Author Topic: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary  (Read 4368 times)

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God

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COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« on: April 09, 2006, 08:18:18 PM »
?Where were you when I was the 15-year-old Satan that girls two years my junior threw their bobbles at?

?Regardless, for every single day of the next 29, you shall have the divine pleasure of having a chapter of my diary to read as you eat your daily oats and hay. Chronicling my recollections of infinity, this book is according to former Daily Mirror Editor Piers Morgan ?the best thing since The Bible.??

-- God

God

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #1 on: April 09, 2006, 08:20:28 PM »
BEWARE THE JHEDDARMAN HE COMES IN MANY FORMS

while reading this story spin your head a bit and do funny shapes with your nose simulating being high on skittles and please forget i said this because afterall nothing is real do we live in a comic book or what i dont know shut up huh what who said that read the story whats on your mind just something wipe what huh oh well yeah ok

JOE HAILEY AND BAILEY WENT FOR A LIL OL WALK TO THE GOOD OL WOODS AND ON THE WAY THEY THOUGHT TO THEYSELVES ONE BY ONE WE AINT NEVER GONE THIS WAY BEFORE AND YOU KNOW A THOUGHT WENT THROUGH EACH OF THEY MINDS BUT THEY DIDNT SAY NOTHING TO EACH OTHER BECAUSE THE BEAUTY OF SELF CONCIOUS SHYNESS WAS LEAPT UPON FROM A TREE IN THE WOODS A JHEDDARMAN COMES IN MANY FORMS THEY HEARD IN A WHISPER THE TREE SPANKED THEY NO GOOD PANTILINER HOLDING BUUUUUUTOCKS BUT IT MADE UH NO DISTANCE I MEAN DIFFERENCE YOU KNOW WHY CAUSE THE JHEDDARMAN WAS ALL AROUDN THEM CONFUSING AS SOMETHING YOU KNOW YEAH AND IT WENT ON AND ON AND ON BASICALLY YOU KNOW YEAH IT WENT ON AND OFF BUT NOT LONG OFF AND IN THE END WELL ACTUALLY THERE WAS NO END EVIL WHISPERS IN THE NIGHT A HEDGEHOG COULD EVEN BE THE JHEDDARMAN NO ONE COULD ESCAPE THE JHEDDARMAN ONCE THEY STEPPED IN THE WOODS AND THEY DIDNT THEY LIVED THERE FOREVER BUT STILL THEY WERE EMOTIONS BECAUSE EMOTIONS EXISTED IN HUMAN BODIES BY THE WAY I FORGOT TO MENTION A HUMAN HAS TWO LEGS AND A NOSE AND STILL THIGNS HAPPENED FOR ALL ETERNITY AND NOBODY CARED BECAUSE IT COULD OF JUST COULD OF BEEN A COMIC BOOK MADE BY ARCHIE OR MARVEL IT COULD OF BEEN THE SEA HAVING SEX WITH THE SUN YOU KNOW YEAH AND BASICALLY A BED COULDNT HOLD THE CHILDREN SO THEY WERE FORCED TO SLEEP IN THE WOODS EVERY NIGHT NOTHING MAKES SENSE NOR THE TENSE INSIDE THE JHEDDARMAN WAS ALL THE OVER THE PLACE LIKE AN ASPERGER CHILD ONE OF THE KIDS BAILEY DIDNT UNDERSTAND HE THOUGHT THEY WERE ALL IN A COMPUTER GAME AND HE HAD PROGRAMMED IT ALONG WITH ACE PORN KIND THE JHEDDARMAN BUT HANS ASPERGER FORGOT TO UPGRADE THE MEMORY AND SO PEOPELS LIVEES WERE AT RISK EMINEM WAS A GENIUS WHO WAS ALSO A TOASTER MACHINE BUT STILL ITS ALL JUST ANOTHER DAY IN THE LIFE OF THE JHEDDARMAN THE JHEDDARMAN SEES ALL HEARS ALL BES ALL AND FEARS ALL KNOWS ALL DOS ALL DOESNT ALL AND CONTRADICTS ALL BUT WHY WHO WHEN NO THAT MY FRIEND IS THE WOODS OF THE JHEDDARMAN WHERE THE END IS NEVER IN SIGHT BECAUSE THE JHEDDARMAN HAS AN AWFUL FRIGHT HE MAKES YOU FREEEZE WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO WERE STUCK HERE INSIDE A COMIC BOOK OR UH PAINTING OR UH COMPUTER GAME OR UH LIFE THAT DOESNNT EXIST INSIDE A BIG HOLE WITH NO TREES IN IT AND A WORM ON THE FLOOR TRIES TO MAKE SENSE OF THINGS BUT HE JUST FINDS OUT THAT HE CANT WELL ACTUALLY HE DOESNT FIND OUT BECAUSE HE DOESNT KNOW HIS OWN LIMITATIONS THE JHEDDARMAN DOES THOUGH THE JHEDDARMAN IS EVERYWHERE ALL THE TIME ALL AT ONE NOTHING CAN STOP THE JHEDDARMAN BUT THEN A TREE AND A ROCK AND THE GRASS AND A COMIC BOOK WOULD TELL YOU NOTHING CAN START A JHEDDARMAN EITHER

