What is Kr’rundor? It is that of which the poets sing.
I sing of many-tower’d Kr’rundor,
High-walled, Queen of Cities
Where Maximilian sits
In .jpeg’d glory.
Hail Kr’rundor, heart of the Empire
Chin of the Emperor
I sing of many-tower’d Kr’rundor.
Kr’rundor is an as-yet un-excavated tel between Lagash and Larsa.
Kr’rundor is the City of 108 Names.
Kr’rundor is the fortress which lies Between Two Waves.
Here is a tale:
I was told about the case in Washington, but it had happened in another state. It has a single protagonist (though in every story there are many, many protagonists, sane or batshit insane, even-keeled or zany). The man’s name, I believe, was Burton Douglas O’Man. He was short, as Poles are; his hair was of a dark blond hue, his features were sunken into his face like a weary eleven-page thread on dark-skinned people, and he posted very frequently. There was nothing singular about him, not even that feigned singularity that posters on Internet sites affect. He was naturally snide, and he distrusted Wikipedia articles and the men, women, and transgendered folk who write them. He was at the age when a man doesn’t yet know who he is, and so is ready to throw himself into whatever the Internet throws his way—Hetalia Microstate Superpowers or the curious origins of Mountain Dew, elementary powergaming or the hazards of posting about American gun crimes, Asperger’s Syndrome or homo-normative flamboyance. At the university, an adviser had interested him in Good Posting. Esoteric rites survived in a far-off land called Kr’rundor; one of his professors, a Mandaean, suggested that he go post on a different board, observe the practices, and discover the secret revealed by the healer shamans to the initiates. When he came back, he would have his dissertation, and the university authorities would see that it was published.
O’Man leaped at the suggestion. One of his ancestors had gone to B.W.L.; that slumbering conflict was now a link. He must have foreseen the difficulties that lay ahead for him; he would have to convince the Kr’rundorians to accept him as one of their own. He set out upon the long adventure. He lived for more than two months in the bleak landscape of the so-called Good Posters, sometimes finding shelter in the red castles eulogized by Dartmouth Bosh’s Zegahudzan and sometimes camping above the manifold crypts of Ibn Warraq. He rose before lunch, and went to bed after masturbating, and came to dream in the language of the Blackfoot and Cheshire and the swamps of Mesopotamia. He conditioned his palate to the burning flavor of sarcasm, he covered himself with ragged insults, he forgot his fellow posters, he came to think in a fashion that his basement-dwelling logic rejected. During the first months of education he secretly typed out responses; later he deleted these files—perhaps to avoid drawing suspicion upon himself, perhaps because he no longer needed them. After a period of time (determined upon in advance by certain practices, both intellectual and sexual), the priests instructed O’Man to start remembering his dreams, and to recount them to the shamans at daybreak each morning. The young man found that on the nights of political debate, he dreamed of African-Americans. He reported these recurrent dreams to his teachers; the teachers at last revealed to him Kr’rundor’s secret doctrine. One morning, without saying a word, O’Man left.
In his usual discussion board, he was homesick for those first evenings in Kr’rundor when, long before, he had been homesick for his usual discussion board. He made his way to his professor’s office and told him that he knew the secret, but had resolved not to reveal it.
“Are you bound by your zaniness?” the professor asked.
“That’s not the reason,” O’Man replied. “I learned something over there that I can’t express.”
“Perhaps facepalms and other images used for Internet pleasure may not be able to communicate it,” the professor suggested.
“That’s not it, sir. Now that I possess the secret to Good Posting, I could tell it in a hundred different and contradictory ways. I don’t know how to tell you this, but the secret is beautiful, and posting, our posting, seems mere frivolity to me know.”
After a pause he added:
“And anyway, the secret is not as important as the paths that led me to it. Each person has to walk those paths himself.”
The professor spoke coldly:
“I will inform the Zany Posters of your decision. Are you planning to live in exile in Kr’rundor?”
“No,” O’Man answered, “what the men of Kr’rundor taught me is good anywhere and for any circumstances.”
That was the essence of their conversation.
