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| Xeogaming Forums - - Posts by Stitch |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie!          Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| That's because Erk and I was one-sided intellectual debate (my side being the intellectual). With Geo, it's mostly bigotry-driven rebuttal on his part, and pure bitterness, thirst for beating someone with a keyboard to death retorts. | |||
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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OKAY DALE!! WE'LL CALL YOU SAJIN FROM NOW ON.I guess I'm cool. I don't know. If you catch me on a day when I'm not to pissed off or bitter, I'm fun to talk to on AIM...or so I've been told. |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| Yeah, lately it hasn't been fun to piss me off anymore. I tend to get just a bit too (online) violent. Nothing so much on the physical side. That energy is always transferred into my driving (aggressive), playing sports (tennis...really aggressive), or video games (almost breaking controllers). Then, there's watching Whitey do his doggy things. That's always fun.
However, I still have to find a Google-branded keyboard. I'm sure such a thing exists at least at their headquarters. |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| Um, the building imploded, collapsing on the way down, and expelled a lot of debris cloud as it collapsed. By the very definition of the word, exploded means outwards. I think someone needs to hit these people with a Google-branded keyboard.
A few things do arise, but due to my involvement with certain agencies, I can't really divulge anything I do or do not know. I like to keep my freedom. Rather than concentrating on what happened at the Towers, why not concentrate on something less accessible to the general public--the Pentagon. Airplanes, upon impact, hardly ever fully disintegrate. They don't disappear. They leave debris fields. They leave damage on the ground. Missiles on the other hand... Well, you watch. Along with these photo observations: 
We are talking about a 269,434 lb plane, hitting the pentagon wall at around 400 MPH at a high of about 2 to 20 feet off the ground. With no debris field. And no sonic boom. And no damage to the ground. And, where are the wings? So, what did happen to flight 77. Was there even a flight 77 to begin with, or was this flight "created" specifically for these tasks? Are there fake flights all over the country specifically created for cover-up purposes? 
It seems odd that a 747 could cause so little damage, and leave no markings of its debris field. Where are the wings? And what happened to the passengers onboard? In a satellite image of the Pentagon, since removed and replaced on the Microsoft Terraserver, four days before the impact, a vague line of flight can be seen etched into the grass on the front lawn of the Pentagon. That line of flight is still visible in another photograph, but immediately after the impact, the line of flight was covered up by rescue vehicles, and later, construction equipped, dirt, and rocks. Could this had been set up on purpose? Were there people in that section of the Pentagon that just had to be disposed of? 
For comparison: 
An apartment building in Amsterdam taken out by a 747. Big hole, don't you think? The Pentagon on Sept. 15: 
Why would a plane crash create such perfect punch-out holes in the inner ring walls of the Pentagon? 
In this image, you'll notice that the surrounding debris is being pushed away from the hole rather than in towards it. For comparison, the Towers impact: 
Take a look at this hole and notice that the I beams are gone, they are not there at all! Thus why then are the beems still there in the Pentagon Crash. The WTC was designed to take a hit from a 747 and yet the beams are gone! Thus it does support that a small aircraft or missile hit the Pentagon and not a AA 757. Possibility of a missile made to look like an American Airlines jet? 
(Last edited by Zabuza on 03-28-06 06:09 PM) |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| No, I'd prefer the knowledge and satisfaction of hunting you down to beat the crap out of you with a Google-branded computer keyboard.
Google Keyboard of Doom +10 damage: 
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| [Edited for company security and non-disclosure agreement purposes] (Last edited by Zabuza on 04-07-06 06:23 PM) |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| This isn't new. I've seen all of them. Way back when dial-up was the only form of consumer internet that existed. | |||
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| I was focusing on the lax misinformation of basic physics in cover-ups. This would work so much better if the cover-up people just worked a little harder on the physics of things. At least stage something that's believable. Hell, I can come up with believable cover-ups to my things than a whole team of cover-up agents in Washington.
I could care less about the war. I don't care about Bush. I just wanna know what hit the Pentagon. That's all. |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| South Park Reloaded:
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| I tend to protect myself to an extent. Information is out there. It's just a matter of finding it. Any information that I do or do not know is left to the confines of my brain or wherever it is. Why does my room smell like almonds? Ah, cyanide...oh, wait, almonds. Okay.
