T1me To Over Throw Most Replies!!!

[chosen]

that sentence says (i think)

i am bored. are there any other people on this forum who are bored. i got an F in spanish II so dont hate me.

[subsonic87]

that sentence says (i think)

i am bored. are there any other people on this forum who are bored. i got an F in spanish II so dont hate me. Hey, that's pretty good. Except the second sentence merely says "are there any other people in this forum." Close, though.

[chosen]

i try

[kristine]

I just got the same ( Hoodlum Intake strikes you down! Lose 2 HP.) bad rep thing last night, for a post in TTOTMR saying a baby was cute.

To that I saw- who really cares?! Rep points dont really mean anything to me, so whoever it was, sorry didnt bother me-try again.

PS- only P 284, you guys have a lot of work a head of you. And MR did it for the most part without having to turbo post.... Guess we're just the superior thread :P

[subsonic87]

Chosen, yo tuve sinco o seis años en mi clase de Epsañol, pero no estoy muy bueno a hablar. Tu, probablemente, aprendi mucho mas en dos años que yo.

[subsonic87]

PS- only P 284, you guys have a lot of work a head of you. And MR did it for the most part without having to turbo post.... Guess we're just the superior thread :P
Never do it? That's what they said about MR in the beginning. Go underdogs!

[subsonic87]

Quiero a MUniar (I just made that verb up!), pero yo tengo que trabajar, y hay lluvia probablamente.

[kristine]

Never do it? That's what they said about MR in the beginning. Go underdogs!
I never said you couldnt do it..
I just said MR was superior.
Lets not fight tho-afterall... it is just a thread (s)

[forrestunifreak]

oh, I say this is all out war.

the nice kind. with a smilie. :) acctually that was faked

[kristine]

oh, I say this is all out war.

the nice kind. with a smilie. :) acctually that was faked
now back to MR...
hahahahahaha

[subsonic87]

oh, I say this is all out war.

the nice kind. with a smilie. :)acctually that was faked
Bring it on. :p

[subsonic87]

A message to all TTOMRers, turbo-post! Do your part to defeat the evil monolith that is MR!

[subsonic87]

LATER on Raskolnikov happened to find out why the huckster and his
wife had invited Lizaveta. It was a very ordinary matter and there was
nothing exceptional about it. A family who had come to the town and
been reduced to poverty were selling their household goods and
clothes, all women's things. As the things would have fetched little
in the market, they were looking for a dealer. This was Lizaveta's
business. She undertook such jobs and was frequently employed, as
she was very honest and always fixed a fair price and stuck to it. She
spoke as a rule little and, as we have said already, she was very
submissive and timid.
But Raskolnikov had become superstitious of late. The traces of
superstition remained in him long after, and were almost ineradicable.
And in all this he was always afterwards disposed to see something
strange and mysterious, as it were the presence of some peculiar
influences and coincidences. In the previous winter a student he
knew called Pokorev, who had left for Harkov, had chanced in
conversation to give him the address of Alyona Ivanovna, the old
pawnbroker, in case he might want to pawn anything. For a long while
he did not go to her, for he had lessons and managed to get along
somehow. Six weeks ago he had remembered the address; he had two
articles that could be pawned: his father's old silver watch and a
little gold ring with three red stones, a present from his sister at
parting. He decided to take the ring. When he found the old woman he
had felt an insurmountable repulsion for her at the first glance,
though he knew nothing special about her. He got two roubles from
her and went into a miserable little tavern on his way home. He
asked for tea, sat down and sank into deep thought. A strange idea was
pecking at his brain like a chicken in the egg, and very, very much
absorbed him.
Almost beside him at the next table there was sitting a student,
whom he did not know and had never seen, and with him a young officer.
They had played a game of billiards and began drinking tea. All at
once he heard the student mention to the officer the pawnbroker Alyona
Ivanovna and give him her address. This of itself seemed strange to
Raskolnikov; he had just come from her and here at once he heard her
name. Of course it was a chance, but he could not shake off a very
extraordinary impression, and here some one seemed to be speaking
expressly for him; the student began telling his friend various
details about Alyona Ivanovna.

