User talk:MathPoet
i am mathpoet. never mind what that means. i couldn't explain it without referring to certain psychotic episodes that i think would make both of us nervous. i look forward to whatever you have to say and translating it into my own personal language that i use to communicate with beings in the other world. --MathPoet 19:30, 19 April 2007 (UTC)
Welcome
to the party! Thanks for joining the Illogicrats. As you might have guessed from our manifesto, we make up our policies as we go along. So, basically, you get to say whatever the heck you want and you'll always be right. Personally, I get my political tips from Cat Mandu. -- Hindleyite 19:39, 20 April 2007 (UTC)
OMGZARZ
- [!=Insert message here]Hi there!Out of cheese error, *redo from start*
- Wow, I do hope you're insane as me, I'm getting lonely in this here corner, with but alchemy and an aborted foetus to accompany me... yes I am realerror:4x20482
- PS: Ahahahaha! Ahahahaha!!!!! May I please eat your face?
- [End of message=!]
- PS: Ahahahaha! Ahahahaha!!!!! May I please eat your face?
- Wow, I do hope you're insane as me, I'm getting lonely in this here corner, with but alchemy and an aborted foetus to accompany me... yes I am realerror:4x20482
hello Again
Yeah i've been away for the weekend but now i'm back. i'll check out some of your pages and see. i'm int he silent penguinn's party thingy i think--Testostereich 17:34, 22 Arply 2007 (UTC)
Bewilderingly Yours truly is concerning himself of your opinion of which hearticle should be featured
Yeah, which article do you reckon should be featured? and did you like Barry Scott?
==Barry Scott is the feature article of the moment (might be last quaters featured article by the time you read this), see the front page for details. Yeah and you get one vote for each article up for feature. --Testostereich 05:49, 3 Aym 2007 (UTC)
Icicles for all!
There once was a man named MathPoet,
He had a penis and decided to grow it.
But soon he assumed
If it was not used
Then he'd either eat it or throw it!
^_^
wewt:
- insert second limerick here*
Yay! No piss for you :P
Hey Math - hows it adidiling
I read your articles with insight. Is it your illness or your experience? --Testostereich 21:29, 25 Aym 2007 (UTC)
Another Try
If you had met God,
would that make you a joke?
Perhaps that would be best
considering the flimsy soul.
Some are stronger
these days. There are always
older spirits, teachers
who came before.
If I give a feeling,
it might be lost
in some mystical language
meant to raise the dead.
We each have one more chance
to come back to ourselves
to find a way to live
without ever visiting the ocean.
Hey there
Pls note that "gay" links to "awesome". Just to let you know. :) --HelloolleH, MrMetalFLower and Testostereich, super combine, go! --File:Hmr1.JPGHelloMetalReich(sux) Bourne from the ashes of Hiroshima
Wooop
Edits by MathPoet = yay
also I registered to paradox but i won't show up on the user list... O.o
Acorn Day
Happy Acorn Day! File:Acorn.PNG
-- File:BlackholeSig.PNG<font=Impact>Eupocalith<font=Impact>Antimatter Demise Iirhai taul Nayuzir!
Keep up the good work
Your latest articles = Huzzahs are in order (is good) -- 21:34, 13 Novelniver 2007 (UTC)
- I wasnt sure if the ip was you, so i reverted it, if it was you, sorry. only trying to be helpful ;) --<css>
span.seppysig{
color:orange; text-decoration:underline; font-family:monospace; font-size:14px;
}
span.seppysig:hover .visible{
display:none;
}
span.seppysig .invisible{
display:none;
}
span.seppysig:hover .invisible {
display:inline;
} </css>Silent PenguinLeave Me Alone 10:04, 16 Novelniver 2007 (UTC)
The Flying Fairy Association
see the article here.
Women
I wish I could remember what I was going to say. Something about blood loss, because I knew a woman who was having her period? No. Something about my mother, because I finally had to tell her I'd kill her if she didn't give me the money? Something about women because I've had such miserable luck with them?
(I have a plan to save the world from humans. Unfortunately, it would seem that all the humans must be removed from the planet first.)
I'd have to tell you that I get along just fine with women, when I don't have to do away with them. Then it gets bad. You know the situation: you want to strangle them, or kick them repeatedly. They're good for having babies, and perhaps for conversation, but they're never to be trusted with your balls. Don't worry. They'll never out and out ask you for them, but you'll hand them over in time without even noticing that it happened. No one warns you of this, unless you are lucky enough with your father. He may remember his own fight against castration. I never had a chance. Afterwards, they had to be delicately let go of.
I don't hate women... much, just enough to protect myself.
Santa Claus
Saint Nicholas. He was burned at the stake during the Inquisition, surrounded by bundled up homosexuals (hence the term "faggot") who screamed in their high-pitched effeminate way. He wasn't declared a saint until the beginning of the twentieth century when he reappeared in the lobby of Macy's Department Store, where he started the tradition of taking little boys and girls on his knee (and sometimes spanking their parents in private for a nominal fee).
He gathered, in secret, several midgets and opened a special factory for them to produce children's toys for Welfare-supported families. This caught on, and the government established several such factories, releasing propaganda that the factory was at the North Pole, manned by elves. The latter was true, except for the pointy ears. But the whole Christmas thing was a capitalistic venture encouraged by the American government. Santa played along, just grateful for the (albeit short) company
His problem was that he'd never owned a cat. Or perhaps he needed a good woman but kept falling in love with lesbians. Who knows? Every year, on Christmas Eve, he went from house to house, looking for animals to fondle. This went on for years until he finally got a cat and chose to stay home. So Christmas is about owning a cat and loving lesbians, or if you're gay, being burned on a bonfire surrounded by snow. Most gays will not stand to be beatified this way these days. Sainthood isn't nearly as revered as it used to be. Nor is owning a cat. Then again, Santa is overrated, too. Oh, what the heck, screw the whole thing.
