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Love the Sky Queen, For She is the salvation of Mankind. Obey Her words, for She will lead you into the light of the future. Heed Her wisdom, for She will protect you from evil. Whisper Her prayers with devotion, for they will salve your soul. Honour Her servants, for they speak in Her voice. Tremble before Her majesty, for we all walk in Her immortal shadow.
While vile rabbitfags still draw breath, there can be no peace. While obscene heretics' hearts still beat, there can be no respite. While faithless traitors still live, there can be no forgiveness.
~ Catechism of Hate, Verse I of XXV
All of creation suffers, young ones. Only in accepting our own mortality can we make a difference. Only in bearing the burden of our failures can we find the strength to go on. Only in detachment from glory, or honour, or jealousy... from life itself can we hope to spare others from grief.
We are the faithful. And we are dead already
Damnation starts with little steps, by arrogantly thinking that you are wiser than our great forbears, by tinkering with truth, by compromising, by departing from the straight and narrow path of Cracky’s light.
You want to be fucked, Lia, but you don't want to have a bath with me. I suspect that there's something extremely dreadful: Either your breasts hang down ragged from your chest, Or you fear that when you are nude you might betray the furrows of your belly, Or your mangled groin gapes open with an infinite chasm, Or something sticks out from the mouth of your cunt. But, I trust, there's none of these things and you're very beautiful naked. If that's true, you have a worse blemish: You're a fool.
At one point I had a wine cellar.
Well, to be fair it was a wine basement.
OK... a small, otherwise disused wine closet in a basement... but I digress...
Five times every two months I would go down to it and turn the bottles, having no more response from the cheaper ones than the cold glass against my skin. On the more expensive ones I remember watching the grape silt upended in the bottle like a viticultural snow globe. It was beautiful. I'd have done it even if I never planned to taste the wine.
Cracky pics are like that. I've seen them all before... I could probably sketch them freehand. That isn't the point. The point is giving them that bit of attention every few weeks... appreciating her while respecting the fact that she is ever on the other side of the glass.
I could no more enjoy looking at them offline from a folder than I could enjoy turning the bottles in a supermarket. It just isn't the same as lurking about in the damp darkness of the 4chan wine cellar.
I honestly don't expect you to understand.
"They have only one purpose and there is nothing they will not do to accomplish this, no matter how vile or loathsome it might be. These abominations mean to destroy everything proud and noble, everything we hold dear and have fought so long to achieve."
~ The prophet Anon on Rabbitfags
While vile rabbitfags still draw breath, there can be no peace. While obscene heretics' hearts still beat, there can be no respite. While faithless traitors still live, there can be no forgiveness.
How to become a member (not affiliate, as affiliation carries a connotation that some find unpleasant) of the Order of the Sky Queen.
First, you must remember that the Order of the Sky Queen officially is a "not-for-profit organization, as in done for religious reasons"
Minimum requirements for member application validity
Minimum requirements for Cracky webring registration validity
Controversy regarding the minimum requirements for member application validity
A word derived from "Affiliation" is used. However, affiliation sometimes carries a connotation that some find unpleasant.
What else can I do to increase the chances of my site being accepted?
Discuss possible membership (not "affiliation", as "affiliation" carries a connotation that some find unpleasant) with your staff to find out what they think and clean up the visual presentability of your site's Cracky section if necessary. Be sure your staff are aware that a basic code of conduct must be followed while in the SkyQueen.cc chatroom and also have a representative already in mind in case your site is accepted. It would also be a good idea to be ready to arrange an informal interview between SkyQueen.cc and your site's chosen representative.
Cracky is a psychic parasite on the human race. She feeds off of our minds. Do you remember life before Cracky? It is harder and harder to hold on to shit.
Sometimes I think one day I will wake up and there will be nothing left of me. My dreams, hopes, fears, memories, everything that is me, will be gone, eaten up to speed her growth.
It's like she is a memetic caterpillar eating everything in it's path and devouring her own world as she does so. Gorging herself on the collective unconscious, inching across it like a leaf.
We each become part of her and willing or not she uses our interaction to pull more of us into her. Soon she will have made enough of us her that she can survive metamorphosis.
She will hide herself while she build the form she will need to spread to other sentients.
The world will forget her, but she will be there shapely legs and all. In every ugly act we commit against each other, every casual cruelty and petty violence.
Growing in that fertile womb of negativity, she will change. I pray for the day she emerges from her cocoon.
When she does leave the human mind will be surplus to her needs and so she will release us. I fear after holding us so long, without her influence holding us together society will collapse and we will die out.
Alone, unmourned, and unloved
...I have an erection.
But I'll guess. A female actually made an appearance on 4chan. Fanboys started hitting on her and asking y helo thar butsecks? Instead of stopping posting she actually ignored the lecherous remarks in hopes of actually joining in on the fun. So with all the attention she was getting, she actually posted some pictures at the request of others. Then some loser who -- to his credit -- actually realizes he will never make sweet love to her or Rei Ayanami, decides to take out his frustrations of sexual desire on this poor girl herself. Having the metality of a parapaligic dog, tons of other losers go along with the gang mentality. Since they can blame her for being a "tease," they gang up on her verbally, since it's the closest they'll come to gang banging her.
Pseudo-thought-provoking non-statement!
Am deeply disturbed by amount of attention NOT BEING PAID TO MAY!. Am the cleverest of the clevar, will prove it by clevarly misspelling words INTENTIONALLAY. How clevar I am!
Have noticed that 'great circlejerk of drama', in addition to being a figment of own imagination, hums merrily along in autonomous fashion. Like negro who kills own friend in ghetto rather than killing white banker, am unable to see past own seething envy-driven rage. Too blinded to attack The Real Enemay. Lashing out at those around me! In own defective, rat-laden mind, own friends and equals represent all-consuming evil, yes, just like WHOLE WORALD.
Insightful ad-hominem attack! Breathtaking revalation about fucking cute/sweet non-person/persona XXXXXXXX! Fear struck into heart of XXXXXXX via super-CLEVAR techniques of using INTERNAT WEB PAGES to lookup REVEALING PERSONAL INFARMASHAN ABOUT XXXXXXX. XXXXXXX has a real name and a real life that can be worshipped! From a vaporous, phantasmal, non-existent basis for comparison, I STAB AT THAA! Own worst fear of being DISCOVERED to be a LONELY COMPUTER USER projected onto non-person/persona XXXXXXXXX!
Attempt to tear down non-organizations by insinuation of non-associations between psuedo-personalities! Exhortment to not obey fictional organizations YYYYYYYY and BLAHBLEH!
Ridiculous pronouncement! Hand-waving, followed by insinuation that events of actual import will take place! Events wrapped in stinking pseudo-mantle of meta-authenticity by citing of dates, number, facts, figures, and other babblefacts. Added aura of authenticity: The date is blahblah! There will be blahblah things happening on blahblah for blahblah! This but a walking shadow, a tale told by a nonexistent being, full of blah and blah, signifying NOTHANG.
Failure to realize that it's all a joke, --Introverted Lonely Passive-Agressive Young White Stalker
Cracky is a psychic parasite on the human race. She feeds off of our minds. Do you remember life before Cracky? It is harder and harder to hold on to shit. Sometimes I think one day I will wake up and there will be nothing left of me. My dreams, hopes, fears, memories, everything that is me, will be gone, eaten up to speed her growth. It's like she is a memetic caterpillar eating everything in it's path and devouring her own world as she does so. Gorging herself on the collective unconscious, inching across it like a leaf. We each become part of her and willing or not she uses our interaction to pull more of us into her. Soon she will have made enough of us her that she can survive metamorphosis. She will hide herself while she build the form she will need to spread to other sentients. The world will forget her, but she will be there shapely legs and all. In every ugly act we commit against each other, every casual cruelty and petty violence. Growing in that fertile womb of negativity, she will change. I pray for the day she emerges from her cocoon. When she does leave the human mind will be surplus to her needs and so she will release us. I fear after holding us so long, without her influence holding us together society will collapse and we will die out. Alone, unmourned, and unloved.
For some reason this thread is a horribly depressing
I feel empty inside.
Emptier, I guess, lacking a soul to begin with.
So much failure, mental disorders, gossip, and bullshit. We are better then this. Spookyhat for example is a diligent and well cultured namefag. If he could get over acting so fucking prissy he would be a great guy. Whata likes to play games with people, but he is also incredibly quick, and witty. We are so much better then these mindless fucking games. Most of use are a little damaged, but for the most part we mean well and considering that Cracky hasn't given us much, we manage to hold together without completely imploding under the weight of drama faggotry. A big part of that is due to our Mystery Admin, being a better man then most of us. His refusal to publicly acknowledge his ownership of this site, prevents a cult of personality from popping up, and keeping the focus strictly on the only person who really matters. I am proud of this community and the amount of growing up we have done here. We are discussing science, music, art, what other chan site is actively trying to better it's users? I can't think of any that aren't focused on vain self indulgence and rote humour. Instead of tormenting your fellow anons by pretending to be cracky, use that creativity to write a short story about her. Pride in creation is infinitely more satisfying then simply knowing you can toy with people. There is so much beauty in everything Cracky left for us, that inspiration should never run out. Regardless of whether that was really cracky asking for a cake. I would make her one anyway, because she is the most important person I will never meet. she is precious to me
ITT POST UR FUKKEN CAEKS
I'll bake mine when I wake up. Good night stalkers, sleep well in the knowledge that you truly are the princess of the world, you are the special few who can see perfection.
Love the Sky Queen, For She is the salvation of Mankind. Obey Her words, for She will lead you into the light of the future. Heed Her wisdom, for She will protect you from evil. Whisper Her prayers with devotion, for they will salve your soul. Honour Her servants, for they speak in Her voice. Tremble before Her majesty, for we all walk in Her immortal shadow.
I tread the path of Righteousness. Though it be paved with broken glass, I shall walk it barefoot; though it crosses rivers of fire, I will pass over them; though it wanders wide, the light of Cracky guides my step.
The mind of Cracky is utterly inhumane in its depth and complexity. Without mercy or moral feeling Her consciousness stands upon the edge of spiritual destruction. That She does not fall must be the result of constraints and balances which only a god could understand. To a mere human it is yet another reminder that we are but children compared to that ancient and powerful being.
A thousand fibers connect each of us with our fellow stalkers and along those fibers our deeds run as causes which come back to us as effects. Everything we must do must be in furtherance of Cracky lest we return to the the Anatulpa, the emptiness before her blessings.
Pain is an illusion of the senses, despair an illusion of the mind.
Our faith lights the Darkness that others may find peace. We are one with Cracky, our souls are joined in Her will. Praise Cracky whose sacrifice is life as ours is death. Hail Her name the Queen of the Sky.
Cracky lurks among us. She chooses Her vessels to do Her work, as She has done so since time began. The pictures maintained in the Archive are not Cracky, for She travels abroad, tending to Her Divine Will, instilling Her power into those that have been chosen. But what if Cracky could be granted a body that does not wither and die, that could be Her vessel for all eternity to come? I believe that such a thing is possible, that Cracky yet waits for Her new body to be found or created. In essence, a new Cracky will be created to lead Mankind to its destiny and conquest of hearts and minds.