[subsonic87]

"She is first rate," he said. "You can always get money from her.
She is as rich as a Jew, she can give you five thousand roubles at a
time and she is not above taking a pledge for a rouble. Lots of our
fellows have had dealings with her. But she is an awful old harpy...."
And he began describing how spiteful and uncertain she was, how if
you were only a day late with your interest the pledge was lost; how
she gave a quarter of the value of an article and took five and even
seven percent a month on it and so on. The student chattered on,
saying that she had a sister Lizaveta, whom the wretched little
creature was continually beating, and kept in complete bondage like
a small child, though Lizaveta was at least six feet high.
"There's a phenomenon for you," cried the student and he laughed.
They began talking about Lizaveta. The student spoke about her
with a peculiar relish and was continually laughing and the officer
listened with great interest and asked him to send Lizaveta to do some
mending for him. Raskolnikov did not miss a word and learned
everything about her. Lizaveta was younger than the old woman and
was her half-sister, being the child of a different mother. She was
thirty-five. She worked day and night for her sister, and besides
doing the cooking and the washing, she did sewing and worked as a
charwoman and gave her sister all she earned. She did not dare to
accept an order or job of any kind without her sister's permission.
The old woman had already made her will, and Lizaveta knew of it,
and by this will she would not get a farthing; nothing but the
movables, chairs and so on; all the money was left to a monastery in
the province of N___, that prayers might be said for her in
perpetuity. Lizaveta was of lower rank than her sister, unmarried
and awfully uncouth in appearance, remarkably tall with long feet that
looked as if they were bent outwards. She always wore battered
goatskin shoes, and was clean in her person. What the student
expressed most surprise and amusement about was the fact that Lizaveta
was continually with child.
"But you say she is hideous?" observed the officer.
"Yes, she is so dark-skinned and looks like a soldier dressed up,
but you know she is not at all hideous. She has such a good-natured
face and eyes. Strikingly so. And the proof of it is that lots of
people are attracted by her. She is such a soft, gentle creature,
ready to put up with anything, always willing, willing to do anything.
And her smile is really very sweet."

[subsonic87]

"You seem to find her attractive yourself," laughed the officer.
"From her queerness. No, I'll tell you what. I could kill that
damned old woman and make off with her money, I assure you, without
the faintest conscience-prick," the student added with warmth. The
officer laughed again while Raskolnikov shuddered. How strange it was!
"Listen, I want to ask you a serious question," the student said
hotly. "I was joking of course, but look here; on one side we have a
stupid, senseless, worthless, spiteful, ailing, horrid old woman,
not simply useless but doing actual mischief, who has not an idea what
she is living for herself, and who will die in a day or two in any
case. You understand? You understand?"
"Yes, yes, I understand," answered the officer, watching his excited
companion attentively.
"Well, listen then. On the other side, fresh young lives thrown away
for want of help and by thousands, on every side! A hundred thousand
good deeds could be done and helped, on that old woman's money which
will be buried in a monastery! Hundreds, thousands perhaps, might be
set on the right path; dozens of families saved from destitution, from
ruin, from vice, from the Lock hospitals- and all with her money. Kill
her, take her money and with the help of it devote oneself to the
service of humanity and the good of all. What do you think, would
not one tiny crime be wiped out by thousands of good deeds? For one
life thousands would be saved from corruption and decay. One death,
and a hundred lives in exchange- it's simple arithmetic! Besides, what
value has the life of that sickly, stupid, ill-natured old woman in
the balance of existence! No more than the life of a louse, of a black
beetle, less in fact because the old woman is doing harm. She is
wearing out the lives of others; the other day she bit Lizaveta's
finger out of spite; it almost had to be amputated."
"Of course she does not deserve to live," remarked the officer, "but
there it is, it's nature."
"Oh, well, brother, but we have to correct and direct nature, and,
but for that, we should drown in an ocean of prejudice. But for
that, there would never have been a single great man. They talk of
duty, conscience- I don't want to say anything against duty and
conscience;- but the point is what do we mean by them. Stay, I have
another question to ask you. Listen!"

