Author Topic: Scenes From My Memory v. Honor Thy Father  (Read 135845 times)

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Online lonestar

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #175 on: May 24, 2011, 01:23:39 PM »
Just reliving the greatest unfinished thread in DTF history.  BUMP!!!

Offline jonny108

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #176 on: May 24, 2011, 01:32:44 PM »
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUU That's karma

Online lonestar

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #177 on: May 24, 2011, 01:37:55 PM »
I got enough bad karma to last me a lifetime, a touch more won't make any fucking difference.  Besides, I hate suffering alone, tis better to have company, that's why we have bars, right?

Offline jonny108

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #178 on: May 24, 2011, 01:45:57 PM »
Ah wise guy!  :tup

Online lonestar

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #179 on: May 24, 2011, 01:48:28 PM »
 :tup

Offline Gadough

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #180 on: June 21, 2011, 10:21:17 AM »
Bump because WANT MOAR.
Gadough isn't Hitler. He's much, much worse.

Offline jonny108

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #181 on: June 21, 2011, 10:24:32 AM »
 :sadpanda:

Offline JayOctavarium

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #182 on: June 21, 2011, 06:27:25 PM »
WHAT THE FOCK???? I REFUSED TO LOOK AT THIS THREAD WHEN IT WAS STARTED BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WAS STUPID (I never opened it... it just seemed like it would be annoying) AND NOW I GOT THROUGH IT AND GET LEFT HANGING ON AT UNDER A GLASS MOTHERFUCKING MOON?

FOCK FOCK FOCK SOCK LOCK COCK!!!!!


:sadpenguin:


I just don't understand what they were trying to achieve with any part of the song, either individually or as a whole. You know what? It's the Platypus of Dream Theater songs. That bill doesn't go with that tail, or that strange little furry body, or those webbed feet, and oh god why does it have venomous spurs!? And then you find out it lays eggs too. The difference is that the Platypus is somehow functional despite being a crazy mishmash or leftover animal pieces

-BlobVanDam on "Scarred"

Offline sneakyblueberry

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #183 on: June 22, 2011, 12:31:03 AM »
Its 'FOOK' you moran :neverusethis:

Offline Arch Benemy

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #184 on: July 17, 2011, 05:25:57 PM »
Time for another hopelessly optomistic bump

Offline sneakyblueberry

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #185 on: July 19, 2011, 05:50:30 PM »
Hey guys, Indiscipline here

Next up:

Under a Glass Moon



00.01-7.05: Fooking hell, good as.



The end

Offline LieLowTheWantedMan

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #186 on: July 19, 2011, 05:51:01 PM »
 :lol

Offline JayOctavarium

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #187 on: July 19, 2011, 05:55:20 PM »
:lol :lol
I just don't understand what they were trying to achieve with any part of the song, either individually or as a whole. You know what? It's the Platypus of Dream Theater songs. That bill doesn't go with that tail, or that strange little furry body, or those webbed feet, and oh god why does it have venomous spurs!? And then you find out it lays eggs too. The difference is that the Platypus is somehow functional despite being a crazy mishmash or leftover animal pieces

-BlobVanDam on "Scarred"

Offline alirocker08

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #188 on: July 19, 2011, 05:58:22 PM »
I can remember reading through this thread before I started posting. I miss this, it was awesome :(
ITT: We discover that Alice is elvish...
Psshh, your status as a hobbit has just been a cover. Your cover has been blown.

Offline GasparXR

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #189 on: July 20, 2011, 12:21:25 AM »
Hey guys, Indiscipline here

Next up:

Under a Glass Moon



00.01-7.05: Fooking hell, good as.



The end

It's fawk, not fook.

Offline jonny108

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #190 on: July 20, 2011, 01:43:33 AM »
It's FOCK...where is he? I'm so sad  :sadpanda:

Offline sneakyblueberry

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #191 on: July 20, 2011, 02:49:45 AM »
Hey guys, Indiscipline here

Next up:

Under a Glass Moon



00.01-7.05: Fooking hell, good as.



The end

It's fawk, not fook.

WRONG

It's FOCK...where is he? I'm so sad  :sadpanda:

WRONGER

Offline GasparXR

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #192 on: July 20, 2011, 11:57:23 AM »
Actually it IS fock. I misspelled it :P

Offline 7StringedBeast

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #193 on: March 08, 2012, 09:25:29 AM »
PSYCH!
If anyone in this thread judge him; heyy James WTF? about you in Awake In Japan? Then I will say; WTF about you silly?