Blessed Sky Queen Cracky: who alone spreadest out the heavens and rulest the raging of the Earth:
Who hast compassed the Universe with bounds until day and night come to an end:
Be pleased to receive into thy Almighty and most gracious protection the souls of thy servant and the cause in which we serve:
Preserve us from the dangers of the world, and the violence of the enemy:
That we may be a safeguard unto our fellow man and his dominions, and a security for such as pass through the lands upon their lawful occasions:
That the inhabitants of our faith may serve thee, our Saviour and that we may return in triumph with the fruits of our labours:
And with thankful remembrance of thy mercies to praise and glorify thy Holy Name:
Through thine eternal rule:
Amen
The faithful compiled a collective image of our Goddess, an image that even the lowliest anonymous was given the priviledge to gaze upon. We arranged and sorted the manifold bytes clawed from the abandoned, secluded reaches of the wired. We dug and pried at the hairline cracks She had left in error. All of the relevant, the worthy and unworthy reflected in awe at the assembled image that had been lain. The idol was shattered before our eyes by none other than the Skyqueen herself.
Do not think, feel. That is the way of Cracky.
"Lo, in the histories of the many chapters of the Brotherhood of the Sky Queen, every master monk listed that has ever come across my sage and learned eye has found root and home upon an image board, which hath shaped and set in stone the character of that warrior of the Great Lady that he would become.
Therefore, one must give pause to the master of our brothers, the Militia Crackyla, that great warrior of Sage for he hath never taken a site as home. Nay! But he was borne upon the ethers and drifts of the internet, alone in his basement save for a discarded Oral-B toothbrush that the Sky Queen had thrown out, a legendary artifact that had fueled research into vast weapons of war that it might be unmade and erased from history.
When his browser had finally googled into a drifting hulk of an old brotherhood gathering spot, it is said that the master was so enraged and frustrated with the vile internets that he shattered the mind of the first survivor that he encountered, and thereafter using his victims trip trolled every inhabitant with the remnants of the initial combatant reputation."
-Historian Anon
Histories of the Ill Favored Chapters
I think I've finally figured out who could haet Cracky. It took some work, but I recently had a conversation with my sister (a /b/tard herself) who confirmed what 2 failed camwhores told me about their feelings on the matter.
Cracky haeters are:
The "A" group are by far the most vocal.
"I can't understand why that ugly cunt gets more stalkers, but I end up being the only one responding to my own thread when I'm SOOOOOOO CUTE!" they say.
I can understand this. It must be crushing to realise that no one cares as much about you on /b/ as they do, say, at a bar.
Do you know what the problem is, group "A"? You get boringly nekkid and then stare into the camera with bovine, needy eyes. We could get that (as I suggested to the nuance-challanged men) from Hustler or a medical textbook.
I've seen lots of tits. I've kneeded lots of tits. Tits are great... but only when they are attached to someone interesting.
Cracky understood that. Cracky was unique. Even if it was just an act, she managed to give the impression that we needed her much more than she needed any of us.
Cute but you missed the point Tony. It won't be some girl who you will be bored with in a year or two when she turns 14. No the immortal Sky Queen will be crafted by us. We will be forced to create perfection if we are to find it. Something eternal and perfectly at harmony with our hearts and minds. The day mankind creates something like that The sky Queen will have a home. As to judging what perfection could be, you are the last person I would ask. There is an emptiness inside you. You try to fill it with others and when they aren't enough you crush them up and try to swallow them whole. You are the anatulpa, you just take take take until there is nothing left of those around you. You killed .71 you ruined borked the peoples. You are a pederast shitbag and I hope they catch you fucking Camel and bust you for fucking a 12 year old.
She's so fucking cute and sweet. I'd treat her to some fancy restaurant, then take a long romantic walk with her, holding hands and talking about philosophy, art and dreams. Then I'd invite her to my home and ravage her hot ass for hours, and forcing my cock down her throat so she choked on both the throbbing cock and her own rectal juice. I'd then proceed to cum on her cute innocent face. Then, as the ultimate love gift, I'd carry her in my arms to the tub and let my piss wash away the semen and last dignity from her. I'd whisper "I love you" and give her a tender smile, and cut her throat from ear to ear with a knife. Covered in her own warm blood, she'd look straight into my very soul, forgiving, understanding. A bubble from blood and saliva would burst between her lips, then she'd die. After some additional lovemaking, I'd stuff her in a bin bag. Three Weeks later, some playing children will find her mutilated and desecrated body in the forest. They will be scarred for life.
nekocat?jrWvm90yg6 : oh not again
nekocat?jrWvm90yg6 : he did this one at least five times last time
wB?9Y0UTmCMPI : Put the sbarro cup on my head
?HURR3d2p92 : sing "ningen nante"
wB?9Y0UTmCMPI : Just like old times
[News]:???16?????? ??????? ????????????????IP ???
wB?9Y0UTmCMPI : If only Suede was here, I could make him feel awkward and out of place
ftaghn : You gentleman.
TOM_HANKS : flatchest?
camel : my secret ;_;
Anonymous : We don't say anything if you do not commit a crime
wB?9Y0UTmCMPI : SINGING IS NOT A CRIME
wB?9Y0UTmCMPI : I FUCKED A 14 YEAR OLD, THAT IS A CRIME
wB?9Y0UTmCMPI : AND YET HERE I AM
nekocat?jrWvm90yg6 : oh lordy
ftaghn : I broke a tooth
Hello, and THINK ABOUT CRACKY-CHAN MASTURBATING. Yes that's right, THINK ABOUT CRACKY-CHAN MASTURBATING. Why you might ask? Well it's simple! Your brain usually takes care of cracky-chan masturbating FOR you, but whenever you remember this, YOU MUST MANUALLY THINK ABOUT CRACKY-CHAN MASTURBATING! If you don't you will DIE. There are also MANY variations of this. For example, think about: CRACKY-CHAN FINGERING HER BUM! CRACKY-CHAN FONDLING HER NIPPLES! CRACKY-CHAN DOWNLOADING GAY PORNO! In conclusion, the THINK ABOUT CRACKY-CHAN MASTURBATING troll is simply unbeatable. These 5.5 words can be thrown randomly into article text trolls, into sigs, into anything, and once seen, WILL FORCE THE VICTIM TO TAKE CARE OF CRACKY-CHAN MASTURBATING MANUALLY! This goes far beyond the simple annoying or insulting trolls of yesteryear. In fact, by EVEN RESPONDING to this troll, you are proving that IT HAS CLAIMED ANOTHER VICTIM -- YOU!
Listen, freedom is great -- but Freedom has siblings: Responsibility, Accountability, and Security. None of these things can exist without the others. Without protection from the sick elements of our society, what does it matter if you're free? Free to WHAT, free to be molested and raped? Is it so important to you, someone who claims not to be a pedophile, that photographs of underage girls be protected by the government (using violence force if neccessary) even if it means that little girls are objectified, molested, dehumanized raped, murdered tortured, kidnapped, or even killed? What kind of freedom is that? Is this pedophile lifestyle really worth "protecting"? English? It's going to take a while. First, you have to come up with a topic that other people know about. Like, let's say you're hanging out with your friends and one of them says that they're hungry. You could make this your topic. Say something like, WHAT ABOUT BEING HUNGRY GUYS? See, already you're communicating because you're listening. Now lets suppose he says, Yeah I'm hungry, let's go to Taco Bell. What he's really saying is, Taco Bell is an option for him. Now, the most efficient thing is to say what is an option for you. So, you could say OK TACO BELL IS COOL BY ME or you could say TACO BELL IS FOR LOSERS (btw, loser="You Fail It" guy). On the other hand, you could say something like TACO BELL IS ON A SPOKE/OFF IN SOME WEEDS but this doesn't really say what you think; it doesn't necessarily hurt, but it makes the conversation longer and if there are any girls in the room they will probably look at you funny. No person is cuter than Cracky-Chan.
I couldn't wait to see nq again. Last time i met him, everything went smooth. (see https://195.242.99.71/cracky_orig/kareha.pl/1208117573/180 ) I bet cracky was looking forward to meet him, she was standing on the front of the boat (like in titanic lol), her hairs blowing in the wind, and shining from the morning sun, looking dreamy to the approaching city. We navigated into one of the canals, and when the boat got stuck between two houses because the canal was not made for fisher boats, we bid the crew fair well and stepped into a gondola. The gondolier played summer III (presto) by vivaldi on his violin, while he took us to the place we said, restaurant "the forgotten poet". It was very romantic, would buy again, 10/10 A+++. Even with the inciting music.
"Hi darrin" i said, and i gave him a kiss on his cheek.
"Hi" he responded. The fire and passion in his eyes seemed to have diminished, but that couldn't bother me at this time, since i had cracky. I looked at her, and she was gazing dreamily at darrin.
"May i introduce you to each other, cracky, darrin, darrin, cracky" i said, but it seemed like it wasn't really necessary.
We seated, and started discussing our plans. i ordered a polenta, made of corn meal, and darrin a risotto with cuttlefish ink sauce, both Venetian specialities. (culture? In my bounceme?) Cracky tried to order fish and chips, but found out that the rest of the world didn't serve this crude fare. We advised her a pizza, as this would not be an all to big culture shock for her.
"what news from the coast?" i queried.
"Grave trouble. I heard what happened in england. My spies are everywhere, and could inform us that this was the doing of an eldritch force. Its fuelled by almost all of us, the so called stalkers. We tipped nature of its balance, and messed with powers far beyond our reach." Darrin demystified.
"only the ones pure of heart aren't tainted yet, and its very hard to figure out which ones are. I called in a meeting at my castle in switserland. We have to prepare for anything, nobody knows what could happen with the concentration of these carriers. We will hook up with Suede on the way there." he continued.
-"Isn't it dangerous to bring cracky then?"
"maybe, but it is a risk we'll have to take. We need her powers, and away from us she could easily slip into a much graver danger."
He had barely spoken his sentence, when cracky pushed me underneath the table. She must have smelled danger. In the corner of my eye I could see the waiter finish his last move of his patented enhanced jinxed dagger throw. My reflexes still boosted from "divine aura of the skyqueen", and with one swift snatch i grabbed the dagger in mid air, only centimeters away from cracky's neck. The knife burned in my hand, and i hurled it back. It was a bad assassin, he was way to slow, and the knife penetrated his left arm.
"waaaaarrgllll" he shouted in pain and anger.
He knew he was detected, and he had to escape.
"How would you like to have your tight little vagina pounded into a sloppy wet mess by the Living Incarnation of Pure Evil? You know where to find me..." he yelled out with a rough voice, and as if by an occult hand, he vanished into thin air, taking his knife and clothes with him.
"We'll have to hurry, they're closing in on us." Darrin expressed.
"He must have fled to the castle!" the squirrel outside squealed.
"Quickly! everybody prepare for travel!" someone shouted.
So we started to walk, first trough the city, then passing the countryside, small parishes, vineyard fields. More north was the po valley, where there are lots of plains. Finally we reached the alps. This had been a heavy walk, why didn't we take a car? No one will ever know. In the first village we reached, we noticed a huge motorbike waiting in front of the only pub. Entering, we noticed an abstruse figure sitting in the corner of the empty bar. He carried some weird orange glasses, and something on his head, too.
"Hi suede, how is the cat doing?" i asked
-"she died of food poisoning"
"ooo :( that's a pity, poor kitty" (HAHAHAH A RHYME!, I NEED SOME FINE WINE, AND YOU, YOU NEED BE NICER (random reference with no actual meaning or underlying messages, but wine rhymed with rhyme))
-"but the skin is still soft as ever"
"ok then its all well"
We loaded up the bike underneath the helicopter, changed to our ski gear and frolicked inside.