Postperson

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #2 on: April 09, 2006, 09:27:18 PM »
<plays a scratchy vinyl version of "Dreadlock Holiday" for atmosphere>

shima

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #3 on: April 09, 2006, 10:44:57 PM »
<puts on her party dress and lipstick>

Offline Merry Widow

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #4 on: April 10, 2006, 02:10:46 AM »
hallelujah, God is in the house!  :angel:


PS. dear God, am i still your "divine angel," or have i fallen from grace?  :-\

God

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #5 on: April 10, 2006, 05:20:57 PM »
by

by
the way
i
forgot to say

you
interpreted what i said
i
told you what you heard
we
understood each other in octogon mirror houses

now
i
hope
you dont mind
that i
add

by
the way
i
forgot to say

i
didnt mean
what i said

i didnt
know what to say
except what
came out

you sort of
knew that anyway

kneeling under chequered table cloths

Offline Leto729

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #6 on: April 10, 2006, 07:10:22 PM »
Welcome Comrade God.
Guardian of the Empire

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #7 on: April 11, 2006, 01:53:54 PM »
day three.

waiting for guidance, oh lord and savior.
Misunderstood.

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #8 on: April 11, 2006, 03:15:00 PM »
any particular god, or are you going for the i'm the only one angle?

God

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #9 on: April 11, 2006, 05:28:26 PM »
The Rot Movement

The Rot Movement is Born

? ? ?Ignorance is bliss, but
? ? idiocy a tragedy. Of course
? ? I do not expect these critics
? ? to understand -- the fools they
? ? are. For what have they to say
? ? in the face of originality??
? ? -- Marcus Maclean

?In the business of Rot, there are really only two things to keep in mind: we are not here to entertain the lesser readers, or indeed illustrate to any extent our originally intended morals or ideas ? because by doing so, we are committing a Rot blasphemy higher than any man can ever imagine. Secondly, we are most certainly not here to educate them of our purposes or secrets. I can?t imagine something so time-wasteful or unimaginably unintelligent. For what these readers can never realise, good friend, is that Rot is not literature at all -- rather, I declare, it is a source of misery and depression (if not isolation from creativity) that will, if used inappropriately, lead them all to madness.?
 
Two men, a woman, three children, and fourteen dogs were in a room having sex. The year was 2034, just one year after that goddamn terrorist had declared war on broom sticks and dynamite, and the same year in which some rap-guy was shot by his ex-wife -- apparently for belligerence of the extreme. Sarah Lee, one of the girls fucking, just so happened to be thinking about that exact thing; she remembered seeing the bloody face on television after school -- the old, wrinkled, overly worked-out face, which had been blown apart by a single bullet. And she also remembered the television reporter, some old dame who?d lost her money to her youngest son, speaking in a wildly excited voice. Ah. What a day that had been, the girl thought.

