0

WTF is Hamlet On?

by Adric Antfarm on March 9, 2010

 

Does anyone recall this (go down to the 4th story entitled "I Wrote What?")?

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Hamlet Au's & New World Notes latest new hire.   A person who attacked the grid and swore to walk it only as a white puff ball.

Way to hire them Hamlet.   Prok next?   Shit, I officially submit my application.  

 

Update:  Mr. Au censored my comment on the article.  I used no abusive language, I stated a fact, I was not out of line.   Bitch needs to get a clue.  Bloggers like Headburro Antfarm are stepping back from Second Life with issues he ignores (or is blissfully unaware of).

Yet.. I still love you baby.  Come back.  You can blame it all on me.  You had me at hello.  You complete me.  I can't quit you. 

Let me step back from the word censor.  Hamlet owns the site and has the right to delete comments as he sees fit.  I would not do it to him, but then again I have respect for my users (not that he does not).

6

Oscar on the Couch

by Adric Antfarm on March 8, 2010

I was touched to hear the words about our solders, sailors, marines, and airmen overseas from the winner when "Hurt Locker" won an Oscar so diametrically opposed to the idiot words of Michael Moore a few years back.  Look, I am not a war hero (of any sort), but I know the men and woman who fight overseas did not choose the battle, did not make the rules, and are not the bad guys you have been told about.   Having worn the 10th Mountain Division patch, I can tell you about a unit that is without a doubt comprised of world class professional warriors who care about civilians getting in the mix and would never mistreat a prisoner of war.  Never. 

Jumping off the soap box (and going back to that sad 5'8), Mo'Nique was the most gracious winner I've seen in years.  Very deserved award and while I was annoyed Sandra Bullock won anything (she was in Speed for fuck sake and big girl rocked), her words are something we all need to think about.

there's no race, no religion, no class system, no color, nothing, no sexual orientation that makes us better than anyone else. We are all deserving of love.

Still a shit actress, but one who has her head in the right place.

What?  What do I know about Oscars?  A lot.   I could of won one once.  Really.

Hold on, I know what you are thinking.  Yes, I was approached by a big company and sold the rights to the general story, but my (original) version is very different.

It starts with an unlikely friendship between Second Life's best blogger and the worst.  One trying to make the other better, one trying to drag the other into the gutter with cat and shoulder child stories.

One day they are hanging out (all very innocent) in the woods and the bad guy (Randy Quaid) sees them.

Well, Randy Quaid goes back to his blog and spreads rumors (all bullshit).  The good blogger shuns the bad one causing the climax (again, nothing sexual here) when he goes to his house to win his friendship back with his Barbie boom box playing "Baby" by Justin Bieber.

He has no idea however that his old friend has taken on a cadre with the lowest ratio of pious ego to skills in all of Second Life and it goes south rest fast.  Chestysucksnuts, Pillow, and even the now forgotten "I left SL..sike!" one we pretend he did not hire attack the defenseless guy and beat him into a coma.

Roll credits.

Damn, I wish I could of gotten an Oscar, but to have had Hamlet – even for a short time…. that is enough for me.   Forever. 

Goodnight sweet prince.

 

 

 

Footie note…

Thanks go out to the girl to helped me find this great little movie.

And thank you for coming back to hear what we both know is some crazy shit day after crazy day.

0

Just Walk

by Adric Antfarm on March 7, 2010

How many times have I been stuck with an asshole like this that can't take 10 drinks like everyone else…

4

Heigh Ho, Off to Work Tammy Goes

by Adric Antfarm on March 7, 2010

"You need to come home now Adric."

"No way cat, this is our mouse day.  Well, not our actual mouse day, but another we added this week."

"Your addiction with mice is disturbing."

"Says the cat that murdered a mouse one night."

"It would of killed you otherwise."

"Did you have to make such a mess?"

"Yes."

"We will be home when we feel like it Eggy."

Two hours later we were on the road after an unjust apprehension, false imprisonment, and baseless interrogation over some anonymous call to park security about a pedo with an accomplice on his shoulder.  I was sure we were screwed when the boy confessed to everything (he does not do well under pressure) including the OJ Simpson murders.  When they caught the real pervert they let us go, but made us leave the park.  That sick bastard was screaming his innocence (as was his shoulder child) the entire time, but they had that call which is pretty damn good proof of guilt I bet.

Anyway, this whole mouse addiction thing is silly and I will not even waste my time with it since it looks like I have company!  Tammy!  I have not heard from her since the letter and here she is living in my yard. 