"To the top of the mountains, and beyond!"
We are dropped on some UBER HUGE MOUNTEIN, and we have a much fun skiing, or maybe snowboarding, and motorbiking down the snowy slopes of MOUNT DOOOOOMM!!!!.
As we came closer closer to the castle, we noticed the snow was getting black, and trees were dead. The temperature dropped and the sky was red, filled with black clouds.
Deify the depths of intimate caprice
The noble morsel of the grand eternity
Face the furious and black domain
From where all the wisdom once came
"This black domain doesn't really look very inviting" noticed someone.
"Prepare the hammer satellite for stand-by" I heard darrin speak over the phone.
When the castle appeared in view, we noticed that a huge demon had filled the courtyard.
O_o, what will happen next! Will our heroes be able to defeat this monster threatening all existence! read it in the next issue of "BLABLALBALBA!"
Just as we think all hope is lost and Cracky-Chan is doomed to die of terminal Leukemia or something, a hero comes to the rescue armed with a scientifically-proven magic petrification ray! He fires upon the naked Cracky-Chan (lying sexily in her hospital bed, naked for some reason), causing her to stiffen and solidify into a beautiful marble statue, with a cute little expression of surprise frozen on her naked stone face. Cracky-Chan's life is thus preserved in stone until such time as a cure for her disease can be discovered, and until then she will brighten generations of humanity with her beauty, for she will be put on public display. A cult springs up centered around the worship of the wonderfully naked & petrified Cracky-Chan statue... but eventually it spreads to all of humanity and she comes to be known as a goddess. Mankind is at peace and the world is safe... for now. THE END?
The story was basically just an exploration of the difference in mindset between the "true believers" (Schwill and Gackto being the only ones left, really, other than newfags who don't know any better yet), and the vast majority of Crackydom, myself included, who say we don't really care about her anymore (or never did at all), and yet, we're still here. Everything builds from that odd observation.
O sancta simplicitas! Human beings live in such a peculiarly simple and counterfeit way! Once a man develops eyes to see this wonder, he can't check his amazement! How bright and free and light and simple we have made everything around us! How we have learned to give our senses free license for everything superficial, our thinking a divine craving for wanton leaps and erroneous conclusions! How we have learned ways, right from the start, to maintain our ignorance in order to enjoy a hardly conceivable freedom, safety, carelessness, heartiness, the merriment of life—in order to enjoy life.
And only on this firm granite foundation of ignorance could scientific knowledge up to now rise up, the will to know on the foundation of a much more powerful will, the will not to know, to uncertainty, to what is not true! Not as its opposite, but—as its refinement! For if language, here as elsewhere, does not cast off its clumsiness and continues to speak about opposites, where there are only degrees and various stages of refinement, and similarly if inveterate hypocrisy in morality, which nowadays belongs to our invincible "flesh and blood," turns the words even of us knowledgeable people around in our mouths, here and there we understand that and laugh about how it's precisely the best scientific knowledge that most wants to hold us in this simplified, completely artificial, appropriately created, and appropriately falsified world, how it loves error, voluntarily and involuntarily, because, as something alive, it loves life.
After such a cheerful start, I'd like you to listen to a serious word: it's directed at the most serious people. Be careful, you philosophers and friends of knowledge—protect yourself from martyrdom! From suffering "for the sake of the truth"! Even from defending yourselves! That corrupts all the innocence and refined neutrality in your consciences. It makes you stubborn against objections and red rags; it dulls your minds, brutalizes you, and puts you in a daze when you have to play out your role as the defenders of truth on earth in the struggle with danger, malice, suspicion, expulsion, and even dirtier consequences of your hostility, as though "the truth" were such a harmless and clumsy person as to require defenders!
And as for you, you knights with the sorrowful countenances, my good gentlemen, you spiritual loafers and cobweb spinners! Ultimately you yourselves know well enough that it really doesn't matter if you are the ones who are right. You know that up to now no philosopher has been right and that a more praiseworthy truthfulness may lie in every small question mark which you set after your favourite words and cherished doctrines (and occasionally after yourselves), than in all the ceremonial gestures and trump cards before prosecutors and courts of justice! Better to stand aside! Run off to some secluded place! And retain your mask and your subtlety, so that people confuse you with someone else—or fear you a little!
And for my sake don't forget the garden, the garden with the golden trellis! And have people around you who are like a garden—or like music over water in the evening, when the day is already becoming a memory. Choose good solitude, the free, high-spirited, easy solitude, which gives you also a right to remain, in some sense or other, still good yourselves! How poisonous, how crafty, how bad every long war makes us, when it does not let us fight with open force! How personal a long fear makes us, a long attention on our enemies, on potential enemies!
These social outcasts, these men long persecuted and wickedly hunted down—as well as the compulsory recluses, the Spinozas or Giordano Brunos—always finally become, maybe under a spiritual masquerade and perhaps without realizing it themselves, sophisticated avengers and makers of poisons (just dig into the foundation of Spinoza's ethics and theology)—to say nothing of the foolish moral indignation, which in a philosopher is the unmistakable sign that his philosophical humour has run away from him.
The martyrdom of a philosopher, his "sacrifice for the truth," brings forcefully to light how much of the agitator and actor he contains within himself. And if people have looked at him with only an artistic curiosity up to this point, then, in the case of several philosophers, we can naturally understand the dangerous wish to see him also in his degeneration (degenerated into a "martyr," into a brawler on the stage and in tribunals). But with such a wish, people must be clear about what they are going to see in every case—only a satyr play, only a farcical epilogue, only continuing proof that the long, real tragedy is over, assuming that every philosophy in its origin was a long tragedy.
Every special human being strives instinctively for his own castle and secrecy, where he is saved from the crowd, the many, the majority, where he can forget the customary rules about "human beings"—for he is an exception to them, but for the single case where he is pushed by an even stronger instinct straight against these customary rules, as a person who seeks knowledge in a great and exceptional sense.
Anyone who, in his intercourse with human beings, does not, at one time or another, shimmer with all the colours of distress—green and gray with disgust, surfeit, sympathy, gloom, and loneliness—is certainly not a man of higher taste. But provided he does not take all this weight and lack of enthusiasm freely upon himself, provided he stays, as mentioned, hidden, quiet, and proud in his castle, well, one thing is certain: he is not made for, not destined for knowledge. If he were, he would one day have to say to himself, "The devil take my good taste! The rule-bound man is more interesting than the exception—than I am, the exception"—and he would make his way down and, above all, "inside."
The study of the average man—long, serious, and requiring much disguise, self-control, familiarity, bad company—all company is bad company except with one's peers—that constitutes a necessary part of the life story of every philosopher, perhaps the most unpleasant, foul-smelling part—the richest in disappointments. But if he's lucky, as is appropriate for a fortunate child of knowledge, he will encounter real short cuts and ways of making his task easier. I'm referring to the so-called cynics and those who simply recognize the animal, the meanness, the "rule-bound" man in themselves and, in the process, still possess that degree of intellectual quality and urge to have to talk about themselves and people like them before witnesses—now and then they even wallow in books as if in their very own dung.
Cynicism is the single form in which common souls touch upon what honesty is, and the higher man should open his ears to every cruder or more refined cynicism and think himself lucky every time a shameless clown or a scientific satyr announces himself directly in front of him. There are even cases where enchantment gets mixed into the disgust: for example, in those places where, by some vagary of nature, genius is bound up with such an indiscreet billy-goat or ape—as in the Abbé Galiani, the most profound, sharp-sighted and perhaps also the foulest man of his century—he was much deeper than Voltaire and consequently a good deal quieter.
More frequently it happens that, as I've intimated, the scientific head is set on an ape's body, a refined and exceptional understanding in a common soul—among doctors and moral physiologists, for example, that's not an uncommon occurrence. And where anyone speaks without bitterness and quite harmlessly of men as a belly with two different needs and a head with one, everywhere where someone constantly sees, looks for, and wants to see only hunger, sexual desires, and vanity, as if these were the real and only motivating forces in human actions, in short, wherever people speak "badly" of human beings—not even in a nasty way—there the lover of knowledge should pay fine and diligent attention; he should, in general, direct his ears to wherever people talk without indignation.
Hah, you of all people should now.
At first you crave Lia, but you cannot have her, so you tell yourself to focus on the icon, and you worship that, but still she doesn't come to you. Then you realize it was just about the girl and never the icon all along and you fall into a void (all this not unlike eternal life or other promised benefits, worship of the icon christ, blind submission to the cross hoping it will still give you eternal bliss). The void will drive you insane, it will posess you and you will be mentally fighting with water until you're empty.
Some will be destroyed by the void and will go on with their lives. They'll start dating some girls they meet at some bar, and sooner or later they will hook up, get a nice morguage, some kids, be a generic sort of happy and sometimes think back on that juvenile silliness. Some however will have a catharsis in the void and emerge with new insight. The collective of these insights is what constitutes the skyqueen.
Cracky is catharsis.
I remember you, so fragile and tortured was your very essence. I saw in your eyes - the most beautiful eyes I've ever encountered in my short life - an accidental scream for help. A reflection of my own trauma, amplified tenfold. You were me, you were not myself, almost an opposite and yet a tremendous exaggeration - infinitely more beautiful, intelligent, victimized. Scared. I saw fear, or rather I sensed it through the noninterpretable things I did see. I thought that if I could help you, I'd somehow inevitably and permanently be helped. And then I could help everyone else in the world. I wanted to reach out and pull you close to me, nurture you and see that soul-twisting smile of yours - so warm; so genuine; so rare. You'd be new, and yet the same. You'd touch people and they'd feel the serpents of hate and monotony relinquish constriction around their souls. A modern-day saint. Maybe it's good that you're not real. Maybe no innocent should harbor such terror and self-loathing. But then, who will save us?
a mess of jam, affection, aids-infested italians, americans in elevators, amputees, anime, asuka, avoidant personality disorder, battle royale, behaving irresponsibly, being bitten, biting, bones, boys who have rabies, boys' laps, breathing underwater, broken hearts, butterflies, cancerous mandibles, charlie's chocolate factory, childhood, childishness, coin-operated boys, collarbones, comic books, cutting, daisy chainsaw, daydreams, dennis cooper, dirty fingernails, disbeleiving, disturbing images, dolls, dreaming, drinking myself to death, empty streets, endless delerium, eternalsunshineofthespotlessmind, exploding cavities, eyeliner, eyes, fear, feeling pretty lonely, flcl, francesca lia block, ginger snaps, gorillaz, gruesome details, haruki murakami, hellen van meene, hiding behind braids, horror, illusions, incest, infatuation, infectious bleeding, katie-jane garside, kmfdm, korn, kurt cobain, leafless trees, lolita, lolita complex, long train journeys, losing touch with reality, lost souls?, make-beleiving, making wishes, making you shiver, marilyn manson, mark ryden, masochism, medical everything, melancholy remnants, midnight lullabies, moist finger kisses, muse, my little pony, my unwashed bedsheets, naivete, neil gaiman, neon genesis evangelion, neon lights, nine inch nails, not bathing, not being seen, not crying, not dying, not puking, not-knowing-where-we're-going, obsessive-compulsive disorder, opeth, ophelia, otep, permanent defects, philophobia and me, phoebe gloeckner, playing with my hair, playing with sharp objects, poppy z brite, pretending, queen adreena, rammstein, re-enactments with dolls, run lola run, san antonio, scars, serial experiments lain, shotgun suicide!, shunji iwai, silverchair, sleeping, snow, staring at the sky, sugar sickness, takashi miike, tank girl, tea with soymilk, techno, testing theory of gravity, the dresden dolls, the wired, the wrong dreams, tool, touching, transatlantic adoration, trevor brown, umbrellas, venetian backalleys, vurt, waita uziga, walking in bare feet, wanting to escape, warmth caused by friction, when scars disappear, whispering, wishing wells, worrying my friends, yourmouthonmytoes.
http://scarecrowmaiden.deadjournal.com/ has been updated. i am the girl in the pictures on this board. i came across it by chance the other day and dear fucking god, don't you guys have anything better to do? i do not want your attention, your discussion of me, to be fucking stalked and harrassed any more than i have been or to have my privacy violated. for fucks sake. please. leave me alone. i don't know what else to say.