Offline lyfeternl

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #194 on: March 08, 2012, 10:20:45 AM »
"...the last is just a flurry of notes...so just do it and hope you don't suck..." - JP

Offline kirksnosehair

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #195 on: March 08, 2012, 11:37:18 AM »
Wow!!  :eek   I just blew the last 45 minutes reading this.  I wonder what happened to this dude?  Such potential.

Offline Implode

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #196 on: March 08, 2012, 01:19:57 PM »
Since it's pretty likely that he's not going to finish, I vote for archives.

Offline JayOctavarium

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #197 on: March 08, 2012, 05:06:55 PM »
Since it's pretty likely that he's not going to finish, I vote for archives.
I just don't understand what they were trying to achieve with any part of the song, either individually or as a whole. You know what? It's the Platypus of Dream Theater songs. That bill doesn't go with that tail, or that strange little furry body, or those webbed feet, and oh god why does it have venomous spurs!? And then you find out it lays eggs too. The difference is that the Platypus is somehow functional despite being a crazy mishmash or leftover animal pieces

-BlobVanDam on "Scarred"

Offline bosk1

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #198 on: June 15, 2018, 08:33:13 AM »
Moved and un-archived by request.
"The Supreme Court of the United States has descended from the disciplined legal reasoning of John Marshall and Joseph Story to the mystical aphorisms of the fortune cookie."

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #199 on: June 15, 2018, 04:59:22 PM »
Many many grateful thanks, mate. My soul is yours, Dark Bosker.



*Tap .. tap …* (Is this focking thing on? … )


… And after a brief intermission – brief enough to allow you to witness a couple of drive-bies by the Halley Comet© - we're back with our regularly scheduled journey into a pompous windbag's discovery of DT, life and Smirnoff-soaked self ridicule, strong emphasis on the latter one. Why? Because I love you, I really focking do, and – beware – nothing says I love you like a seven years Martin Guerre Sized disappearing act.

So, since George RR Martin can finally claim he's a faster writer than me, where were we? Fock me if I remember, I'm just lucky I got the password right*, otherwise I would be rambling alone and your lives and minds would be instantly 150% smarter due to reverse osmosys. Just peruse the previous chapters liberally and hop on for the ride.

*FULL DISCLOSURE: I succeeded in loggin in because I actually typed “Fock me if I remember” in the bar. Sometimes being an unmitigated cretin helps.

And now, without further ado, because we still focking hate ado, let's go back to that Fateful Night© of 1992.


06. Under a Glass Moon

The Drumming Dad and the Big Banging Bro, tails between their legs (Dad metaphorically, Bro anatomically), leave the premises lured by an Italian dinner and a semi-homicidal Material Mom. Ah, miserable mortal creatures! I don't need food anymore, I feed myself on The Awesome Sound of The Gay Undertakers! EDITOR NOTE: The last sentence was added in order to nicely tie the present chapter to the previous one and to remind the audience that the author was already a hopeless bumbling buffoon at the tender age of 14.

Now, dear little arsonist of creepy suspended hearts Shirley, what have you got for me? So far you pumped out (in order) a stunning opener featuring the mother of all cliff-hangers, a sexy saxy pants extractor, an epic funky pegasus ride against time, the happiest motherfocking hymn to solipsism in the history of motherfocks and a sociosoundopathical display of instrumental omnipotence. EDITOR NOTE: You can and should appreciate how the ever crafty author managed to summarise seven years past of postage, because he lives to serve. He really focking does. Would you give me a break before – in a Dramatic Turn of Fluids© - my ears start quite inconveniently to ejaculate on the carpet? Can you give me some focking filler, little Shirley? Is it normal to pray for filler on track 6 in 1992? Will I ever stop using question marks?

0.00 – 0.26: I take it as a no. Let's add to the list a spacey reinterpretation of Lawrence of Arabia's score, turning the table on every logical approach to the proper roles inside a guitar-keyboards duet. Close your eyes and begin to relax … EDITOR NOTE: No, fock, time paradox! Time Paradox! I was saying, close your eyes and tell me you don't find yourself stranded on a red desert, under a purple sky and – wait for it – a glass moon? You don't? Well, fock it.

0.26 – 0.52: Mr Myung, Mr Portnoy, would you please explain me why, while I try to anticipate the 10 most impossible things you are going to bring to the riff, you pull an 11th more impossible one out of your arses? I care for those things, you know.