?I note with interest your false belief that, in some time or place long forgotten or warn out, Rot was actually invented. But do not be deceived. Rot has and always will hold a place in the heart of every reader who has ever read literature from those repulsive things we call books -- and, indeed, every man ever to live; for we do not have to recite to them our beliefs and views through paper only. What we explain is visible from all corners of the world, big and small. I admit that somewhere along the way someone actually translated the views and beliefs and visions which we express into readable pleasure ? but never -- not ever -- has a man imagined such fantasies. The mere notion is nonsensical.?
 
Some actor-guy lay asleep in his trailer, dreaming about tomorrows shoot for The Matrix No Longer Lives, Thirteen-thousand-and-ten, listening to the sounds of some long-forgotten being raped by her husband. Most people were apt to listen to that sort of thing these days, because it was much more soothing than listening to the bomb blasts outside, and the riot squads beating the Poor shitless, and the endless campaigns to vote True American?s over terrorists, who were now allowed to vote for president. In fact, he thought, it was almost better than listening to those basketball idiots beating there basketballs into rappers? heads, laughing and smiling for the cameras, taking shots for new Nike adds. But of course it wasn?t better than having sex with his daughter, thought the actor-person -- the daughter who was about to turn six. Nope, nothing was.
 
?There is also a considerable amount of controversy that we Rotist?s are merely attention-seekers: poor miserable souls who have never quite grasped the notion that fame is not the same as idiocy, and that words can, if provoked, become nonsensical or difficult in coherent terms to explain. For these critics who suggest this, I offer only one word of advice: Death. Kill the bastards. Make them rot in eternity for their own foolishness and attention-seeking. Because in their world, at least, there is no such thing as rebellion or violence -- there is no such thing as Freedom of Speech, or for that matter Negative Creativity. They cannot and never will understand that we Loyalists stand for one thing and one thing only: Freedom of Voice; Paper over Communism. And though I wish they could understand, such is their ignorance that they will never listen, follow, or believe you and I ? good criticism will come from the heart and soul only, not others. They will never understand. They will never believe. They will never follow. And the unfortunate consequent reality is they will never follow their own hearts, the fools.?

The New York City Police were on the side of the road stopping every second car randomly, administering the lethal injection to every driver who was under alcohol limit which you had to be over. Young Sarah Reeves, driving back from her sexual experience, smiled, because she had enough alcohol stashed away in the dash box to be over the limit. When she was stopped, however, the police ordered her out of the vehicle and almost at once began to rape and beat her lifeless, under the Presidents? order to destroy the lives of every goddamn female, while filming the entire experience. About two months after this, Sarah got a postcard in her mail box with the image of her naked on the side of the road, a cock in her mouth, masturbating while she was taken from behind, signed by the Terrorist Leaders who had assumed command of presidency, and who had given the vile order. At the time Sarah smiled and put the image next to the photograph of her husband, a thing of cuteness, the same man who had helped rape her.

?There is only one more thing I can mention to you, my dear friend: Do not be put off by non-believers. They were put on this earth only as Rule Followers; men and women who can do nought but the aforementioned. Such is the ignorance of their heart that they cannot understand Rebellion from Society, Rules, and any chance of a Literary Uprising ? a new generation of reading and violence. For that at least, sooner or later, they will be punished and led on to face the New Generation with shame and guilt -- but until then, I can only encourage you to keep strong. Because if we submit to their petty criticism and lack of understanding, sometime or another we ourselves -- the very founders of the Movement -- will fall to their lows. And what then shall we have to say to the generation who sparked our fury? Nothing, my dearest friend -- so keep strong, even if the situation may look hopeless; remember, if the Germans won, so can we.?