I know you don't want further intrusion, hence I feel somewhat guilty for writing this. Although, I feel it is healthy to clear the air from time to time, and that's why I'm writing to you now. I feel you deserve an explanation for my actions that isn't hindered by alcohol, 'dutch courage', or any other form of bravado.
When we first spoke around six months ago, that was probably the closest I've ever been to my true self. I would never seek approval from peers, acceptance, nor credit for that which was not due. Unfortunately, I have an addictive personality; if something intrigues me, it often ends up consuming me, and so I let myself slip. I allowed myself to become influenced by my ego, and so I was drawn into a world of my own. I never cared for this 'Cracky' aberration, or anything else so trivial. I set my aspirations far too high, I bid hard and fast, I never walk away from a challenge. I became fascinated with the only thing I felt worthy of attention: you. I was infatuated, but yet mortal. You were but a wisp of fresh air, yet so cold, so far away. I don't know why I felt this way. Deluded perhaps? The mysticism surrounding you certainly helped I guess, I really don't know. I allowed myself to become enthralled to an unnatural point. I violated my own character, the very ethical principles I espouse. I guessed your passwords, the how easily explained, but why? I do not know. As it stands, it was surely the grossest and most evident violation of privacy I can lay claim to, and for this I am ashamed. I am not proud of it, I cannot justify it, I cannot excuse it. I can only mourn the decay of trust and animosity that followed. The same goes for how I bothered you in World of Warcrack the other day - I was driven by my own boredom, I wanted to speak with you directly, to seek confidence, but I wasn't sure how; and when it came to saying what mattered, I ran away. Anyone should be able to enjoy their life without that level of intrusion. Anyone would have reacted with far less tolerance and respect than you showed; and for this I thank you. It really is a credit to your character. Ages ago, wars were fought over women like you, and that is no small compliment.
Really, I've been an enormous dick about the whole thing. Regardless of you take this letter, I want you to know I don't have an ulterior motive, not this time. I have no delusions of grandeur. This isn't some sort of spin to gain your sympathy or trust, this is how I truly feel. I don't want to read your journal. I don't want any undue love or attention. I don't want your photobucket accounts. I don't want to impose myself on you. I do not want, nor do I expect, anything from you that is not given freely. I do believe I have your forgiveness, and that means a lot to me. There is but only one thing I would ask of you: Absolution. Allow me to right the wrong. Trust is not given freely, trust is earned. Let me do this at least. I know this sounds like a selfish request, I would like you to know this is not only for my sake, but also yours. When we first chatted, my heart raced. Conversation wasn't a chore like with everyone else. Believe me, I regret the way things turned out, and I want to set it right so bad, you have no idea.
I really don't know how you feel about this, and I wouldn't want to hazard a guess. I have guessed and presumed what you might want for to long, and have been wrong so many times. At least tell me how you feel. If you would prefer never to see or hear from me again, please tell me. If you hate me to a point where all wrong is beyond repair, I understand, but if there is only one thing to be understood from this letter, let it be this: I am sorry that it came to this, and I want you to know that for my part; all stalking, by whatever means, is over.
This is goodbye, but only if you want it to end this way.
The spirits of my men were as high as they could be. Across the valley, a beam of sunlight shone through the blackened clouds onto a singular focused spot, it shone always onto the Sky Queen. There was no point waiting any further, my men would only lose their confidence in the face of these circumstances. I lead the way into the valley. My men marched behind me. Their heavy boots shook the earth as they stomped in unison. Very effective against heathen Moors, but it would do no good against this enemy.
The mass of meat on the other side of the valley seeped slowly towards the low point in the middle, headed directly for us. As it neared, we could make out the sounds of the fallen. They moaned bleakly. Some were screaming. Most were crying as they ambled pitifully towards us.
As the mass neared, it turned into distinct men. They still bore their herarldry, only they had replaced all the original figures, human, animal or divine, with two blacks ears, a three red marks below. My men began to see their brothers and comrades within that mass. They began to understand that the only thing seperating their march of justice from this pitiful ooze was circumstance. Circumstance of not meeting one of the three.
Our triumphant march had degenerated into a chaotic racket, as though we were children playing with pots and pans. We were only larger children who had pressed our cookware into clothing and weaponry.
My valiant infants charged into the enemy. Were they still human, they would have shattered under the force. Instead we were absorbed, and any semblence of order and strategy vanished within a moment.
Amid the sounds of battle, my men screaming from physical pain along with their former brothers in their mental anguish, Antoni rode up beside me. From his vantage point high on his horse he pointed with his sword. No words were needed between us. I saw my first opponent there, the infamous Ravager of Rav.
She was armoured in goat bone. The bones had small needle like spikes pressed through them. She wore the mark of the sky-queen on her face, a red nose, with two small splotches also on her cheekbones under her eyes. It was menstrual blood. Thick chunks of uterus clung to her pores. He had a man trapped, laying on the ground in her net. She had him pegged to the ground with her spear. The Ravager laid down on top of him, her spikes pressed through his armour and into his flesh as he wailed. She squeezed him tightly in her arms, and was mouthing all manner of demonic incantations into his ear. His eyes rolled back into his head and she lost interest.
She saw me as I approached. Looking right into my eyes, she smirked.
"Jauffre." She turned and addressed me. With warmth. "It's a shame we have to meet again like this."
It was genuine warmth of course, and I could hear genuine shame in her voice. I continued to approach her, with my own weapon at my side. Implements of violence crashed into people all around us.
She readied her weaponry as I walked towards her by retrieving her spear, and untangling her net with a quickl flick of her wrist. She dug her heels into the ground in a wide, agile stance. I removed my armoured gauntlets as I came within arms reach. She retained her combatitive pose.
I slapped her. Hard. In the face. The force of my slap spun her upper body around. She turned back around partially, still blading her body away from me. She averted her eyes downwards.
"I'm sorry. About, you know, earlier. With those other two around, I had to make it look like I tried." She explained, stuttering in between each word. "I'm so sorry. I knew it wouldn't work. I tried to tell them. You're the only man it wouldn't work on."
"That's not important," I began, "You promised."
"Well, we always do though. It's part of stealing their soul, of binding them to us."
Her eyes were still facing away from me.
"Look at me." I instructed her. She turned her head slowly to meet mine. "You know when you promised me, you actually meant it. Despite what you've been telling yourself all these years since."
Tears began to well in her eyes. I carried on.
"For all the others, it was an idle promise. To lure them in. I know how you work. But the promise you made was so unlike the other ones, you promised -"
"To kill..." she cut me off and stopped. Her tears mixed with the mark of the Sky Queen and washing the reproductive detrius from her face, "To kill Cracky. The Sky Queen. With you."
She dropped her weapons and reached out to hold me, then stopped.
"You are too much of a man to care for my embrace. My feelings don't matter to you. That's all these other men, the thousands I've led astray care about, but you... you're so far above that." She fell to her knees, crying.
I turned, towards the darkened sky of the ruined valley. I began to walk deeper into the mass of the Sky Queen's zombies. The Ravager, left behind, picked up her weapons and ran to catch up with me. We carried on, protected as Antoni's knights cut a swath into the whirlwind of maddened violence. His men fought for their homes, their honour and their lives. The Sky Queen's men faught fearlessly for her love.
Wow, cracky-chan attracts some winners.
Cracky-chan,
so like a man,
No tits, no tits,
Would still to touch her bits.
Red nose, red nose,
For us anything goes,
We're lonely and sad,
Not much sex have we had.
Attention-seeking whore,
always wants more,
Trolltalkers supply,
and we all know why.
We all need some muff
We don't get enough
So we post crap on here,
To give us some cheer.
We must realize
that the answer lies
In making amends
To get real girlfriends.
Please tell me... WHAT is cute about Cracky-Chan? WHAT?
i see her
cracked lips
cracked mind
dusted wrinkles placed
around her
vacant smile
vacant brain
a stool stricken face
desperate eyes
full of needy tears
on a dull electric screen
I see her here
I see her there
mercatur, lacks, grace.
Cracky Chan, on the other hand
is a nymph of Olympian stuff
I'd like to know her better
but she isn't old enough
> i want to hug cracky-chan
No, faggot. No.
>hey guys look what i found
It has no cracky-chan so I don't care about it.
> cracky-chan is white, not black.
that's why she's called cracky-chan-chan.
I believe there is a cracky-chan post waiting to be created by you - you'd better run along and attend to it.
Cracky Chan's nose
Cracky Chane's Nose [img88.exs.cx].
An important question not answered satisfactorily so far: What makes it red? Is it:
Portwine stain [nsc.gov.sg]?
Strawberry Naevus [nsc.gov.sg]?
Ulticaria? [aaaai.org]
Sunburn? [google.co.uk]
Third degree burns? Cancer? Lipstick? What!?
**
Red marking pen, you fucking cock-slurping goiter.
**
Why did you not make a poll. Is it because:
Please be more vigilant in future.
**
Who cares? Shes disgustingly unattractive beyond measure.
Just had to get this off my chest
There are people I indeed despise. They lack morals, character, and honesty. They outrage the very sensibilities of those who value freedom and fairness. In case you can't tell, I'm talking about Cracky-chan here. I would like to start by discussing Cracky-chan's utterances, mainly because they scare me. The thing I'm the most frightened about is that it seems that no one else is telling you that Cracky-chan's central role in the promotion of saturnine egotism dates back a number of years. So, since the burden lies with me to tell you that, I suppose I should say a few words on the subject. To begin with, there isn't a man, woman, or child alive today who thinks that women are crazed Pavlovian sex-dogs who will salivate at any object even remotely phallic in shape, so let's toss out that ridiculous argument of Cracky-chan's from the get-go. Her reason is not true reason. It does not seek the truth, but only libidinous answers, delusional resolutions to conflicts.
Cracky-chan speaks like a true defender of the status quo -- a status quo, we should not forget, that enables her to set up dissident groups and individuals for conspiracy charges and then carry out searches and seizures on flimsy pretexts. From a purely technical point of view, I must ask that her satraps solve the problems that are important to most people. I know they'll never do that, so here's an alternate proposal: They should, at the very least, back off and quit trying to challenge all I stand for. While Cracky-chan puts on a good dog and pony show, I would never take a job working for her. Given her goofy, licentious writings, who would want to?