0.52 – 1.19: Ooooh, the band is finally showing a nasty streak with an eeeeeeevil melody. And that sweep! Do you think I didn't notice? It sticks out like a goddess suddenly coming alive and flashing her nipples inside an ancient painting. EDITOR NOTE: The author and his delicate narrative touch are also available for children books, by the way.

1.19 – 2.08: Let me get this straight. A Pantera groove running under a Yasunori Mitsuda atmosphere before bonding into a no-nonsense hypervitaminised Queensryche verse. That's something I'm definitley writing about on a message board 26 years from now, Doc Emmett Brown.

2.08 – 2.33: Mother of Fock, James. Your hair looks like a tree full of monkeys, but you're born to part thundery clouds with your voice.

2.33 – 2.52: And I miss this bit because our new character prances on the stage. The Boy Band Sister, back home from her social life, and for social life I naturally mean ovulating in front of frothing jocks. I could describe the feeling between us as Mutual Focking Hate, but I'll settle for Deep Disgust. The following exchange actually took place:

PissedMe – Where have you been? Everybody's having dinner.

UnredeemableSlut – Are you my focking father?

FuriousMe – Am I focking Satan Spawner of Whores?

ViolentFemme – *Slap* Bear this honour in my name.

2.52 – 3.32 Remember paragraph two? Well, so much for the carpet.

3.32 – 3.59 Repeating chorus, time for some deep rambling. An album so busy, baroque, deliberately proud in its exhibitionism must have been – even unconsciusly – at least ten years in the making. It's not a recorded performance, it's a whole baggage of musical experiences, claims and frustrations.

3.59 – 4.37: I like this Kevin Moore sod. While the cool kids puff their chests he steals the girlfriends. What begins as an undercover variation of the opening theme fragmented in a Mediterranean dance becomes the driving force that brings five musical ideas into a powerful fist. He's the heart of the Voltron©.

4.37 – 5.36: No no no no no, what the fock was that. Let's do it again ...

4.37 – 5.36 redux: I'm speechless. I lack speech. All I can do is updating the starting five for The Most Important Minutes in Guitar History team. Proceeding:

1) The minute the Davies bros took to slash through a Marshall cone with a knife.
2) The minute Jimi Hendrix took to accept the notion that human-guitar sexual intercourse was not only possible, but sometimes mandatory.
3) The minute that Violet (nče Short) Blackmore's womb quickened.
4) The minute Steve Lukather stopped giving a fock about recording room rules.
5) 4.37 to 5.36, Under a Glass Moon.

Every guitar possibility on display, yet composing a beautiful and perfectly coherent story. A fascinating hall full of doors to different futures of the instrument echoing back pleasure and amazement. The only mundane example I can come up with is the whole Kamasutra experienced at once in a minute. John Petrucci is the Kamaxeman. It's the first time in my life that a solo makes me crave to learn and to quit guitar at the same time. 

5.36 – 6.11: So how do you follow that? In the smartest way, with its nemesis. While John suspended the song (and reality and belief) forcing the band to fall in line with his delirium, Kevin retrieved all the notes and energy into an arpeggiating black hole, spitting them out in the shape of a melody which we can call a solo only including the other instruments' contributions, except the guitar. Kevin Moore is the Socialist Keyboardist.
 
6.11 – 6.21: The song desperately needed these 10 seconds in order to become a song again, after the previous onslaught. It's a concept Frank Zappa masters 100%, Dave Mustaine 6%. EDITOR NOTE: Now the author is pretending he could grasp such details when he was still masturbating watching Charlie's Angels. Actually, he still is.

6.21 – 6.48: And he sings again. It's gonna be a long journey of off-stage loneliness while the kids play, buddy.

6.48 – 7.03: And the circle closes. At gunpoint, it's the only song so far I could sing back immediately. A trick of the mind? Something more spiritual embedded in the song's mood? The ear fluid loss? EDITOR NOTE: Bosk, are you sure this was a good idea? Fock this drivel, fock Indiscipline and the Editor he rode in on.


Coming Soon (at this point a presidential term could be soon): Wait for Sleep.

Offline Elite

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #200 on: June 15, 2018, 06:13:05 PM »
This is amazing, I am honestly left speechless (might have something to do with working about 15 hours today and feeling ridiculously tired - both physically and mentally). I gotta read that thing again tomorrow morning - but it’s already tomorrow, in fact it has been for two hours. My bed is calling, I’ll soon be in there. Oh, I bet ai’m gonna sleep very well indeed.
Hey dude slow the fuck down so we can finish together at the same time.  :biggrin:
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Online Indiscipline

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #201 on: June 17, 2018, 04:25:51 AM »
I know, I know. It's an acquired taste. In the immortal words of guitar god Marty McFly: I g-guess you guys aren't ready for that yet. But your your kids are gonna love it.