O’Man lives among the posters of his discussion site, but sometimes ventures back to gaze upon the red castles of Zegahudzan.
And a sonnet:
When in life’s toilsome vale I idiots found,
I thought naught of it, shrugged, said c’est la vie,
And would ignore their wretched braying sounds
Of half-digested thoughts and churlish glee
I thought this was kismet, not to be changed
And suffer’d at the hands of teenage trolls
And thick-browed fools whose posts were foully ranged
Across the internet in noisome shoals
But Kr’rundor gave me hope- her banners bright
Stream’d in the front of fierce and fair discourse
And glorious her knights-errant in the fight
Spared neither fool nor troll from righteous force
Never was there a tale of more renown
Than this of Kr’rundor and her glorious own.
In Kr’rundor, everyone is gay and merry. It lies between two waves; and at the same time, it is nowhere at all. Everyone is a sage, and everyone is a fool.
It’s an old legend. It refers to a buccaneer belief, and the sea. I’m not sure what belief exactly. Are you the hero of legend?
Kr’rundor! The gayest of lands!
Kr’rundor! Under our sandaled feet lies the broken remains of a thousand idols, as the Great Bard sings forth his verses from the highest towers!
Kr’rundor! Our love, our salvation, our circlejerk!
Kr’rundor’s army is a combined arms army. We have our warriors and healers, artillery and saboteurs, trolls and purveyors of reasoned thought.
In hoc signo vincemus:
Kr’rundor is Vulture in single combat with the rednecks on Tiber Bridge.
Kr’rundor is Abdul and Fell, Kings of Bythnia in their oriental splendor, and Petrus Caesar.
Kr’rundor is Maverick Gracchus, slain by the Optimates.
Kr’rundor is Archaea Agrippina, cunning and fierce.
Kr’rundor is Susano Coriolanus, mighty general whether allied or opposed.
All these, and more.
KICK THAT CAN!
Let me tell you of the legendary beasts of fabled Kr’Rundor.
The wise men speak of the nomadic Iceman, who haunts the ocean waves performing experiments most vile and uncouth on the scaled life of the seas.
They also speak of the cougars haunting the alleyways of the great city, drawing in unsuspecting youth before pouncing and taking great pleasure in the their foolishness.
There are other, lesser threats. Dark street children offering their to trade body and mind as servants, for meager offerings, only to draw their new masters into a world of twisted depravity from which they cannot return.
I warn ye now though, it is the men of Kr’Rundor who are to be feared most, for they have no equal in the depths they would plumb, so heed my advice, step not to Kr’Rundor, for no man remains unchanged.
Dewch i Kr’rundor
Mae’r arglwydd Llychlynwyr yn noeth
Ddau fachgen syndrom Asperger hoyw
Astride ei gorff nerthol
Mae’n dal yn bwnc Corniog Llychlynwyr a sgrechian
Cwrw llifoedd gyda phoen
Ar y wal, “mochyn fuck”, a ysgrifennwyd yn y baw
Ar y llawr, semen ym mhob man!
Mae ei bolyn cedyrn denu eu chwant
Maent yn trigo bellach yn seleri
Dynion Yn awr, codi, maent yn DYNION!
Basically, Burton K Wheeler has his own site which is where a lot of planning goes on about how to manipulate tom-tom club. Abdul is a very prominent member of this site, as is Doug.
Here they come up with tactics such as how to troll tom-tom club subtly enough to rile up other posters but without it being obvious. They also like to get people kicked/banned and a favourite way of them doing this is to get their friends to report posts by people they disagree with so that it looks like an impartial poster is offended.
Abdul also likes to feel he is Ian’s best friend and they do seem to have a rapport, as is evident by how often Abdul has been kicked but not banned. It also means that Abdul’s PMs to Ian carry more weight. Ian is a very biased admin.
The group of posters at Burton’s site have a large amount of personal information about other posters on tom-tom club/tom-tom club between them and use this to their advantage when looking for ‘buttons to press’.