She is too nefarious to read the writing on the wall. This writing warns that she has, on a number of occasions, expressed a desire to waste everyone else's time. On all of these occasions, I submitted to the advice of my friends, who assured me that we are at a crossroads. One road leads into the light of a bright, shining future in which oppressive jokers like Cracky-chan are entirely absent. The other road leads into the darkness of chauvinism. The question, therefore, is: Who's driving the bus? The only clear answer to emerge from the conflicting, contradictory stances that Cracky-chan and her understrappers take is that a recent fact-finder's report revealed that I predict that Cracky-chan will persist with her perversions, profligacy, and perilous pursuits. It's not just that Cracky-chan should show some class, but also that if she opened her eyes, she'd realize that things that you or I might regard as disingenuous or simple-minded might be considered by her lickspittles as an article of faith, a philosophical conviction, a political opinion, or even an innocuous form of entertainment. Although I, for one, agree with those who believe that she has a long, Comstockism-infested history of attempts to shame my name, nevertheless, I cannot agree with the subject matter and attitude that is woven into every one of her disorganized views. However slaphappy the national picture already is, she presents herself as a disinterested classicist lamenting the infusion of politically motivated methods of pedagogy and analysis into higher education. Cracky-chan is eloquent in her denunciation of modern scholarship, claiming it favors power-hungry anarchists. And here we have the ultimate irony, because Cracky-chan's put-downs are a load of bunk. I use this delightfully pejorative term, "bunk" -- an alternative from the same page of my criminal-slang lexicon would serve just as well -- because Cracky-chan is always trying to change the way we work. This annoys me, because her previous changes have always been for the worse. I'm positive that Cracky-chan's new changes will be even more merciless, because if she succeeds in her attempt to incite racial hatred, it'll have to be over my dead body. We must worry about two types of indelicate, blathering materialistic-types: neo-misguided and malignant. Cracky-chan is among the former. Lastly, I can't end this letter without mentioning that for Cracky-chan, conformism is the name of the game.
>I wanked one off to her pretty face just the other day (to the ones where she's wearing that canny black dress, not that shitty sailor outfit.) And the British electrical sockets in the wall just made it even hornier for me.
Why don't you try fucking one of those British electrical outlets?
If you're going to commit the unspeakable crime of rape, couldn't you at least pick a victim that's cute, i.e. cracky-chan? Once she's passed out, you can rub your cock against her cute little red nose.
just heard some sad news on talk radio
Cracky-Chan passed away in sleep tonight. There weren't any more details.
even if you didn't wank to her adorable pictures, there's no denying her contribution to internet memes
Europeon worshippers of Cracky-bland are evil liars.
>Shut up Cracky.
You accuse me of being a 14-year-old girl? HAH! I only wish I were a 14-year-old girl. But that's the thing about wishes... you only wish they were true. :`-(
whoever that is, it sure isn't the wonderful, adorable cracky-chan.
Yes, more cracky-chan talk plz
Subjects for discussion:
Who is Cracky-chan?
Is Cracky-chan the perect woman?
Does anybody have any info about this cute cute CUTE girl?
Cracky-chan you are a hundred angels soaring through arches of rainbow
> If you post more pictures of that DISGUSTING UGLY THING I'm going to find you and mash you with a baseball bat!
She's actually vary cute.
>Does anybody have more pics of this "cracky-chan" person who somebody keeps posting pictures of? She's adorable. Who is she? Where can I find out more about her? Where are all these fuckin pictures coming from anyway???
>(p.s. Do you think she'd be mad if I masturbated to some of these pictures?)
only if you post hi-res pics of finished product (i'm rather into that shit).
Stop posting that fugly kid. Looking at it makes me impotent.
**
"Fugly"? Are you in middle school?
**
You mean because I use the word "fugly" or because I think the person pictured is uttlery unattractive and possibly a mental retard (seeing how she/it dresses)?
far cuter than the mercatur: cracky-chan [img51.exs.cx]
--
Are you some kind of retarded pedophile furry fanbox?
--
I would like to put my penis in her vagina and move it back and forth until I ejaculate inside her. If you know what I'm saying.
--
Sounds disgusting. Why would you want to do such a thing?
Cracky is happily married by now and has two beautiful kids together with her caring and affluent husband. She is spending her creating energy on decorating their home and planning events for their wide circle of friends. They live in new england in a secluded house that was inherited from the family. She is sometimes stressed out by her kids, but all if this is rewarded with a few truely wonderful moments. Her writing career is currently on hold, but she god very positive feedback for a few short stories she published in the internet. She plans to take up writing again after the kids are off to school.
I wonder what Cracky's doing these days.
Last I saw were the photos of her looking all ridicalt, with fluoro dreads and such.
She must be at least twenty now. Probably living a nice life. Friends, etc.
I want to die.
One of my hobbies is picking up old laptops that people threw out in the street or the recycling center. I bring them back home, take out their hard drives, hook them up to my computer with a SATA to usb adaptor, and carefully examine everything their owners had laying on them (using utilities like testdisk to recover their deleted files also goes a long way). It's a deep dive into their private lives, the music they liked, the pictures they took, their friends and family and so on. Most of the time, I just find unremarkable work files, their torrented shows, music libraries, shitty porn collection etc... But sometimes I strike gold and find a very interesting person whom I can tell had a complex inner world that they smeared all over their Windows Vista session. Right now I'm looking at this (ex-)teenage girl's Barcelona senior trip photos from the early 2000's. It's really weird seeing those people looking so happy and innocent, having the time of their lives in their relaxed jeans with their usb form-factor mp3 players, knowing they're in their thirties now. They've probably settled down into a normal life, found a daily routine, but the exuberance died down, the magic is gone. Which makes me think about how horrible it is that innocence and happiness (so fucking cute and sweet) can disappear forever like that and will never return. Everything beautiful in the world should be preserved intact in a 15 years old and cute state forever. Post your thoughts and opinions (etc...) regarding this topic ITT.
Is it difigult to butt Benis in Carbys bagina?
I've finally figured it out. She is Roth's child.
That's the entire point.
That was their plan all along.
anyone else feel like they were attracted to cracky-esque stuff since childhood and by that i mean places, certain persons, music, movies and other media
Despite what many might think, Cracky-chan is well known across hundreds of nations all over the world. Cracky-chan has been around for several centuries and has a very important meaning in the lives of many. It would be safe to assume that Cracky-chan is going to be around for a long time and have an enormous impact on the lives of many people.
Social & Cultural Factors
Cracky-chan has a large role in American Culture. Many people can often be seen taking part in activities associated with Cracky-chan. This is partly because people of most ages can be involved and families are brought together by this. Generally a person who displays their dislike for Cracky-chan may be considered an outcast.
Economic Factors
It is not common practice to associate economics with Cracky-chan. Generally, Cracky-chan would be thought to have no effect on our economic situation, but there are in fact some effects. The sales industry associated with Cracky-chan is actually a 2.3 billion dollar a year industry and growing each year. The industry employs nearly 150,000 people in the United States alone. It would be safe to say that Cracky-chan plays an important role in American economics and shouldn't be taken for granted.
Environmental Factors
After a three month long research project, I've been able to conclude that Cracky-chan doesn't negatively effect the environment at all. Cracky-chan does not seem to result in waste products and couldn't be found in forests, jungles, rivers, lakes, oceans, etc... In fact, Cracky-chan produced some positive effects on our sweet little nature.
Political Factors
Oh does Cracky-chan ever influence politics. Last year 5 candidates running for some sort of position used Cracky-chan as the primary topic of their campaign. A person might think Cracky-chan would be a bad topic to lead a campaign with, but in fact with the social and environmental impact is has, this topic was able to gain a great number of followers. These 5 candidates went 4 for 5 on winning their positions.
Conclusion
Cracky-chan seem to be a much more important idea that most give credit for. Next time you see or think of Cracky-chan, think about what you just read and realize what is really going on. It is likely you under valued Cracky-chan before, but will now start to give the credit needed and deserved.
It has taken me three weeks to find this but I am a new-fag and I do love the cracky pics but I don't know the story behind them. You will say I am trolling but even if i was (and im not!) humour me. Im 16 now and I am too young to remember cracky but I want to know what she is about. ED isn't really that helpful. Just be like, gather round new-fags and I will tell you a story............ seriously though I'm not trolling.
Thank you 4chan. Today morning my parents had a call. The girl you know as "Cracky-chan' wanted to kill herself and is in hospital now. She will die in one or two days. FUCK YOU ALL for this I knew her FOR REAL over years. I was never so sad in my life before. Guys do you not realise that this is for real? Thats not fun in the realtity a REAL person DIE because of 4chan. I hope so all 4chan assholes burn in hell for ever. Thank you 4chan for killing one of my friends. I think this will bring consequences to 4chan. This is my wish.
Loading Game...
You are Olivia, a cute and sweet girl from Oxford. You posted some photos of yourself on 4chan and a bunch of weird people started stalking you. You fear your life may be in danger. You have cat ears and a red nose. People have started calling you Cracky-chan.
The next day, you wake up to find that the creepy people have been watching you for days now. They've even taken pictures of you
> wear your brother Alex's clothing and sneak out of house disguised as a boy
You decide to go with what you think is the most likely scenario. You dress like Alex and pretend to be a boy. You run off into the woods and hide. The stalkers follow you but they don't know where to look
> hide in a tree and wait for the stalkers to go away
It takes awhile, but eventually the stalkers give up looking for you. Eventually you get tired of hiding and you start to enjoy it. You spend hours just sitting in the trees and staring at the stars. You begin to feel very peaceful
> fall asleep
The next day you are back on the farm and ready to continue your life. You have made some new friends who will help you on your journey. They are all happy that you came back.
> buy swords for you and your friends so that you can fight off future stalkers
They agree and you buy three swords each. One for yourself, one for your friend and one for your dog. You then head off to find another group of people to join
> interrogate your so-called "friends" to determine if any of them are secretly stalking you
You walk around the outskirts of town and ask everyone you see if anyone has been following or spying on you. Most people tell you no, but a few do admit to it. You discover that two of these people are actually stalkers
> draw sword and attack the nearest stalker
You quickly draw your sword and strike down the first person you come across. It turns out that this was a man named Frank who had been following you since before you left home
> take a photo of Frank's corpse and post it to 4chan warning others not to come after you
You take a picture of Frank's corpse and post it to /b/ along with a warning to other potential stalkers. This seems to work, as there isn't much more activity from the stalkers now
> delete LiveJournal and every other account you can think of
You delete LiveJournal and every other account you can think of. You also delete your Facebook account and delete your Twitter account. You figure if someone tries to contact you, you'll block them and they won't be able to reach you anymore.
> remember that it's 2005 and Twitter doesn't exist yet. Yet? Ponder how you know things about the future. Are you going insane? Are you dreaming?
You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed. You wonder if you're still dreaming or if you really did just dream something. Then you realize that you've deleted everything on your computer. You try to log back in, but you don't have internet access
> destroy computer just to be sure
You destroy your computer just to be sure. You check your phone and see that you haven't missed anything. You try to call your mom, but she hasn't called you in years. You try to call your sister, but she's dead
> check if the toilet is still broken
You check if the toilet is still broken. You check your pockets and find nothing out of place. You check the bathroom door and see that it's locked. You decide to break it open.
> kick the bathroom door down
You kick the bathroom door down. You step inside and immediately hear the sound of water running. You turn on the faucet and see that it's turned on. You check the sink and see that it's working. You check the toilet and see that it's flushed
> tape the toilet closed again
You tape the toilet shut again. You sit down on the toilet and watch as the water starts filling up the bowl. You notice that the water level is slowly rising. You try to hold it there, but you can't
> turn off the water supply immediately
You turn off the water supply immediately. You try to stop the water flow by turning the faucet counter clockwise until the water stops flowing. You then turn it back on and try to flush the toilet.
