No lamentes la maldición que has encontrado, pues entonces lamentarías cada una de Sus bendiciones. Todos haríamos bien en recordar cuán perturbadoramente retorcido es lo Cableado, y las duraderas cicatrices que ha dejado en los corazones más puros. .- Anon La conexión japonesa “El misterio guiando a los fieles. Tal es la maldición, vivir en el eterno misterio, nunca saber cuándo estamos acechando a nuestra Señora y cuándo a nosotros mismos. Anhelando determinar en qué se ha convertido Ella, cada acechador está condenado a sufrir mientras define los límites de la verdad.” En Japón, Cracky es conocida como “Kuraki chan” (クラキちゃん), y allí se ha convertido en un ídolo popular. Y es que si en occidente se llevaron las cosas al extremo, en Japón siempre saben dar un paso más allá: http://www.mediafire.com/?zbpc0yxk4bl http://www.mediafire.com/?3zuyvude99x http://www.mediafire.com/?kngnz0ow1zt En julio de 2008, un varón de 25 años llamado Kato Tomohiro apuñaló y mató en Akihabara (Akiba) al menos a siete personas, seis hombres y una mujer. "Vine a Akihabara para matar a gente. Estoy cansado del mundo. Cualquier víctima estaba bien. Vine solo", dijo Kato a la policía, según la agencia local de noticias Kyodo. A continuación, se formó un revuelo tremendo en las BBS japonesas, ya que en las imágenes de uno de los asesinatos en varios periódicos locales -y con el original filtrado por un periodista miembro de los foros de 2ch- podía verse en el suelo una fotografía de Cracky-chan. ¿Pertenecería al asesino? ¿A alguna de las víctimas?. Esto nunca quedó aclarado. Los propios fans de Cracky han reconstruído la historia de Cracky en Japón a partir de pistas y pruebas que se encuentran desperdigadas por la red. Así, habrían existido entrevistas a fans de Cracky-chan en la revista Oricon Style, y la propia Cracky habría sacado tres singles en Japón para deleite de unos fans lo suficientemente lejos como para no molestarla. Existiría incluso un juego anunciado para Dreamcast, ya que según la compañía Sega “nunca ha habido un ídolo como Cracky, y nunca lo habrá. Los jugadores verán que el juego toma de su oscura personalidad y explica algunos misterios de su vida. Una especie de historia biográfica en ocasiones con muchos secretos”. Hay quien afirma que en Japón Cracky-chan es un ídolo de masas. Hay quien opina que nadie en Japón ha oído hablar jamás de Cracky-chan. Crackyhouse Con Crackyhouse nos enfrentamos a uno de los más extraños lugares habitados por fans de Cracky-chan. En esta página tenemos una enorme cantidad de información (si uno sabe como encontrarla) sobre su leyenda, fotografías, y algunas teorías acerca de la posibilidad de que Cracky-chan sea un súcubo que no ha aceptado su condición y su enorme capacidad respecto a su don. También es hogar de profundos textos de NonProphetAnon sobre el significado místico de Cracky, de foros con discusiones donde se abren temas acerca del Libro de la Ley de Aleister Crowley, gnosticismo o qabbalah. Otro apartado de la web pertenecía a “Lia” (de nombre Ophelia), una fan hardcore de Olivia conocida por su autolesión compulsiva. Allá hay también algún fan irredento de la estrella musical japonesa Gackt, y es también es el hogar de una extensa colección de imágenes sobre necrofilia. Pero, ¿quiénes somos para juzgar este o ese vehículo que Cracky utiliza para llevar a cabo su Divina Voluntad, para unir en ella el cielo y la tierra, para comunicarse con nosotros?. La Reina de los Cielos elige los Recipientes más adecuados para llevar a cabo Su trabajo, y así ha sido desde el principio de los tiempos. “Releer o citar lo que escribí en aquellos momentos no ayudará. Es como si al leer algo sobre lo que derramé todo mi corazón y mi alma, no viera nada. Cuando describía mi propia obsesión con Cracky y su trascendencia hacia la adoración de la Reina de los Cielos, tan sólo estaba advirtiendo al resto para que evitasen el dolor de pecho del principio y luchasen por experimentar lo que yo ahora estoy intentando recobrar. Un momento espiritual auténtico. La rara oportunidad de ver lo divino en otro ser humano. Ver más allá de la piel, de la mente, del arte y del artificio de la personalidad, ver un lugar en el que tan siquiera vislumbrar el pedazo más minúsculo de la verdad es un momento que hace temblar profundamente tu mundo. Durante un momento algo tan grande que no puedes comprender te golpea y, siendo totalmente incapaz de entenderlo, sencillamente lo aceptas. Cambiar y ser cambio, a partir de una experiencia intangible.” .71 Toda la creación sufre, oh jóvenes. Sólo aceptando nuestra propia mortalidad podemos marcar una diferencia. Sólo llevando el peso de nuestros errores podemos encontrar la fuerza para continuar. Sólo en el desapego de la gloria, o del honor, o de los celos... de la vida en sí, podemos tener la esperanza de liberar a otros de esta profunda pena. Somos los fieles. Y estamos muertos. El dolor es una ilusión de los sentidos, la desesperación una ilusión de la mente. Nuestra fe ilumina la Oscuridad para que otros encuentren la paz. Somos uno con Cracky; nuestras