Thoughtlets: Far Spawn Half-Fiend Analogs

From here

In that case, for what you describe, some terrible analogue of Wilbur Whateley sounds like just the ticket; an unsettling but seemingly human figure who's always completely terrifying when spotted out of the corner of your eye, one whose abominable nature is nearly completely hidden by reality most of the time as though the safe and recognizable was taped over it like wrapping paper... but you can see the seams... and the tape... and the bulges.

You might call it an ectoperan or xenoperan, an ectoxene or edoxene or edoperan. All carry connotations of the outside, the foreign and that which is beyond.

Ectoxene Template

Thoughtlets: Hands of Christ

From Jim Roberts on Slacktivist:

Someone on my Facebook shared this stupid meme about how if you leave Christianity because of the way Christians act, then you never believed in God at all. My response is that we are, as the body of Christ, His hands and His feet. If we spend our time kicking and punching people, then doesn't it make sense that people flinch from God afterward?

Thoughtlets: Florida is America's Penis

Sure, fun things can happen down there and it serves a useful purpose, but it's embarrassingly prone to being stimulated by inappropriate stimuli and gets weird fast if you just stare at it.

Thoughtlets: Immortality

From Here

Human beings are often critical of immortality, based on a fear that they will eventually use up all the things to do and become eternally bored.

This is of course tremendously small-minded, as the vast infinity of the universe contains an abundance of delights, distractions and debauched enterprises. So many so that after a few thousand years of indulgence, any self-respecting immortal should have built up more than enough rose-tinted (if somewhat sticky) memories to entertain them through any degree of rainy day.

However, since many immortal humans--being humans--are likely to persist in making grand statements about the terrible burden of immortality, the solution is quite simple. Anyone who is actually bored with immortality can safely be allowed to die.

Anyone left who keeps making a fuss about it can be safely dismissed of a bit of a whiny poser who (let's hoping) will probably grow out of it in a millennium or three.

ULW Fuck'd Up Friday 16, 1/15/16, Claudia RP 1 of 1

"...and four days later employees showed up outside the Carnivalue in the morning and found Ethan James crucified on a light pole in the parking lot, near the front doors. Stenciled on the pavement in what was probably red paint were the words "complaint addressed by corporate."

It's always nice to hear about companies going the extra mile to deal with customer complaints. Miss Kajara may be a newcomer to our community, but it's good to see that she's hopping right into the good ol' Wyrdtown way of doing things.

A note has just materialized here on my desk, and judging from the smell of brimstone and the scratching of ancient glyphs it's fresh from the talons of the Grand Brilliance of the Illuminated Brotherhood stating that though there is a rogue presence of light currently hovering slowly down Grand Avenue, it is in no way, shape, or form affiliated with our favorite band of wacky, menacing, hooded figures who have invited fallen angels to dwell within their hearts.

Citizens are advised to not look into the light, as looking into the light may cause symptoms just as temporary loss of vision, spotted vision, nausea as if by flashing lights, dizziness, permanent loss of vision, the immediate liquefaction of the eyeballs, spontaneous involuntary eye-gouging, and blindness followed by a complete and utter disassociation with the visual sense.

Several tourists were taken to Plagius Memorial after not only being blinded, but having forgotten that they had eyes in the first place, as well as the entire concept of vision. So please, dear listeners. Do not look at the light. Do not go into the light. Do not approach the light. The light burns. The light hates. The light consumes. The light devours. The light. The light. The light. The light. The light.

And now a word from our sponsor…" -WYRD Radio


Uh, so Kal, this is kind of weird for me. I can't actually find you. Attempting to do my usual discorporate into energy and hop right to you thing is not working. Every time I try it, I end up with your minion.

I know you're still there, I can feel you. But for the first time since you fell out of that speckled blue egg of yours, I don't actually hear you. And what's worse is that I'm pretty sure you can't hear me.

For the first time in thirty years I don't have an audience for my stream of consciousness snark, humor, and commentary on life. I don't have your life to commentate on and it's driving me nuts!

It's just not right with Claudia. I'm not sure what went wrong with the whole ritual thing, but she got blasted with enough of my personality to the point where she's making my jokes and quoting my memes before I do half the time!

I'm not sure where you are, what you're doing, and when you're coming back. But you're coming back, so I'm going to be taking notes about stuff that happened while you were gone, so you can get fully caught up when you come back, okay?

So let's start with the minion. You've had me watching Claudia for the past few months just to make sure that she doesn't get into trouble. Well, TECHNICALLY you asked me to make sure she didn't gruesomely devour anyone important. Same thing, really.