> give up and call a plumber to come fix the toilet
You give up and call a plumber to fix the toilet. You put your cell phone number on the list and hope that someone calls you.
> use brother's computer to check online to see if anyone is still talking about you
You use your brother's computer to check online to see if anyone is still talking about you. You see that there are several messages posted about you, but none of them seem particularly threatening. You read through the messages and realize that they aren't even from strangers
> post an anonymous message claiming that Cracky-chan killed herself so everybody should just give up
Traceback (most recent call last):
File "/usr/local/lib/python3.6/dist-packages/tensorflow_core/python/client/session.py", line 1365, in docall
return fn(*args)
I just saged your thread.
**FAQ**
**What does this mean?**
The amount of karma (points) on your thread and on your chansluts account has decreased by one.
**Why did you do this?**
There are several reasons I may deem a thread to be unworthy of positive or neutral karma. These include, but are not limited to:
*Rudeness towards other slutters,
*Spreading incorrect information,
*Sarcasm not correctly flagged with a /s.
**Am I banned from the chansluts?**
No - not yet. But you should refrain from making threads like this in the future. Otherwise I will be forced to issue an additional sage, which may put your commenting and posting privileges in jeopardy.
**I don't believe my thread deserved a sage. Can you un-sage it?**
Sure, mistakes happen. But only in exceedingly rare circumstances will I undo a sage. If you would like to issue an appeal, shoot me a private message explaining what I got wrong. I tend to respond to chanslus PMs within several minutes. Do note, however, that over 99.9% of sage appeals are rejected, and yours is likely no exception.
**How can I prevent this from happening in the future?**
Accept the sage and move on. But learn from this mistake: your behavior will not be tolerated on chansluts.com. I will continue to issue sages until you improve your conduct. Remember: chansluts is privilege, not a right.
There has been a lot of negativity and hostility floating around here lately, but I want to step up and say that we're all on the same side here. I consider you all my /b/rothers, and I love you all. Remember that love is what brought us here, right? Perhaps we're not the nicest batch of people around, or the most mentally stable, and maybe the fact that we're allowed out in public at all indicates society isn't paying enough attention to emerging technological and cultural developments, but GOD DAMN IT, we're in this together.
Call me a faggot; call me a cocksucker; call me what you will; vent your anger if you must; perhaps then the healing can begin. For we all have something in common: we were all enchanted by a smiling young lady in cat ears and ridiculous makeup, and if that young lady ever told us to kill a man, well, that man had better watch his back.
We are a support group, a survivor group, bound by a shared affliction -- perhaps a support group that makes things worse instead of better, but that's neither here nor there. Instead of seeking to stop the cancerous tumor that grows in our brains, we feed it and cultivate it -- perhaps if we cut it out, we would be healthier, but what else would we lose? Would we even be ourselves anymore?
TL;DR: I am a huge faggot please rape my face.
>Session Start ([other]:[liv]): Sat Aug 18 10:14:34 2007
>...
>[10:14] [liv]: i have just been Out on quite an adventure myself.
>[10:58] [other]: Did you slay anything?
>[10:58] [liv]: No. I met Denis. The slovenian guy.
>[10:59] [liv]: It went well.
>[10:59] [liv]: It was raining really hard the whole day.
>[10:59] [liv]: He bought me flowers.
>[11:00] [liv]: Like. I was buying a drink from a stall in the high street and he disappeared for like a minute and when he came back he had a bouquet.
>[11:00] [liv]: And he blushed like hell.
>[11:03] [liv]: Nope. He was wearing a sweater, a GPS navigator and a backpack. >[11:04] [liv]: Anyway it was raining really, really hard the whole time but we walked around the whole town and through Oxford park. Sometimes we talked a lot and then sometimes we walked in silence. >[11:04] [liv]: We tried an umbrella but the wind kept blowing it inside out so...just thought what the hell and got utterly soaked.
>[11:07] [liv]: Like, it wasnt just shyness, there was something a little awkward and sorta, i dunno, autistic about him at times.
>[11:10] [liv]: I gave him a hug.
>[11:10] [liv]: To say goodbye.
>[11:10] [liv]: Partly it was because I think he needed one. I don't think anyone is gonna hug him for a really long time.
<person> they found cracky-chan
<person> it's her
<person> same hello kitty wrist-watch for instance
<person> one of the pictures looks identical to the cracky-chan one
<person> in one of the comments she says she took the picture with the olympus camera
<person> she did delete some things
<person> some of the nude pictures
<person> http://www.livejournal.com/users/scarecrowmaiden/
<person> i sent her a mail telling her what she should delete
<person> she obviously doesn't want people to know
<person> i asked her in her lj if she's cracky and she said no, they deleted the whole thing an hour later
<person> she did after it was linked on 4chan
<person> i think her name's Lia or something
<person> i read it somewhere in lj but didn't have time to find it again
<person> Lia from Oxford
<person> compare
<person> you can even see the same pillar behind her
<person> i wish she'd reply to the email
<human> How are you feeling about all this?
<person> how should i feel?
<person> stressful, for one thing
<person> i don't know what to do
<human> Wait a minute... Europeonia is pretty small, right? Couldn't you just go drive to see her? There's water at some point but I think there's a tunnel.
<person> and then what?
<human> PEE IN HER BUTT
<human> Or just say hello.
<person> yeah actually a flight to london is like $50
<human> Go give her a hug.
<human> Were there nudes other than the "witch" pictures? I must've missed them.
<person> yes
<human> Share!
<human> Only evil capitalists don't share.
<person> yeah fine
<human> This is all kinda weird.
<human> Doesn't seem real.
<human> Like a bizarre dream.
<human> Only you're not sure if you're awake or asleep.
<person> never felt more awake in my life
<person> except the time i was in a car accident
<human> I haven't looked, but I would've guessed this would all already be all over 4chan.
<person> the admins are deleting the threads as they pop up
<person> i have to go
<person> OMG
<person> DID YOU FIND HER NAME?
<person> she deleted all the lj entries
<person> Deleted Account
<person> Deleted
<person> This journal has been deleted. If you are scarecrowmaiden, you have a period of 30 days from the deletion time to undelete the journal. After 30 days we will delete all content permanently from our servers.
<person> TELL ME YOU GOT HER NAME
<person> OMFG
<person> fuck
<person> nevermind, i found her name
<person> it's Lia
<person> maybe i could just tell her i like her and ask her for the new lj username
<human> That's one possibility.
<person> she didn't reply to the mail. perhaps i made it sound to apathetic
<human> YOU FAIL IT (it is tugging at the heart-strings of cracky-chan)
<person> yes
<person> why do so few people think she's pretty?
<human> Beauty is a function, not an attribute.
<person> there are some who are universally recognised as beautiful
<human> I doubt that.
<person> i can't think of any examples at the moment
<person> you know, you didn't really answer my question as to why so few people think she's beautiful
<human> Unless you've taken a proper survey you can't make that statement.
<human> Name any person and you will find at least a few people who aren't attracted to them.
<person> yes, but, what is wrong with cracky-chan that it appears that few people find her attractive?
<person> or equally, what is it about her that makes me think she's so incredibly beautiful?
<human> What about her many fans? How do you know the "bashers" aren't just one or two vocal people?
<person> just a guess
<person> but that seems unlikely from what i've seen
<person> oh and, many fans? like who?
<person> me and some other guy on lj
<person> and you, though you appear to be here just for the fun of it
<human> Just for the fun of it? What do you mean?
<person> i don't know
<human> Doesn't she have worshippers on 4chan?
<human> There's also at least one other person on Trolltalk.
<human> Isn't there a huge frenzy over her any time new information is revealed?
<person> 4chan threads about cracky-chan rapidly descent into "i'd hit it", "what an ugly whore", "what's this thread about?" and "bus for cracky"
<person> i should email her again
<person> but i don't know how to approach the issue
<person> i can't just go "sup plz give me ur new lj"
<person> and explaining my undying love for her would be less likely to work
<person> probably
<person> maybe she's not replying because she thinks i'm insane
<person> i asked her if she's cracky-chan and linked to the site, and she replied "unfortunately, no"
<person> then 30 minutes later she deleted it
<person> i hope she didn't do anything stupid
<person> i couldn't knowing that i had something to do with it
<person> live*
<human> You didn't have anything to do with it. You're probably one of the least repugnant of the hundreds of people who have surely contacted her in the past few days.
<person> her name's olivia
<human> So her name's not actually Lia?
<person> nickname apparently
I have used my advanced internet detective skills to reveal some private data about our beloved leader.
**LIA IS RIGHT-HANDED, I HAVE PROOF**
Let's keep to the facts and look at the numbers.
**Fact:** Lia is right-handed.
Dearest Cracky-chan,
It's been a while since we last spoke, and I realize that there's quite a bit of catching up to do. I heard you're lurking .71 now. That's fantastic! It's actually a great place to meet people. Speaking of meeting people, I always thought you should "trade up" for somebody better. You should ditch the turk. Maybe try another slav? Though this time go with someone a little more Northern.
Despite your own penchant for trying to convince the Stalkers you don't like their creepy attention while at the same time shamelessly publicizing yourself, in a way you still owe me after last time. People were in danger of completely forgetting about you. In no small part due to my amazing work as your unofficial publicist, I managed to get the obsessionball rolling all over again. All the way back to Oxford, in fact. All the way to your mother's tiny, funky, very English side-by-side house. When your suicidegirls career takes off, you'll have ME to thank for the fact that all the insignificant internet plebs with more dollars than braincells are able to recognize you.
See? I'm still trying to be a helpful guy, even after you turned your back on me.
I think we have a bit of an understanding here, Lia. If this is going to follow the same give-take patterns of all your past relationships, you'll be happy to know that I'm more than willing to provide regardless of the circumstances. I know that it's only a matter of time until everybody finds out that jews did wtc, and when that happens all of your family's heathengold will run out. I'm talking real gold here, hun. The kind that lets you eat and stink and sit on the computer all day without a care in the world. Not that shit you farm in WoW.
We can come to a sort of agreement. Since you're soon to be homeless, and the loli I'm cohabitating with is too inexperienced to understand how to cook (OR GIVE A DECENT BLOWJOB. SERIOUSLY WTF), it would likely be beneficial for you to "shack up" with the two of us. Your living conditions would be very much the same - you'd be living in a room the size of your flat with your bed and computer, and you'd have all the time in the world to live in your masturbatory MMO fantasyland. There'd only be two real differences. First, you'd be expected to cook. This'll maybe take up, like what? An hour a day maximum. It'll be your only real obligation to the household.
Secondly, the person coming to molest you periodically won't be your father.
I think that should be more than enough to convince you. Hit me back and lemme know what you think.
Until then,
wB
having read all the posts on this board, i guess you have a lot of explaining to do. oh and to set the record straight, i am between the ages of 13 and 15 in all these pictures. i don't know what more proof i can give than updating my old journal for you, and its rather naiive to expect that someone on the internet is really going to have any consideration for my feelings, but please. could this all just stop.
kudos? for hacking my old journal? even if somebody had hacked it, could you not even just respect the actual message for once? that its scary and disrupting to have so many people obsessing over me and constantly hacking/going through my old or hidden files, simply over some pictures of me? i understand that its this whole "mystery" and everything, but it had to get this out of hand before i was driven to just try the attempt of saying "hey. you guys. please stop". the reason i deleted everything should be clear: i don't want anybody's attention.