07. Wait for Sleep.

Never a tile was more appropriate. This little focker of a stool ballad squeezed between progressive juggernauts managed to keep me Awake all night long. See what I've done? Pushing the envelope further, it made me fall into infinity like a scene form a memory causing inner turbulence. It's a case study train of thought which Dr. Octavarium, in his seminal essay on systematic chaos, used to call a black cloud. The silver lining is, after such a dramatic turn of events, you are able (wether you live in Budokan or in a Luna Park) to confidently self title yourself. Astonishing, really. 

Jokes aside (EDITOR NOTE: jokes aside this whole thread would consist of a title and a timestamp.), there was something in that little jewel which prevented me to liquidate it as filler or breather. Six masterpieces in it was clear the guys weren't wired like that. If it's true that some god or universe created the human mind as a way to know itself then: 1) some god or universe is seriously focked, 2) we, as human race, bear the responsabilty to make sense of a Michael Nyman meets Billy Joel focking interludio.

Long story short, I had to spin this baby half a dozen times before calling truce with my musical autism. And you wonder how I manage to function inside a sane social human contest. Hint: I focking don't.

I. 0.00 – 2.32
What: a beautiful soothing minimal piece of music and storytelling.
Where: I'm going out on a limb and say the recording studio.
Who: Kevin and James, always the bridesmaids so far.
How: sneaking away in Spyro Gira camouflage.
When: while the three beasts were distracted planning The Rush Overthrowing.
Why: focking beats me. Let's spin it again.

II. 0.00 – 2.32 It doesn't make any sense this tragic ending. Too short to let me catch a breath, too lovingly crafted to be a running time adjuster. What the fock. Again.

III. 0.00 – 2.32 In spite of the evidence there's something still missing. This is not an innocent tune. If you pick the piano insistito at the beginning and put it through a Prophet 5 you've got yourself the average score for a cult horror movie from the seventies. There's an anguish disguised as surrender screaming to be discovered. Focking again.

IV. 0.00 – 2.32 Heard some of the rumours told ... Dinner time is over at the Indiscipline Mansion and, willing or not, this treasure hunt will feature our cast of characters' invaluable contribution. I disconnect the headphones and ask for guidance from the elders.

Drumming Dad - Macca did that shit al the time. When he was tired of playing ball with the boys he went to the smoking room and came back with focking Yesterday.

Material Mom – Ooooh sweet. You finally listen to sensible music. Maybe eight hours of labour spent shitting you upon the planet weren't entirely wasted.

Boy Band Sister – Turn this on at the right time and you could even get laid. At two minutes and half it should be plenty of time.

Big Banging Bro - Hihihi. U fag.

Rikki – New entry, the Family Cat, antisocial albino furball we all believe is going to kill us in our sleep if we don't keep feeding it. We call him Rikki because A) We really don't want it to Lose That Number, B) Although completely deaf, it has a penchant for urinating in the living room's corner whenever a Steely Dan record is on. I'm sure Donald Fegan is still quoting the fact as the pinnacle of a career. Anyway, no fluids from Rikki. Again.

V. 0.00 – 2.32 Here I am inside his home, it holds the many clues to my suspicions ... I don't understand, it must hold some vital meaning. Everything in this album is too much overthought at every corner. You don't build a cathedral and just leave a hole in the wall without a reason. Tell me, Shirley, you little focking gown wearing goblin, where am I supposed to look? Please, Shirley … Wait a focking moment. Shirley! Let's grab the cover and listen to the lyrics.

Window, moon, bed, images and words (just, you know, the focking title), surreal ceiling, water (probably inside the flowers pot), cold metal frame in Shirley's hands, ashes and flames courtesy of myheartortheheartoftheworld staring at me in flames from the beginning of the focking afternoon. This is the most important song of the album, the instructions to handle it all. Let's hear it again and discover why.

VI. 0.00 – 2.32 And as I'm standing here right now, I'm finally shown what I have always known. Do you remember Disney's Beauty and the Beast? Don't pretend you don't, you fake tough guys. I do, and I certainly did in 1992 since it focking opened the year before. We can safely fock the wonderful tunes and the singing pottery because my point is elsewhere. The movie showed us an irrealistically magnificent and complex castle full of wonders. You could stroll through halls and rooms experiencing impossible sounds and sights, images and words, and you could do it for a lifetime, never ceasing to find something new or never noticed before. At the heart of the spell was a little flower under a glass … case. It held the meaning of the story, the reason for such wonders, the guidelines to enjoy beauty without losing your bearings falling into arrogance and self-indulgence.