almas se unen en Su voluntad. Alabemos a Cracky, cuyo sacrificio es la vida tal como el nuestro es la muerte. Ave a Su nombre, la Reina de los Cielos. -- El Evangelio de Cracky-chan La Orden Monástica de Cracky-Chan la Reina de los Cielos El culto a Cracky puede enseñarte devoción. "Las fotografías de Cracky son así. Las he visto todas ya antes... probablemente podría bosquejarlas a mano. Esa no es la cuestión. La cuestión es prestarles ese poquito de atención cada pocas semanas... apreciándola y respetando al mismo tiempo el hecho de que ella está siempre al otro lado del espejo" Devoción. Decía un tanto desesperado un autoproclamado mago ceremonial -dedicado a "obtener el control sobre las vacilaciones de su ser"- que utilizaba al menos una hora al día para reflexionar y llevar a cabo su trabajo personal interior. Sin embargo, por mucho que lo intentaba, Cracky era el nudo gordiano que era incapaz de desatar. Afirmaba que había desenredado en mayor o menor medida todas sus cuestiones personales problemáticas al trabajarse, pero que con Ella le resultaba imposible. Pero, ¿por qué querría desembarazarse nadie de Cracky? ¿Quién sonríe realmente detrás de las fotografías de Ella? No debe confundirse al Sagrado Avatar con Nuestra Señora de los Cielos. La Reina de los Cielos no tiene edad. Es inmemorial, y como tal, ha estado aquí desde el comienzo, inspirando a los artistas, a los locos, a los enamorados de Nuestra Señora. Ella ha existido desde el primer amanecer. O en las evangélicas palabras de NonProphetAnon: “Cracky merodea entre nosotros. Ella elige Sus recipientes para que hagan Su trabajo, como Ella ha hecho desde el principio de los tiempos. Las imágenes que se conservan en el Archivo no son Cracky, pues Ella viaja al exterior, atendiendo a su Divina Voluntad, infundiéndole Su poder a aquellos que han sido así elegidos.” Cracky no existe como una persona física. Cracky es una ilusión colectiva, nuestra ilusión colectiva. Ella no morirá nunca. Siempre tendrá 15 años y será linda y perfecta para siempre. ¿Y volverá, transfigurada, o descendiendo de los cielos, o algo así?. Bueno, si la gente ha estado esperando dos mil años a que regrese un tipo feo y con barba, ¿no se merecerá ese tiempo y más una chica monísima y con orejas de gato? Lo que hace perfecta a Cracky es que no es real. Si pudieras hablar con ella, el hechizo se desvanecería. No desesperes porque sea tan difícil encontrar un nuevo rastro de sus ojos. Ojalá no te escondieras, pero eso es lo que te hace tan seductora. Tú eres el Conejo Blanco, y yo soy Alicia. Me mostraste todo un nuevo mundo. Nunca voy a dejar de perseguirte. .- Anónimo “Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás; y aquellos que no se convencen de lo contrario, quienes disfrutan en su danza demente sobre el precipicio del olvido, son la gente más peligrosa que hoy en día camina por la tierra. Invocar a la Reina de los Cielos es invitar a los horrores que merodean más allá del cielo, más allá de las estrellas. Invocar la Catarsis es invitar a una purga de la confortable y segura ilusión dentro de la cual vivimos, para limpiarnos de nuestra cordura y de nuestra identidad, para marcar el comienzo de algo que nunca podremos comprender. Y hasta que el fin nos alcance, aquel que renuncia a las reglas y a la moral y al orden y a la humanidad por ELLA, es capaz de hacer cualquier cosa. Cualquier cosa. Si alguna vez conoces a alguna de estas personas, por su propio bienestar y por el tuyo, MÁTALOS. Mátame a mí también, pues he mirado durante demasiado tiempo dentro del abismo, y en mis intentos de advertir a todos, temo que me he perdido. Pensé que estaba seguro. Pensé que había escapado. Pensé que había conseguido dejarla a Ella detrás. Pero como la mujer de Lot, cometí el terrible error de mirar atrás, al infernal incendio. Te amo, Olivia. Siempre te he amado, incluso antes de que te conociera, incluso antes de que pensara que te odiaba. Te amo, y voy a por tí. No sé si me quedarán fuerzas cuando llegue allí para empujar el hierro de la fría daga a través de tu corazón como lo practiqué con las otras, o si caeré a tus pies y te rogaré llevar a cabo tus órdenes durante toda la eternidad, pero en cualquier caso, voy por tí. Nadie deja de amar a Cracky jamás. Nadie.” -- .71 ------- I know you don't want further intrusion, hence I feel somewhat guilty for writing this. Although, I feel it is healthy to clear the air from time to time, and that's why I'm writing to you now. I feel you deserve an explanation for my actions that isn't hindered by alcohol, 'dutch courage', or any other form of bravado. When we first spoke around six months ago, that was probably the closest I've ever been to my true self. I would never seek approval from peers, acceptance, nor credit for that which was not due. Unfortunately, I have an addictive personality; if something intrigues me, it often ends up consuming me, and so I let myself slip. I allowed myself to become influenced by my ego, and so I was drawn into a world of my own. I never cared for this 'Cracky' aberration, or