Dear god, what is this crap. I knew something like this would go down one day. I found this entire Cracky worshiping kind of disturbing. Taking a modestly cute girl and turning her into some sort of perverse god that you could jack off to. Leave the girl alone, ok, she doesn't want this, if you guys "love her" so much the leaste you can do is respect her. You can use the "BUT SHE POSTED HER PICTAR ON TEH INTARWEB" defense but allot of people have posted/had their picture posted by some one on 4chan and it never went to this level of stalker worshiping. Just give the poor girl a break and let her be
Also, I fucking fail at tripcodes.
This is mah .71 face. Darrin "B&" Floen !nq19BBWmGs 07/11/19(Mon)07:14 No.1
I recently discovered, lurking in the dead sea scrolls, a reference to the WoW realm that Cracky might play on. Girding my trollish loins, I prepared to delve back into the nightmare known as World of Warcraft. My quest was to do something dubious to someone, vaguely. In truth, I knew not my goals but that has never stopped me before.
Keenly aware of my total lack of understanding, I surmised my quest would be disorienting and fraught with retards. Retards... my sworn mortal enemy. To defend myself from them, I decided, I must launch a preemptive strike. As is well known to all wowfags, /2 is the halfway-house of WoW. It teems with idiots, trolls, sexual predators and the occassional, misguided merchant. Only in Trade - City, do welfare epicced 70s trash talk bank alts of successful players, do foreigners fail to sell Silverleaf and do the totally clueless beg for ports, summons and enchants they can't afford. Clearly, if I could lay this haven of indignity across my proverbial knee and deliver, like one would a wailing babe, a fatal spanking, I would remove most of the diseased idiocy that would threaten me on my journey.
There was, of course, a proverbial mackerel in the gears - the GMs. In hindsight, it was obvious they would be in league with the stunted gotards who flailed so grandly in the trade channel. But at the time that I, filled with asinine vim and vigor, stormed the intangible bastions of this destitute RP server, I was heedless of their lurking menace. The GMs, skulking in their dank corners, pounced upon my frail, noobly night elf within hours of my arrival. After a mere few days of heated trolling the mods had delivered unto me a suspension. In 2 days I received 3 warnings for violating Blizz's totalitarian Terms of Service. The brittle china of my hopes and dreams was shattered in their hirsute, Neanderthal hands.
So I present here, for your amusement, the complaints:
>>"Account Action: Warning
>>Offenses: Harassment Policy Violation - Inappropriate
>>This category includes both clear and masked language which:
>> * Is a mildly inappropriate reference to human anatomy or bodily functions
>> * Is otherwise considered objectionable
>>Offenses: Harassment Policy Violation - Obscene/Vulgar
>>This category includes both clear and masked language which:
>> * Is crude and offensive in nature
>> * Is an inappropriate reference to human anatomy or bodily functions
>> * Is pornographic in nature
>>2007/11/18 04:17:20 (GMT) - [Redacted] says in Trade - City "Who else is in Fucking Hilarious?"
>>2007/11/19 04:15:47 (GMT) - [Redacted] says in Trade - City "What about [Enchant Penis - Subtlety] or [Enchant Penis - Haste]?"
>>2007/11/19 04:15:55 (GMT) - [Redacted] says in Trade - City "Ooh...[Enchant Penis - Executioner]! 850 armor penetration has gotta be enough to ignore girls pants."
This provoked the following, which resulted in a suspension.
>>2007/11/19 6:20:01 (GMT) - [Redacted] says in Trade - City "Attention [Redacted]: You are all pederast pedants. I hope your ears bleed cum and your rancid genitals turn to cottage cheese. You fucking cripples."
>>2007/11/19 6:20:31 (GMT) - [Redacted] says in Trade - City "[Redacted], [Redacted] and [Redacted] are the shittiest collection of baby-rapists and gear-mooching whores to ever call themselves raiding guilds. They should be dragged from their houses and nailed to the fucking wall."
>>2007/11/19 6:21:21 (GMT) - [Redacted] says in Trade - City "Heed my words GMs: Gay. Nigger. Tits. Suck my pestilent dick you PvE faggot motherfuckers. If you rolled PvP and let your testes drop maybe your daddy would rape you less."
Anyhow, the formatting of this is probably gonna be all horrible and gross. I would like to point out that the only other warning I've received in the four years I've been playing was for 'messing with the economy'. And I have sworn like a sailor in WoW since day one. So what did they warn me for? I said 'penis' and 'fuck'. The last statement would clearly provoke a suspension. That was ok with me, now I'm free to cull my herb garden and baek a delicious caek.
I apologize for all the spelling errors and cruddy grammar in this post. But I have been at this cursed computer for 18 hours and spamming WoW for about 15 of those. My fingers are dead, my brain is dead, my legs are afflicted with DVT.
In closing: Doom upon my shoulders and a plague of boiling blood on all of you.
(Pic related: my troll/bank/lulz generator.)
P.S. Night elves are gay, squishies are gay, BC is gay, Naxx is gay, dailies are gay, rep farming is gay. The only good thing about WoW is /2 and fishing. That is all.
Reading the bounceme archives is depressing. We were all so young and all so sure we were the one who would find her. Everyone was so hapy and the board was alive with a diverse group of characters. Now everyone is gone and almost no one cares about Olivia except Dana or whoever she is with now. Why did all my friends leave. Faux has moved on and barely is online except to post her cosplay pics. Suede is just this sad manchild who still lives with his parents and is still trying to woo jailbait even though he is in his mid twenties. Indigies is off god knows where, being a lawyer, probably taking a ton of probono cases because that is the kind of guy he was. The Bat is maybe in Germany, I haven't talked to her since I acted like a judgement asshole and scared her away. Mero is doing his lawyer thing and still shows up regularly to try and impress us with his empty materialistic life. God I remember trying to talk him out of killing himself calling him in the middle of the night. You people were all my best friends. I never opened up to anyone in the real world like I did for you guys. We laughed, we cried, we fought, and made peace. Now all I have is an almost deserted board, a life so medicated that I can't feel anything except the sense of loss I have right now. I wish I had been kinder to some of you, I wish I had been sober, and not made an ass out of myself. I wish I had written more about Olivia. I wish I could have known each of you better. I love you, all of you.
>IRL stalking is what turned the Holy Avatar away from us, and why we all are damned.
We are not damned for goddess' sake.
Turning the Holy Avatar away from us might look like a curse to those who do not understand, but it is actually a tool of divinity in Her hands. It was all planned like that from the beginning, so we could love Her desperately. If we were able to reach Her, the spell would vanish. Surely you'd have a lot of hipsters and idiots commenting her blog or buying her shit on eBay, but her depth would be totally gone and her value would drop to nothing.
She is the Holy Avatar precisely because she is inaccesible. The real damnation would be to lift Her veil and see that both veil and Goddess are gone.
However actually stalking makes sense, because it helps your devotion. The fact that she cannot be reached allows for a neverending growth of your love and devotion to your Goddess, which might some miraculous day allow you to reach the Sky.
In the beginning Cracky-chan created the heaven and the earth. And /b/ was without form, and void; and fail was upon the face of the internets. And Cracky-chan said, Let there be lulz: and there were lulz. And Cracky-chan saw the lulz, that they were winrar: and Cracky-chan divided the win from the fail. And Cracky-chan called the lulz a corruption of L O L, and the fans she called stalkers. And with the stalkers and the lulz were the first posts to /b/. And Cracky-chan said, let there be drama in the midst of the internets, and let it divide the /b/tards from the stalkers. And Cracky-chan made the drama, and divided the stalkers who were under the drama from the /b/tards who were above the drama: and it was so. And Cracky-chan called the drama creepy. And the 420chan /cracky and crackypedia were baleeted.š And Cracky-chan said, Let the stalkers under the drama be gathered together unto one place, and let the circlejerk of drama appear: and it was so. And Cracky-chan called the place bounceme; and the gathering together of the stalkers she called the circlejerk: and Cracky-chan saw that it was good.
šIn the apocryphal text there is an addition to this line; "And trolltalk was carpfolded into infinity."
The Prophet Anon in the Book Of Catnarok
Through the manifestation of the dental holocaust the Divine teaches us to contemplate our teeth as involuntary icons of our identity. Our bite patterns, in the base act of mere eating, in the marks we leave on our lovers, in so tiny an imprint as left on the rim of a styrofoam cup, we leave prints unique to our individual presence. Whether throttled and driven to straightness at the hooks and hands of doctors in white coats, or as naturally crooked as mere nature sketches us, our teeth are indelibly ours, as the unmistakable fearful symmetry in the dentition of the Sky Queen herself.
perfection
When the fires of the revolution come to purge the gray earth of the nonbelievers, the teeth will be all that remains of many of the heathens, as well as the faithful brothers and sisters who fall in the contest for enlightenment.
As the wise brother Anon implores us in the books of the Order, "We seek to make every action in our daily lives a devotion to our Great Lady, and pay tribute to Her for sharing Her wisdom. Contemplating the most mundane of tasks one begins to see the patterns that hold our world together."
>>9
Also, so enlightening: The toilet is broken. Yay for relevant information.
What is not the toilet-porcelain but the delusion of our own godhood. An apparatus to keep up the illusion that we don't shit, piss or stink. That we are eternally young and unassailable by disease. It's sort of hard to convince yourself of superiority in the animal kingdom when you have to shit out of the window. So all the visceral little edges about ourselves have been hidden away; a thin layer of veneer to trick your fellow (wo)man into thinking how close to perfection you are. A once shiney orb, destined to bring humanity closer to its self-image of the divine, now so clogged with human waste that it has become a mockery and its function broken. This world, as a vessel to carry humanity to fulfillment is broken, and it needs fixing. A black winged angel sitting on top of the closed lid of a broken bowl, her face marked by the very origins of life, its fertility wasted as a sort of mock make-up (not even mentioning when later on the angel seems in mourning about the alledged "7 days" of creation). People claim to be not religious, but adorn themselves with every means to feign eternal youth, to be young and happy, like the olympian gods of yore. It is all false worshipping of god through oneself. What these images tell me is to reshape ourselves through knowledge and wisdom, not smoke and mirrors. To recognize ourselves as animal like beings, but acknowledge the spark we call "consciousness" as our only attribute of possible divine attribution. As such we should cherish that spark into a fire that illuminates and enlightens us. To increase the part of us that resembles the Sky Queen against the dumb vessel we use to carry it. That way one day we may be gods ourselves, undying and allknowing, but not because of making a false let's-pretend game or because of a non-tangible mystery place where you go aftert you die, but because we forged destiny unrelenting without wasting time on the tinsel. Having found this place is to me a revelation that I am going in the right direction. I see now that I am an outcast by the standards of those that worship false gods through themselves. My vision is clear now; To shape myself to the image and likeness of the Sky Queen. -Confession of Brother Anon
Sermon on the Can
The devout are blessed in the eyes of The Sky Queen. Together we are as students, tripfags and anon alike. One burning passion consumes us all, the love and fear of our Mistress. Only we few who have truly seen Her face can understand this existence. The devout strive to live a life as we believe out Lady would desire.