I know why of course.  She had come to thank me for saving her from the hate mongers.

You see, last week I got a letter (yellow sticky) and a few pictures from the girl.  It looks like she found a ride from the gourmet restaurant we ate at which is great, but the poor girl appears to have been hoodwinked by the ugly hate machine.  You see, I happen to know there is no such base in Arkansas.  This can only mean one thing.  The poor girl has been tricked by a hate group to join their paramilitary end of days nut cult.   Not my Tammy.  No how.  No Way.

Under the cover of darkness, I infiltrated the "base" taking out the guards with my bare hands.  I won't get graphic, but I snapped their necks like chickens.  Then I tossed some grenades and laid down some fire with my M-4.  If there is one thing I have no patience for it is unjustified prejudice.   I mean, shit- if the guy at Arby's is unable to get your order right due to his inability to speak American, that is a basis for a little anger, but to put on some white sheet and pretend you are better than other people is just wrong.  More so given most of these fucks have a third grade education, hump their sister, and have three teeth. 

Needless to say, by the time I was done wearing their asses out with real army training like in that Bill Murray movie, they were begging me for mercy.   I know, I am one hell of a man.  It's a curse I accept.

"Hello Tammy dear.  No need to thank me."

"They discharged me from the army."

"I have some bad news for you dear, you were in something a lot worse.  Yes, even worse than Scientology."

"I was in the army.  Just not in Arkansas."

"Say what?"

"I was sure AK was the abbreviation for Arkansas so I put that in the letter."

"It's not?"

"No, and I guess it explains the weather.  I was in Alaska."

"Oh, well my bad.  That does explain a lot, there is a base there, but why the discharge."

"You attacked a bible camp in Arkansas, Adric."

"How the hell did they know it was me?"

"You recall the side of the church?"

"How the hell did they connect you to me?"

"Do you recall the other side?"

We shared a good laugh over the misunderstanding, a few beers, and three more minutes in heaven before I offered her a ride to the bus station.  She started to cry.  SHIT SHIT SHIT!  If she was going to stay, she would work for her keep (and I mean in more than 3 minute shifts).  The next morning we took a ride out to a place you can't find on Google Maps (and never will provided Sergey wants to see his nephew again).

"Tammy, this is AAF Brownwater Airfield 14a.  We accept flights that do not land at airports with US Customs officials or other assholes all up in someone's business."

"Wow.  This is pretty impressive Adric."

"And a no-bid contract"

"Okay, I would love to work here.  Do you want me to type or file things?"

"Heavens no woman, I want you to make sure the more important mission is being accomplished.  Come up with me in the control tower."

"I bet I got it Adric.  The most important mission is security and secrecy."

"Um..no.  Listen and learn.   Dark Hood 23 Alpha November, this is control.  You are cleared for landing on runway Bravo 2.  Taxi runway right for fuel, runway left for waffles.  Fresh waffles.  With complimentary syrup.  Control out.   Do you see woman?"

"I don't understand."

"Sell the waffles woman!  Sell the waffles!"

"Oh."

"Some of the flights cannot go to the serving area because they have prisoners who are a danger to America, so that red vehicle is your delivery means."

"You mean… terrorists!"

"Well, now I guess.  Some were not at first, but you keep a bitch in Gitmo for 8 years with no trial and you can bet he hates America now.  Best thing to do is just fly him to places where they can slap him around."

"So he is not a danger?"

"I don't know woman, just sell the-"

"CONTROL, DARK HOOD 23!  PRISONER IS LOOSE ON THE RUNWAY.  HE HAS A WEAPON AND LOCKED US IN THE COCKPIT.  REQUEST HELP!"

"Shit, hold on girl.  And do not turn the radar on like Eggy.  That shit is just mean.  Still have no hair on my balls."

"All better now.  Dark Hood 23, Control here.  You can pick the prisoner up in the field left of runway 15c.  His left leg below the knee should be between there and 15b.  If not collected, there is a $200 fee for leg removal.  Personal are in route to assist you with cockpit door.  They have waffle menus with them."

"Thank you so much control.  Say, do we have to report this?"

"All depends on how much you like waffles."

"Control, we will take all you have on hand. Bill the Pentagon.  Dark Hood 23 out."

"See Tammy, that is all you have to -  Tammy?  Tammy?  Where the hell is that girl.  Oh well, only one thing to do now."