? ? ?When the world dies, only
? ? then will you White Men
? ? realise that the only tragedy
? ? of this earth was believing in
? ? what was never there.?
Elton John

God

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #10 on: April 12, 2006, 05:02:36 PM »
Hiel Gott

We spent most of Tuesday near the crematorium smoking pot and burning bodies and the like. Jabez said something amusing bout an Italian marxist friend he knew that tried to assassinate Gottlieb, but being a pacifist socialist cretin and the like, couldn't bring hisself to do the .9mm so instead ran up to the man with a butter knife and got shotted in the head by one of the general's body men. Me and the boys chuckled a little bit at this, and later that day headed into the city for a piece of action. Seeing as we was soldiers and all, a couple of teenagers almost gave us their souls for a fuck and almost died afterwards from pleasure. Me and Dr. Solomon (We call him doctor because he specializes in "medical" marijuana and opium) headed towards a market to buy some bread, but were pre-occupied by two jews fighting in the street.
 
"This man doesn't appreciate a good joke," said one of them, a chap in his mid-thirties.

"Like shit, I do. This one said something against us." spoke the other, a guy on the up-and-up. He was a well built fellow and moved bricks for us on occasion.
 
"Whatever," I muttered, shrugging, "I don't give a shit what this motherfucker said. I'm not the one you want to impress. You see fucking Adolf Hitler walking down the street, just don't say that."
 
The man looked downward, frowning. He nodded his head, and we shook hands.

I personally don't care what happens. I like jews fine, I don't see nothing wrong. Just like anyone else: if they piss me off, I'll get mad. Otherwise, it doesn't matter.
 
So me and Solomon bought some bread and wine and headed back up to the girls in the apartment. After a little action, we said our adieus and departed for the evening back to the crematorium to do some more work.
 
About 11:00 p.m., I shoved some little bastard into the oven after considerable difficulty. Jabez and Matthew had to help me.

"I can't get his goddam head in," said Jabez, the tall jokester who died the next day when a jew shot him in the head. I remember his face as he fell to the ground laughing at the little boy running up to him with the pistol. It was a memorable, yet startlingly depressing moment.

"Do we need to cut it off?" I laughed.

"Maybe," said Matt, not laughing.

We pulled the rotting corpse from the oven as Matt readed the knife he used in such situations.
 
I winced as blood flew from the lad's neck into my eye. The crunching of bone followed next as Matt slowly made his way through the neck of the body.
 
After we had thrown both pieces into the flames, we clapped each other high five and went home for the evening to sleep. Which I plan to do right now as a matter of fact

God

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #11 on: April 13, 2006, 05:02:41 PM »
Chicago

They say girls with big butts roam Chicago
And I'll tell you with my feather boa accent, "It's true"
Because, Hey, Kid I like you
I'm an eccentric rapist
But I like you

And hey kid
Baz Luhrman thinks
You could be a movie star

Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah

Hey big spenders
Don't spend your money
Instead commit crime and cheat on your honey
Hey big spenders
We're all gonna pay
For the crimes we commited
Back on independence day

Hey big spenders
Wass up?
Hey big spenders
I need a cup
To catch my semen in
So the FBI can make a check on my EYE!!!

Hey Chicago is free
The land of openess and honesty
And hey CHicage is the palce to go
So come on GO GO GO!!!!

God

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #12 on: April 14, 2006, 05:50:08 PM »
Alf and the Amazing Pile of Shit Known as America

Alf stared at the television screen, wishing he were dead. At least if I were dead, he reasoned, I wouldn't have to watch this shit.

Satisfied, he grabbed his hammer and smashed the screen. Millions of particles of glass flew everywhere in a flash of electricity. The two idiots who also happened to be present at that moment oggled at what the young rebel had just done.

"Did you just do that?" asked Joe, the Coke Addict.

"No," replied Alfred. "I didn't. It was him!" He pointed towards the statue of Dante that just happened to be sitting in a corner of the room.

The two drug addicts looked towards the statue of Dante sitting in the corner of the room and were surprised to find a statue of Dante sitting in the corner of the room, statuesque in it's pristine calmness.

"Is that Dante?" asked Joe's whore, QR322.

"Yes, it is Dante," was Alf's response

"Wow."

"Wow, indeed."

"Are you crazy?" she asked the statue.