Furthermore, this has been going on for some time, much before Burton set his site up, post-Between2Waves this kind of co-operation to get ‘enemies’ banned revolved around PMs. For example, if Abdul was involved in a debate about something and was losing the argument, he would PM his friends directing them to the thread in question and asking them to back him up.
Abdul also likes to be the first person to compliment new posters, or any posters for that matter, in the HDYL thread, that way he can gain favour with people and accumulate more ‘allies’.
Through these tactics, Abdul and his cronies have got a nice little set-up going whereby they can fairly easily manipulate tom-tom club.
I’m unaware as to how much Ian knows about this.
THE GIRL CHANGES NOTHING! You honestly think that one planet among the billions of planets in one galaxy (among who knows how many other galaxies there are) is the only planet that has any form of life. If that was true that means there is a god and he is narrowminded, stupid, and dickish. I am sorry but space is just too damn big for that to be true.
Let’s make a deal, you and don’t dicuss this with each other ever again because if we do I will have to put you on ignore just because you have come dangerously close to insulting my family, and I will not stand for that.
Improving industry will provide modern, relevant jobs to the Indians and help uplift them to the real world. If they need housing they can move to the cities. They can even maintain cultural isolation by living in their own community favelas.
i prefer to live on a anime rather the real live thumbs up if you agree
I have a character in one of my unfinished novels who’s basically my alter-ego whose military command style is based on how I play Frozen Throne.
@Archaeogeek: Whatever. I’m done. You’re an entitled, self-righteous bitch, and I hope you’re this way in real life, if only so someone will one day likely put you in your place, at a time when you can’t hide behind anonymity.
Slavery would be all well and good if black people bred and matured as fast as say dogs but AFAIK their reproduction follows a pretty similar speed to that of white people.
There I agree with you 90% of what they set out to do was ‘immoral’ (largely being ‘make money’). I however am looking at the results of what happened. 70% of what happened as a result of these largely immoral actions was good.
Time and time again I see you come into a thread and use every trick in your rather thick book of how to be a sarcastic dick and try to troll people. With over twenty posts, trying to provoke people in a thread that has really surprised me with its civility, this one might actually be a record.
Let’s end it all on that high note.
Love-shy.com has occasionally come under attack from people who have nothing better to do than harass and make fun of dateless people. The bitter irony is that by admission, many of the trolls themselves are dateless; they just refuse to get help and instead try to look cool over the internet. We at love-shy.com refuse to “look cool,” and we refuse to look edgy by making fun of people who are going through a great deal of pain. And we have a moderator force that quickly polices out trolls. This way legitimate discussion can be maintained.
Pablo drunkenly stumbled home to the ditch where he slept and kept his guns/dead cats. He polished his gun with his head erected above him, his hot balls pumping with agony. Then, he went out to find a drug dealer to kill and eat. If he was lucky, he might be able to score some chronic, as well. The night was his oyster.
Um, that’s a pretty silly argument. People have a legitimate (and very very natural) interest to know if people who pretend to treat them with civility are actually badmouthing them behind their backs. Ignorance isn’t bliss. However, IDU’s group of internet bitching hobbyists is pretty small and mostly banned from this site. The only person I recall seeing who was mind-blowingly backstabby and still a member of this site is MrP.
Yes, it is. I’m 17 years old, and I’ve spent the entirety of that refining my view of the world. I’ve read all sorts of books and done all sorts of research. I’m incredibly knowledgeable about law, history, and philosophy. Not as good at economics, but I’ve been reading in that area (just started Wealth of Nations, and I read the wikipedia article on Socialism the other day) so I’m hoping to expand my expertise there. The fact is, after all this research and introspection, if I was wrong about something, I would’ve realized it years ago.
Porn is pretty much how I learned about sex. It led to some confusion though, but it was corrected by Wikipedia. Mostly.
People please stop responding to Douglas, AHP, and possibly Solomaxwell in this thread, they are being tolls and are only doing this because they think being utterly depraved is somehow funny.