But, you're well-founded in being afraid to ask me. It's best that it stays that way. |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| Newgrounds should change their name to oldandmoldy. They just don't archive anything new anymore. It's all the good old stuff that you watch when you're bored of the new stuff to remind you why you were looking for new stuff in the first place. | |||
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| If I had the money, I'd have the Charley Real Doll. Built, and never says no to sex. | |||
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| Edited for Content
(Last edited by Zabuza on 04-28-06 04:55 AM) |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| [Edited for company security and non-disclosure agreement purposes]
(Last edited by Zabuza on 04-28-06 04:55 AM) |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| Yeah, but these aren't just the average, run of the mill, plastic polyurethane sex doll you can pick up at any store. These are state-of-the-art, silicone based, fully poseable, lifesize $10000 to $15000 sexually pleasure dolls. And, I'd still want Charley, dammit. Although, I'd have to have at least $50000 in disposible income just to justify my purchase. And, just think, you can use them for carpool! They're so lifelike, and my clothes fit on him! | |||
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| Yes, I do mind. And, no, you're not getting anything I do or do not know. My information, regardless of whether or not I know it, is strictly confidential if, in fact, it exists. What I presented before was strickly stipulation on the basis of observation and interpretation. Whether or not I actually believe it will not be divulged on this board. | |||
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| Ha ha! Four people think you're a tard.
I did interpretive dance in the shower yesterday. Does that count? |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| Even if you don't understand, it's still funny to watch:
[Edited for company security and non-disclosure agreement purposes] (Last edited by Zabuza on 04-07-06 06:24 PM) |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| I love this band for some reason or other, and found them dancing in their backyard:
Their website: okgo.net. (Last edited by Zabuza on 03-31-06 09:31 AM) |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 946 days Last activity: 946 days |
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| This is not a story. The following is my current journal entry, written in a brief moment of (in)sanity at hearing a noise...among other things. It doesn't really belong in Story Realm (since it's not), but is more of a glimpse into the world that lives within me. My slight schizophrenia, paranoia, and genius muddles together to produce this:
Today, while driving in the land of lost, a moment of ultra-clear lucidity hit and I was transported into another realm. I "returned" several minutes later to discover that I was not lost somewhere in the maze of streets of East Los Angeles, but sitting in the parking structure at EA Mobile. Almost Matrix-esque in nature, but unlike the astral realm, a brief flash of light in the rearview mirror opened a portal in front of me. Everything around me disappeared, slowly at first, into a single bright spot in front of me. I was left standing, I suppose, in an abyss of the concept of nothingness. There was no sound, no atmosphere, no sight, but it was filled with nothing. The spot erased--vanished as quickly as it had appeared--and I was left feeling absolutely nothing. In the distant absence of the speed of darkness, a figure appeared, flowing gingerly towards me. He bore a striking resemblance to an entity I had once known. His flowing appendages chillingly pierced through my body, wrenching through my inner being, destroying what little vision of everything existed within me. I received a single message from the moment, in a language I cannot comprehend, "hzecj tykiz foL wuztilrre aIolmk, kilsU?" Is it code? What does it mean? I stepped out of my car, being an hour late for work because of my adventure in East LA, walking down the lobby to the service elevator. My reflection in the lobby mirrors appearing drastically distorted, moreso than usual. Life rendered ever so slowly before me, but it didn't matter. I knew what lay ahead despite its lack of rendering at the normal speed of life. It was as if the world within lacked the resources and memory access to create the land around me. The fifth floor was slow to render, showing partial constructions of the security locked door, the walls within the cubicle area, my computer. Coworkers walked past me, a myriad of internal organs chirping away at nothing, the skin slowing appearing and covering their exposed internals. Was the computer of life disappearing? Had some idiot installed Windows, and it was hogging resources and disintegrating life around me? Was I just about to be rebooted to clear the RAM? I sat, at my station, staring at my phone with its Tetris running. Lunch time, thirty minutes later, I'm standing at the soda machine. I don't remember setting down the phone. I don't remember walking there. I don't remember acquiring the 25 cents needed for the machine. After depositing the