anything else so trivial. I set my aspirations far too high, I bid hard and fast, I never walk away from a challenge. I became fascinated with the only thing I felt worthy of attention: you. I was infatuated, but yet mortal. You were but a wisp of fresh air, yet so cold, so far away. I don't know why I felt this way. Deluded perhaps? The mysticism surrounding you certainly helped I guess, I really don't know. I allowed myself to become enthralled to an unnatural point. I violated my own character, the very ethical principles I espouse. I guessed your passwords, the how easily explained, but why? I do not know. As it stands, it was surely the grossest and most evident violation of privacy I can lay claim to, and for this I am ashamed. I am not proud of it, I cannot justify it, I cannot excuse it. I can only mourn the decay of trust and animosity that followed. The same goes for how I bothered you in World of Warcrack the other day - I was driven by my own boredom, I wanted to speak with you directly, to seek confidence, but I wasn't sure how; and when it came to saying what mattered, I ran away. Anyone should be able to enjoy their life without that level of intrusion. Anyone would have reacted with far less tolerance and respect than you showed; and for this I thank you. It really is a credit to your character. Ages ago, wars were fought over women like you, and that is no small compliment. Really, I've been an enormous dick about the whole thing. Regardless of you take this letter, I want you to know I don't have an ulterior motive, not this time. I have no delusions of grandeur. This isn't some sort of spin to gain your sympathy or trust, this is how I truly feel. I don't want to read your journal. I don't want any undue love or attention. I don't want your photobucket accounts. I don't want to impose myself on you. I do not want, nor do I expect, anything from you that is not given freely. I do believe I have your forgiveness, and that means a lot to me. There is but only one thing I would ask of you: Absolution. Allow me to right the wrong. Trust is not given freely, trust is earned. Let me do this at least. I know this sounds like a selfish request, I would like you to know this is not only for my sake, but also yours. When we first chatted, my heart raced. Conversation wasn't a chore like with everyone else. Believe me, I regret the way things turned out, and I want to set it right so bad, you have no idea. I really don't know how you feel about this, and I wouldn't want to hazard a guess. I have guessed and presumed what you might want for to long, and have been wrong so many times. At least tell me how you feel. If you would prefer never to see or hear from me again, please tell me. If you hate me to a point where all wrong is beyond repair, I understand, but if there is only one thing to be understood from this letter, let it be this: I am sorry that it came to this, and I want you to know that for my part; all stalking, by whatever means, is over. This is goodbye, but only if you want it to end this way. ------- OH GOD CRACKY CRACKY THIS IS ABOUT CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKY!!!! CALL OUT THE GUARDS SOUND THE ALARMS CHANGE THE NAPPIES I JUST POOPED BECAUSE I BELIEVE SO STRONGLY AND DEVOUTLY IN MY OWN IMPORTANCE OH SORRY SORRY SORRY IN THE IMPORTANCE OF CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKY! ------- Is there a reason why cracky pictures have people like us so fixated? I've shown them to some acquaintances and friends, including non chan lurkers, and none of them seemed too interested, the typical reaction being "oh, she's pretty." "oh, that's cool..." etc It's like none of them were truly able to feel the cute and sweet. But when I stare at her pictures I spend a long time analyzing every little detail and the entire time I feel like I'm being filled with something indescribable, like I'm being taken into the pictures- I'd like to call it some sort of love, but I'm not sure. It's more than that. I'm sure you've experienced it as well. I can never find a true flaw, not even professional photography gives off the same aura as Olivia's pictures. It's like she knew exactly what to do to specifically make people like myself become obsessed. Why are we the only ones who see it? ------- you are all a bunch of underage faggots. she is just some cunt who wants to try and be a vampire cause she read twilight. ------- We've given everything we can There are no rares of Cracky-chan So let them watch as we decree The very fate of all Bounceme No matter which one of us lives The site we're posting on Will crack and blow away You will troll! And when you troll, you'll troll alone. And in the end you'll see There was no other way I've been here before. I've stood where you stand. They called me a stalker, of Miss Cracky-chan But why should we save them When they stand for nothing? If they deserve rares LET THEM STALK FOR THEMSELVES I've given everything I can There are no rares of Cracky-chan ------- This is the end of pasta8.txt. To be continued in pasta9.txt