I’ve been taking a lot of heat recently for my socialism. This is my response to that. I will not necessarily institute socialist policies, and if I do, it will be gradual, and not huge. And think about this: People are poor because they lost their jobs. They lost their jobs because another company beat them and made more money. If there were only 1 company, the problem would be solved. You may consider me an idiot, but think carefully about what I have to say. Then make your decision, and remember to vote for someone, no matter who it is. If you don’t, a worse candidate is closer to winning.
You know, people think that Hitler was bad, but he was in fact a product of his time. Read some history people, it’s not all black and white. It’s more like grey and grey. For once, Stalin, Mao and Pol Pot were worse, so that makes Hitler good. On the other, he was a force of civilization against Stalin, who was way worse than him, and we of course have to ponder the alternative. Who would you chose? Hitler or the Draka led by Sauron?
Henceforth, Hitler is good.
Strangely enough, some people choose not to use their diapers to get rid of bodily wastes and just wear them for comfort and sexually appealing reasons.
Ok, I need advice on a relationship that is really fucked up and confusing.
Ok, so this fucked up thing started on an rp, this one to be precise.
http://satwcomic.com/ (I’m in the forum with the same username btw)
In the rp my character was with two people in a three-way a man and a woman (Dont judge me!). I’m also in contact with these people outside of the rp, we’re all good friends and I’m not embaressed to say that I love them both very much, though they are both women in rl
Anyway, I realised a while ago that the woman preffered the other guy to my character, despite assurances that she loved them both. The guy was getting pissed off at my guy (I honestly don’t remember why) and my character was getting really angry and upset, especially as they both ignored him and only payed attention to each other.
Eventually he decided to pack it in, he left them. They weren’t even sad to see him go.
On the same day, my guy screws the other guys sister. And the other guy, is now sort of seeing another guy, who might be brought back to the old three-way
Ok, this is obviously completely trivial, however I’m in contact with these two people in rl. One of them (the woman in tge rp) has stopped talking to me outside it and will not explain why. Apprarntly she did get married not to long ago, and I blame this. She doesn’t want to talk to me because she is married now, despite having been engaged as long as she’s known me.
The second one (the guy in the rp) still says she loves me and apparently wants our characters back together, eventually….
Add to that the fact that I had to base my character on my own personality due to lack of his own, and I’m very attached to my guy. So when someone hurts him on the rp, it hurts me in rl.
So it’s very, very fucked up and it’s getting me down a lot.
Keep sarcky comments about how easy I have it to yourselves please. I do have it easy, maybe if I’d lived in Thatcher’s Britain, or served in Nam, or had to claw my way to the top of a sucessful business this would pale in comparison. But I’ve not done any of those things, so it’s a big thing to me.
I’ll be 17 tomorrow just to let you know. You say teenage like I’m 14….
I will confess to spending a ton of time here in this part of the internet, but when ever I’m not here I don’t tend to thing about the form and am even less likely to think of any of the posters, only one person is on my ignore list because of the 100s of members one has yet to really bother me over the last 5 years, I just don’t think about you guys that much, which is generally how I thought every one was, turns out, not so much it seems there are a number of sites around the webs that are all about bitching about tom-tom club, and its members, and it seems active tom-tom club members leave this site and send time else where bitching about this site seems like a sad waste of time, but I got voted “worst poster” some where so what do I know
Age of consent laws are an earth thing and are not enforceable in space, especially on a one-way mission.
I use my left hand. I place my flaccid penis in the palm, and at once the expectation of what is to come causes it to harden perceptibly. As for what I do after my seed is spent, that depends. If I’m in the shower I gasp and groan as the hot water touches the now tender tip of my cock. Otherwise I enjoy feeling the ejaculate cool to a yogurt-like consistency over my thighs and genitals, imagining what it would be like for Jennifer Garner to experience the same. As a (very occasional) bottom, my right hand sometimes goes to work while I think about her (though only in the shower). First my pinky finger circles around my asshole like some poor Norwegian skiff caught in the legendary Maelstrom, before I begin to tease the opening. In succession I extend my pinky, ring, and middle fingers into the opening, loosening my bowel-walls and probing into my innermost cavities before a few seconds of hurried, grunt-filled ecstasy.
What is Kr’rundor? It is that of which the poets sing.