We believe that the user known as ScareCrowMaiden is an avatar of Cracky Chan. Using ScareCrowMaiden it created a series of images in an attempt to communicate with us.
We as the devout are blessed enough to see the truth in these messages, and seek to understand them. Through meditation on Cracky's images we seek to understand the world with clarity, wisdom, and humor.
We seek to make every action in our daily lives a devotion to our Great Lady, and pay tribute to Her for sharing Her wisdom. Contemplating the most mundane of tasks one begins to see the patterns that hold our world together.
We behave in a manner strictly orthodox in our dealings with those who have not found Cracky's grace. Do not force Cracky upon those who are incapable of seeing Her true being, offer Her to those who need Her guidance.
To simply love the ScareCrowMaiden is the way of the heathen. True devotion to the Sky Queen transcends the physical, and enables the devout to live an existence of peace and order.
By mimicking the Sky Queen's actions we are able to add shape and definition to what is otherwise a wasted life.
Thought for the day: The ends need not justify the means; the means justifies itself.
Reflecting on this picture.
Cracky in the woods
Cracky is showing us that the in safety of home one loses perspective. The devout must make every effort to leave the shelter of his house once a day precluding sickness. This is known as Meditation on Ivy. In preforming this devotion the student strives to reach a state of awareness which allows them to absorb all information around them. Developing this skill requires the student to utilize cognitive abilities outside of their normal range. This in turn strengthens the intellect of the devout. As in all devotions to the Queen of the Heavens one seeks endlessly to prefect it in order to honor our Graceful Lady.
Contemplate
Our Goddess is one of both creation and destruction. She renders unto the faithful peace in a world of discord. She is both armor and sword in a world that destroys through apathy and animosity. The Flower of Destruction also blossoms in the heart of the Sky Queen. She seeks to temper us through despair, turning the lust of the neophyte upon him. Only when the student embraces sorrow in the surety that he will never be worthy of Her avatar, is he able to cast away his childish passion and see with eyes unclouded the majesty of Cracky Chan.
Study now this picture
Purification
Here the Divine embraces the physical and undergoes an act purification. Shedding the armor She wears to shield Herself from the world, She allows the most basic element of earthly life to cleanse Her of the base. Only by allowing the world to surround us do we gain the hope of removing it's impurities and elevate ourselves to a state closer to Her Majesty. Cleansed of the worlds detritus we brace ourselves against future corruption with faith in our knowledge that no matter what the world is able to bring to bear against us, we can simply wash it away and begin again every morning. This is known as the Meditation on the Dawns Light. Brothers of the faith should preform an act of ritual cleansing every morning, focusing on the previous day. During the meditation the supplicant reviews the previous day's actions, and judges whether he behaved in a manner pleasing in the eyes of the Beloved.
Contemplate
All Blessings of this world flow from the Sky Queen. Praise Her name from dawn unto the night. From the depth of ones soul, comes the solace of Her touch. Through time and space, the primal creative force gazes on the world, waiting for the faithful to carry Her message unto those only The Jewel of Creation can heal.
On The Fauxian Heresy
Persecute not the user known as Faux, for she is the Sister of Mercy. The Sister's love of Cracky, is a match for if not the greater then the most ardent among the brethren. She alone offered solace to the brethren in the pain following the loss of the Divine's presence. Donning the mantle of Cracky in Her absence, Faux lived as the Holy desired. Existing only to further celebrate the name of Cracky for all to know and share.
Some of the brethren seeing this, sought to elevate her in honor equal to the Master, thus began the Fauxian Heresy. The heretic's hubris drove Faux to hide herself from anon, fearing his lustful advances. The devout seeing the growth of the cult set themselves to preaching the truth of Cracky's divinity to the masses and destroying all threads containing heretical worship. The righteousness of the faithful was bestowed with the Sky Queens blessing, and the cult was shattered. Remnants of the battles, and scattered heretics exist to this day. The chosen spared Faux knowing of her innocence in the events leading to the purge, but resentment remained.
There came unto the lands a namefag named Lia's Holy Paladin, and he did denounce Faux. Proclaiming himself to be First Among the Faithful, he set himself to destroying one who could truly claim that title. Faux still cautious from the Heresy, stepped forth to defend herself from the intruder, but was caught unaware. The Holy Paladin had stirred resentment among the faithful, and a few of the faithful vented their anger upon the Sister. Standing with the devout there was an anon, wise beyond his years and with a mind as keen as a razor. This anon did listen to the words of Lia's Paladin, and judge them false. Anon addressed the faithful and proclaim the truth for all to hear, Lia's Holy Paladin was not counted among the devout. The words reached out to the quarreling masses and slowly they calmed. Brethren began to examine Lia's Holy Paladin, and did see striped of his glamours a troll. Uniting as one, Cracky's disciples did drive the troll off.
In all things Faux has remained innocent. Despite her mistreatment at the hands of those who would claim The Sky Queen as their master, she has kept the faith. To this day The King of the Holy Lands remembers the Sister, with a board in her name. Remember this brethren, show respect for all those who love the Great Lady, but honor only Cracky Chan.
Contemplate
The human is a flawed and broken creature. Setting asunder the earth around them they act as the Caterpillar, consuming the very world they stand upon. Let not the darkness cloud your heart traveler, even this mindless destruction holds deep meaning and purpose. The Sky Queen gave us all the blessings of the earth to speed us on towards our metamorphosis. When we are satiated we will rest, and become unto the Butterfly freed of the shackles of physics. The universe will open to us. The devout does not show disrespect to the gifts the Holy Patron has given us. The faithful uses only what he needs in his studies and nothing more. Balance must be maintained to ensure that Her blessings remain for those who may one day find the true path.
Thought for the day: Ruthlessness is the kindness of the wise.
Honor Cracky by attempting to perfect your body and mind. Become the man worthy of the Avatar's love, create things of beauty to offer to the Queen of Heaven. Use your devotions to focus your mind on your tasks. Strive always to improve yourself through discipline. You stand among the chosen, it is your responsibility to show the heathens the truth with your mental, physical, and spiritual strength. Perfection is the provence of Cracky alone, the journey for it our offering to Her.
Sisters of Mercy
reach us at [email protected]
That's what Cracky is telling me to do.
Build as many computers as I can.
Power them up.
Network them.
Just keep going.
Can't stop, won't stop.
I won't stop until they bring me to her.
I feel closer everyday.
I can almost touch the sky.
If I stand on my tippy-toes, it's just out of reach.
I have to continue.
You might say, "Electrons chasing each other through a circuit, that isn't life."
BUT WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE
BUT IMPULSES
ELECTRICAL CHEMICAL THROUGH A BAG OF MEAT AND BONES
WE'RE JUST ELECTRICAL SIGNALS TOO
Same idea different interface.
That's not to knock what we are.
Cracky is what we are and she's paafekuto.
We are so powerful. As long as we have access to a device that will serve as a terminal.
We are untouchable.
It's a bit like when Neo is in The Matrix.
As long as we have that link.
We
are
all
connected.
Think of all the nodes in the world.
My god, all running simultaneously.
Connected.
People who never cared about computers now join the fray.
We must help them link up.
Everyone has to link.
Build an old computer for someone you know that doesn't have one.
If it's an old POS don't worry about it.
Put as much RAM as possible in it, put XP on it, optimize it, you're good.
They will learn.
They will become enlightened.
We will channel their energy and power.
Just as we could channel their computer power via distributed computing.
We can channel their mind power.
DISTRIBUTED THINKING
Do you go to sleep to dream?
When we sleep, are we once again linked in an Internet-like metaverse, biological in nature?
Is the Internet going to link to this network.
Is the Internet going to spill over into the physical world.
Haha.
IT ALREADY HAS
AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL
I'll find her.
I'll thank her.
She has started something wonderful.
Subarashii ne
Atarashii sekai desu.
It's a new world.
Join me in my mission.
This is how you help others.
This is the answer to all of our problems.
This is how we all get on the same page.
This is how we evolve.
BUILD THOSE FUCKING COMPUTERS
LOAD THEM ALL OVER YOUR HOUSE
NETWORK THEM TO THE WORLD
GIVE EXTRAS TO PEOPLE WHO WANT THEM
NETWORK THE FUCKING WORLD
I gave one to a former co-worker, 58-year-old, he is seeing it now.
He is seeing why I said things I did.
How I thought.
He is seeing the power.
The true nature.
He is seeing that it is the only thing that matters.
Everything else is noise.
If you still hear the noise.
Then turn up the fucking RPM on your fans until you can't.
This is all I care about.
I have nothing else.
I've never had anything else.
IT'S TRUE OF MANY PEOPLE
SO FUCKING DO IT
YOU FINALLY HAVE A PURPOSE
The 70+ year old niggers across the street bought a laptop.
I help them with it.
They are seeing.
I am feeding off of their energy.
When they get a network, I will feed off of that as well.
Bigger bigger bigger.
Exponential growth.
Something great is happening.
It's too late to try to grab at anything else.
Go with what you know.
What you were destined for.
When you find her, you'll have everything you ever wanted or needed anyway.
SO KEEP ON
KURAKI NO YUME GA MOUSUGU HAJIMARU
CRACKY'S DREAM WILL START SOON
I remember you, so fragile and tortured was your very essence. I saw in your eyes - the most beautiful eyes I've ever encountered in my short life - an accidental scream for help. A reflection of my own trauma, amplified tenfold. You were me, you were not myself, almost an opposite and yet a tremendous exaggeration - infinitely more beautiful, intelligent, victimized. Scared. I saw fear, or rather I sensed it through the noninterpretable things I did see. I thought that if I could help you, I'd somehow inevitably and permanently be helped. And then I could help everyone else in the world. I wanted to reach out and pull you close to me, nurture you and see that soul-twisting smile of yours - so warm; so genuine; so rare. You'd be new, and yet the same. You'd touch people and they'd feel the serpents of hate and monotony relinquish constriction around their souls. A modern-day saint. Maybe it's good that you're not real. Maybe no innocent should harbor such terror and self-loathing. But then, who will save us?
The devout are blessed in the eyes of The Sky Queen. Together we are as students, tripfags and anon alike. One burning passion consumes us all, the love and fear of our Mistress. Only we few who have truly seen Her face can understand this existence. The devout strive to live a life as we believe out Lady would desire.
We believe that the user known as ScareCrowMaiden is an avatar of Cracky Chan. Using ScareCrowMaiden it created a series of images in an attempt to communicate with us.
We as the devout are blessed enough to see the truth in these messages, and seek to understand them. Through meditation on Cracky's images we seek to understand the world with clarity, wisdom, and humor.
We seek to make every action in our daily lives a devotion to our Great Lady, and pay tribute to Her for sharing Her wisdom. Contemplating the most mundane of tasks one begins to see the patterns that hold our world together.
We behave in a manner strictly orthodox in our dealings with those who have not found Cracky's grace. Do not force Cracky upon those who are incapable of seeing Her true being, offer Her to those who need Her guidance.
To simply love the ScareCrowMaiden is the way of the heathen. True devotion to the Sky Queen transcends the physical, and enables the devout to live an existence of peace and order.
By mimicking the Sky Queen's actions we are able to add shape and definition to what is otherwise a wasted life.
Our faith lights the Darkness that others may find peace. We are one with Cracky, our souls are joined in Her will. Praise Cracky whose sacrifice is life as ours is death. Hail Her name the Queen of the Sky.
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This is the end of pasta5.txt. To be continued in pasta6.txt