The statue did not respond, although it did sit there statuesquely.

"Are YOU crazy?" she asked Alf.

"No, I'm not crazy. Everyone else is."

"Oh, okay."

"Hey!" Joe cried hysterically, leaping to his feet, "We're missing Batman! Turn on the tv!"

All three looked towards the tv and realized that there was no tv.

"Who fucked up the tv?" asked Joe, the Coke Addict.

"He did!" the whore pointed towards Dante.

"No I didn't" replied Alf.

God

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #13 on: April 15, 2006, 06:37:53 PM »
Stories are published. This particular one was published on March 23rd, 2003

"Take a seat Mr.Dict."

"Thanks. I don't like you by the way."

"Oh. Right. Well that's okay."

"Nothing's okay. There are too many civil rights these days."

"Uh. Anyway. What sort of job are you looking for?"

"I'll do any job. I am too much of a genius to work."

"Hmm. I see. Perhaps you would like to consider working as a cleaner in McDonalds?"

"Suits me. I hate McDonalds, it's full of happy kids who are making a future for themselves."

"Well, then. Now that, that's, erm, sorted. I have a busy schedule so you'd best get going now."

"Go on, I know your desperate to ask. Don't use words to ask your question."

"Alright, then. You got me. I am desperate to know. Why does everything you say come in sentences of two? And, uh, why does it seem every second sentence you say sounds completely out of character in relation to the first?"

"Because I never mean the second sentence I say since I like to contradict myself. Don't listen to the sentence I said prior to this one because I hate it when people understand what you say, and I hate it when people anaylze their lives and consider every solution to every problem."

"Hmm. Very. Interesting. So that must be why your called Mr.Dict. Because it's short for Contradict. That's very clever you know. However I'm sure some would argue it's a lame attempt at being a genius. I mean, Einstein was a genius but not because he contradicted himself but because he actually did something with his life and devoted his time to actually solving a problem instead of just considering the ways in which to solve it. You stupid idiot. Get out of my goddamn sight."

"I hate life, I was never good at doing things. I admire you a lot because you are part of a new generation that has a higher plane of thinking."
« Last Edit: April 16, 2006, 12:44:45 PM by God »

God

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Re: COME AGAIN: 29 Daily Instalments of God?s Diary
« Reply #14 on: April 16, 2006, 05:17:14 PM »
Mr. Plague

a young boy. Cameron. It was nothing more than a hamlet, a village. sinking slowly into the swamp.

His mother's body was covered in dark splotches. She tore out her own eyes when God spoke to her in a dream/nightmare. "True repentence, mine childe," the Lord had spoke, "-the utmost physical pain is the only way thou will attain Heaven."

He looked around at the other villagers. harry the idiot lay in a pile of cow feces behind Sire Galdere's barn, dead, slashing constantly his back till the very end.

An old lady threw herself out of a three-story window and broke all the bones in her body on the hard-packed dirt road.

"H-help...me," she muttered to Cameron, who looked on in utter neutrality. "Kill..." She died.

The boy entered the town tavern where his friend Bert sat huddled beneath an oaken table clutching a knife, shaking visibly.

"Bert?" he said.

"Cammm Cammm cameron." Bert whispered. "god is killing us all, Cameron. You have to save us, Cameron."

Bert had the spots all up his back and stomach, swelling eveywhere. hard to look at.

"We must go see if anyone else is still alive," said Cameron. His friend shook his head.

Lester, a man who sold furniture, walked through the town looking for his dog. His dog lay dead in his arms.

"Gideon! Gideon!!" he shouted. Cameron could see a large black spot on the back of his neck. "Cameron, have you seen Gideon?"

Cameron looked at Gideon. He shook his head.

Lester sighed and trudged off. Cameron looked through windows and saw a women with a knife removing her clitoris. a dead boy covered in maggots and flies. a dead little girl he knew from church, bleeding from the eyes. a man. a dog. a horse. dead. dead. dead.

Cameron sighed and went home. He curled up in the arms of his dead mother and cried.