change and retrieving my ice-cold Cactus Cooler, I step out of the kitchen into cubicle land realizing that the area beyond that is missing and has been replaced by a giant white plane. I turn around, and the plane has engulfed everything. A bright light flashes again, and I am sitting at my computer typing up a bug I found, the Nokia sitting in front of me, beyond the keyboard a cup of tea steams. And, the post-it that had the phone app specs on it now reads, "Vista will crash planet." I blink, and it's gone. My lead walks over and asks me something. I stare at him blankly, and he motions if I had enough sleep. I nod my head and continue staring. Words leave my mouth but I can't hear them or make sense of them. He nods and walks back to his computer. Tetris is all I hear. Is the world running on Vista, and has its generated populace finally caught up? Will the development of the universe's operating system by the very beings that it automates finally cause a paradoxian crash that will cause everything to cease? And, if so, who will hit the Ctrl+Alt+Delete sequence that will reset us? It reminds me of a concept that I laugh at everytime I see it. The introduction for the Sims 2 features sims playing the sims playing the sims playing the sims playing the sims, ending on a couple of sims making out while their game of the sims plays on a TV. Within the game, your sim can play the Sims 2 on any videogame or computer. Which begs the question? Are we just ourselves being controlled by ourselves on another plane? Was I "told" by some drop down menu to sit at this computer and "blog" to raise my charisma points? Have I seen the fabric of life, and in turn by sharing it, have caused a further degredation? Or, is this just another one of my lucid visions set in for the purpose of whatever splendor my brain is dumping as "unable to process" junk? Computers are advancing to the point that objects render so much quickly than ever before. But, to what do we compare these renderings? I believe the fastest anything can render is the human eye and the powerful brain behind it. Think about it. The eye renders anything faster than we could possibly think. It, in conjunction with the brain, reproduces images faster than the best image handling computer out there. As I type, I hear a scratching sound coming from what sounds like beneath my desk or inside the wall. I am thinking that it is a mouse, however, the scratching only appears as I type and is quite intermittent. I am sitting perfectly still, the only motion coming from my chest (breathing) and hands. When I stop typing the noise stops. I can sit perfectly still, doing nothing more than breathing and hear nothing more than the hum of the refrigerator and the low rumble of the far-off freeway. The scratching stops. It restarts when I start typing. It's driving me sane (I'm already insane). Why does the scratching (it sounds like a marble rolling on a wooden desk, or being tapped on a wooden desk) start when I type, and cease when I cease? A mouse is not this consistent. I try typing slower and quieter, in an effort to access where the noise is coming. It starts up again, almost matching my diminished speed. Where is it? Why is it tormenting me? Why? Why? It stops when I stop. It starts up when I start. It becomes more frequent and more audible if I increase my typing speed. It diminishes if I slow down and hit the keys more softly. Is it safe? I am consumed by the origin of this sound. I am intrigued by the sound. I know not what it is. Is it under my desk? Is it in my head? Is it real? Am I real? Am I awake? I hear...my hard drive clicking. I close my eys,and the sound increases, this time behind me. All around me, little scratches moving along the walls. I stop typing. Nothing at all. I decrease my typing speed to around one letter per second. The noise appeats briefly about once every four words. It's scrathing. It's annoyance. I increase my speed again, and the sound gets louder, more violent and closer. It's creeping towards me...what is it? Is it a mouse? Is it just reacting to my typing? Is it? Dammit, someone tell me what the fuck it is. I violently push back my chair, almost throwing it across the room, tearing at the junk beneath my desk crawling towards the sound's apparent origin. Flashlight in hand, I dive beneath my desk and discover nothing. I resume typing, the sound is back. More intense than ever. Is it the desk? Desperation clutches at me. It's the desk, isn't it? Creaking under each keypress. I lift my wrists and continue to type rather than resting them on the laptop. The desk and laptop creak. The sound is gone. I was generating the sound? I was generating the sound that was driving me sane? I was creating the marble sound that caused me to dive under my desk in search of nothing? I discovered what the sound was...the little plastic padded door cover to the PC Card slots. That little card, scraping ever so subtly on the desk caused my brain to unhinge in a manner I had never before experienced. Wow. Any thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Share in the insanity as well? Since I fully admit to being insane, I do declare this as my moment of clear sanity. |
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| Xeogaming Forums - - Posts by Stitch |