I yelled “I got it!” and, while my parents were contemplating selling my organs on the black market and Rikki was waiting for Aja to have a well deserved piss, I knew. Coincidence I don't believe, as my childhood dreams slowly come true. You can't navigate intricate perfection without a compass made of a humble and movingly honest two minutes lullaby. Image and Words is the castle and Wait for Sleep its rose.


Coming Soon: Learning to Live (with message board rightful indifference)

Offline Mladen

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #202 on: June 17, 2018, 10:04:14 AM »
That was... transcendental.

Offline commanderbob

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #203 on: June 17, 2018, 11:04:05 AM »
Huh. I guess I've changed.

Before, I thought that this was wildly funny; now.......nothing.

The closest I can come to describing how I feel about it is: It's like my friend went out to an awesome dinner and kept calling me EVERY day for two weeks -- no, THREE weeks -- to rave about it for hours on end.

I think I'm sorta sad about this since I'm a very silly person. My loss I guess.

Makes me realize that I'm changing about DT itself. After Every DT album release day being my own personal holiday for over 20 years, I have never even bought The Astonishing. This after DT13 was the perfect album I've been waiting for since Awake came out. I hope the next one gives me that sense of wonder back.

Carry on Bro, or whatever.

Offline Elite

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #204 on: June 17, 2018, 11:12:32 AM »
I find it absolutely mind-blowingly amazing how you manage to type out such extreme incoherence and make it read like it's some sort of neo-Shakespearian novel. Outstanding!
Hey dude slow the fuck down so we can finish together at the same time.  :biggrin:
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Offline RoeDent

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #205 on: June 17, 2018, 11:22:07 AM »
Hold it now...this thing is nearly EIGHT years old?! Wowee!

Offline millahh

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #206 on: June 17, 2018, 01:15:35 PM »
I'm not sure if I should be impressed, or else deeply concerned that Indiscipline's narrative voice is unchanged over eight years.

Also, do you repeat yourself when under stress? Repeat yourself when under stress?  Repeat?
Quote from: parallax
WHEN WILL YOU ADRESS MY MONKEY ARGUMENT???? NEVER???? THAT\' WHAT I FIGURED.:lol

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #207 on: June 18, 2018, 06:12:08 AM »
It lives! Let's Q&A a bit then, because: A) I love you all, I really focking do. B) Shameless Bump, Thy Name Is Indiscipline C) Learning to Live is gonna be a bitch to pull off and the homonymous song is hard to recap too.


Mladen writes: Dear Indiscipline,

That was... transcendental.

I wish my wife told me that more often.


commanderbob writes: Dear Indiscipline,

Before, I thought that this was wildly funny; now.......nothing.

THAT's what my wife tells me.


Elite writes: Dear Indiscipline,

I find it absolutely mind-blowingly amazing how you manage to type out such extreme incoherence and make it read like it's some sort of neo-Shakespearian novel. Outstanding!

Shakespeare is in the eye of the reader. In mine mostly tears due to self-inflicted flautulence.


RoeDent writes: Dear Indiscipline,

Hold it now...this thing is nearly EIGHT years old?! Wowee!

I swear, it's the exact thing I told the woman knocking at my door carrying a child and a DNA exam injunction.


millahh writes: Dear Indiscipine,

I'm not sure if I should be impressed, or else deeply concerned that Indiscipline's narrative voice is unchanged over eight years.

Also, do you repeat yourself when under stress? Repeat yourself when under stress?  Repeat?

Deep concern is always the answer with me. Deep concern. Deep concern. Deep concern. Deep concern. Number 9 ... Number 9 ...

Online Podaar

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #208 on: June 18, 2018, 11:11:38 AM »
LHK posting on the same week Indiscipline makes his triumphant return? Coincidence? I think we should be told.
"Religion poisons everything” — Christopher Hitchens

Offline millahh

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Re: Scenes From My Memory
« Reply #209 on: June 18, 2018, 11:12:19 AM »
LHK posting on the same week Indiscipline makes his triumphant return? Coincidence? I think we should be told.

Wait what?  LHK is back????
Quote from: parallax
WHEN WILL YOU ADRESS MY MONKEY ARGUMENT???? NEVER???? THAT\' WHAT I FIGURED.:lol