Nothing On Radar
So why not just go around killing people? Take any contemporary leader. Do they make money? One would think so. Why not make everything a game? Now, somebody has to be the adult. We think that we want to play like children, but we really want those who will set up a structure for us (or not).
We think that we want sophisticated humor. Let's face it, it's hard to be consistently clever. I have a cat and I can't always be right. I'm no politician. But we can help. We can set standards of some kind. We can do what's best for the world as well as ourselves.
It's informally called a cabal, and it doesn't really exist but let's pretend. Make believe, for the time being, that each one of us really mattered. What do we do? Throw the cat against the wall? Vote for president? Have children? We have enough of killing people. We have enough of that.
It is time. We're all grown now. Even the kids. They were born grown up. It's so easy to let things go to hell. Let's find another way to end the story.
I don't know what to do. I keep writing these pieces and they keep sucking. Who else is with me, beneath the surface of the words? So far, nothing on radar. But he had a withered hand anyway.
Tum te tuuuum!
|
You are the winner of the Writer of the Month for Jeremy 2008. I hereby present you with this trophy as a prize. You also get Phantom rights, meaning you get an extra half vote in deciding this month's award, which will be renamed Illogicopedian of the Month. |
The Door Is Gone
The door is not only closed, but gone. Or better, the demons and angels are gone. What an empty world it is.
Invitation
Accept here .
Reject here by puttin ur sig on page.
The House=
Thanks. Good Luck!
File:Eiffel Tower.jpg|2 Times| The Eiffel Tower|File:Eiffel Tower.jpg
10:34, 23 Farbleum 2008 (UTC)
Hello
Hello. I am Ragglefraggleking! You are being invited to join the new political party The Ba Jibble Party! Join if you wish if you do it would be appreciated since we are looking for members. Thank you. -- 01:04, 28 Farbleum 2008 (UTC)
hello 2
Hello MathPoet, I see you wrote some nice articles already. how are you doing? D. G. Neree 00:43, 26 Arply 2008 (UTC)
a fine mess: the beginning
This story begins with a car accident. Joe was stupid for leaving the scene - someone had been killed. But what was done was done. He was just too afraid. Could have been you or me.
It didn't take long for him to bleed to death. They didn't find his body in the car for several days, parked as it was alongside the road way out in the country. By the time they did, it was just nasty.
When Joe didn't come home the night of the accident, his wife, Susan, had called the police. They said that he had to be missing for twenty-four hours in order to warrant a search, but they also said that they'd keep their eyes open for him. She tried to calm the children, but she was already very worried. This wasn't like him at all.
Everyone who knew the officer who found the car called him Max. He approached the car cautiously. He'd driven by once and seen someone in it, but couldn't discern any movement. It was a small town, it was strange to find his friend like this. Max had known Joe all his life. They'd gone to school together, played football together, even married women from the same family. He tried to remain calm and professional as he reached for the handle of the driver's door.
The head was leaning against the window so the body fell out of the car when the door was opened and crumpled to the ground. It was covered with caked blood. There was one white feather tainted with blood that fell out on the road.
All Max could manage was, "Jesus...."
He walked back to the patrol car and radioed the station. The coroner was there in minutes together with the chief. He went right over to study the body while the chief talked with the deputy.
"I've never seen the like. Why would Joe do such a thing?" Max couldn't keep his eyes from the scene that laid before him.
"Margaret said that she saw the whole thing," the chief said. "The kid rode right out in front of Joe's car. There wasn't anything he could have done. It wasn't his fault."
A tear rolled down Max's cheek. "I've know him all my life. This isn't like him. Who would have thought?"
"I suppose he couldn't live with himself having killed a kid. He could have stayed alive for his own kids, though."
The coroner came over.
"He'd been drinking when he died. And an odd thing - we found the razorblade on the car floor. The blade had only one set of prints. One hand. No way could he have used it on both wrists. This is a clumsy murder, but it is murder."
The child had a name. His name had been Tommy. He was seven years old. He was riding his bike home from school. He darted out from between two cars and the oncoming vehicle never even saw him let alone had the chance to stop. A little bump and it was all over. The driver looked in his rear-view mirror, horrified.
Joe had driven for hours, reliving the accident over and over. He thought of offering his soul to the devil to have the thing taken back. Then he prayed to God to help him. God heard him and sent him an angel with a razor blade, who of course didn't have fingerprints. He handed the blade to Joe, then took it back and asked Joe to extend his arms for sacrifice. The angel sliced down the forearms, proud to know how to kill a man with style.
You might ask, how do I know it was an angel? Because it was me. I was an angel. I would have let Joe continue to suffer, but God was more merciful. I tried to make it look like suicide, but it was actually God being merciful. God saved Joe from suicide. This was the first of the angel killings.
It was me with the razor blade. I was hitchhiking when Joe picked me up and gave me a ride to the edge of town. After I slit his wrists, I placed a feather in his lap and got out of the car. I always wore gloves. I was the angel of death. I was being merciful. That's how it started.
IOTM
This user is a winner of the Illogicopedian of the Month award.
If you receive this message you are a past winner of Illogicopedian of the Month. It may be a bit late but you are hereby awarded the IOTM template: your badge of honour that shows you are the cream of the Illogicopedian crop. Congratulations! -- Hindleyak Converse • ?blog • Click here! 11:52, 1 Jumbly 2008 (UTC)