[subsonic87]

"No, you stay, I'll ask you a question. Listen!"
"Well?"
"You are talking and speechifying away, but tell me, would you
kill the old woman yourself?"
"Of course not! I was only arguing the justice of it.... It's
nothing to do with me...."
"But I think, if you would not do it yourself, there's no justice
about it.... Let us have another game."
Raskolnikov was violently agitated. Of course, it was all ordinary
youthful talk and thought, such as he had often heard before in
different forms and on different themes. But why had he happened to
hear such a discussion and such ideas at the very moment when his
own brain was just conceiving... the very same ideas? And why, just at
the moment when he had brought away the embryo of his idea from the
old woman had he dropped at once upon a conversation about her? This
coincidence always seemed strange to him. This trivial talk in a
tavern had an immense influence on him in his later action; as
though there had really been in it something preordained, some guiding
hint....
-
On returning from the Hay Market he flung himself on the sofa and
sat for a whole hour without stirring. Meanwhile it got dark; he had
no candle and, indeed, it did not occur to him to light up. He could
never recollect whether he had been thinking about anything at that
time. At last he was conscious of his former fever and shivering,
and he realised with relief that he could lie down on the sofa. Soon
heavy, leaden sleep came over him, as it were crushing him.
He slept an extraordinarily long time and without dreaming.
Nastasya, coming into his room at ten o'clock the next morning, had
difficulty in rousing him. She brought him in tea and bread. The tea
was again the second brew and again in her own tea-pot.
"My goodness, how he sleeps!" she cried indignantly. "And he is
always asleep."
He got up with an effort. His head ached, he stood up, took a turn
in his garret and sank back on the sofa again.
"Going to sleep again," cried Nastasya. "Are you ill, eh?"
He made no reply.
"Do you want some tea?"

[subsonic87]

"Afterwards," he said with an effort, closing his eyes again and
turning to the wall.
Nastasya stood over him.
"Perhaps he really is ill," she said, turned and went out. She
came in again at two o'clock with soup. He was lying as before. The
tea stood untouched. Nastasya felt positively offended and began
wrathfully rousing him.
"Why are you lying like a log?" she shouted, looking at him with
repulsion.
He got up, and sat down again, but said nothing and stared at the
floor.
"Are you ill or not?" asked Nastasya and again received no answer.
"You'd better go out and get a breath of air," she said after a pause.
"Will you eat it or not?"
"Afterwards," he said weakly. "You can go."
And he motioned her out.
She remained a little longer, looked at him with compassion and went
out.
A few minutes afterwards, he raised his eyes and looked for a long
while at the tea and the soup. Then he took the bread, took up a spoon
and began to eat.

[subsonic87]

He ate a little, three or four spoonfuls, without appetite as it
were mechanically. His head ached less. After his meal he stretched
himself on the sofa again, but now he could not sleep; he lay
without stirring, with his face in the pillow. He was haunted by
daydreams and such strange daydreams; in one, that kept recurring,
he fancied that he was in Africa, in Egypt, in some sort of oasis. The
caravan was resting, the camels were peacefully lying down; the
palms stood all around in a complete circle; all the party were at
dinner. But he was drinking water from a spring which flowed
gurgling close by. And it was so cool, it was wonderful, wonderful,
blue, cold water running among the parti-coloured stones and over
the clean sand which glistened here and there like gold.... Suddenly
he heard a clock strike. He started, roused himself, raised his
head, looked out of the window, and seeing how late it was, suddenly
jumped up wide awake as though some one had pulled him off the sofa.
He crept on tiptoe to the door, stealthily opened it and began
listening on the staircase. His heart beat terribly. But all was quiet
on the stairs as if every one was asleep.... It seemed to him
strange and monstrous that he could have slept in such forgetfulness
from the previous day and had done nothing, had prepared nothing
yet.... And meanwhile perhaps it had struck six. And his drowsiness
and stupefaction were followed by an extraordinary, feverish, as it
were, distracted, haste. But the preparations to be made were few.
He concentrated all his energies on thinking of everything and
forgetting nothing; and his heart kept beating and thumping so that he
could hardly breathe. First he had to make a noose and sew it into his
overcoat- a work of a moment. He rummaged under his pillow and
picked out amongst the linen stuffed away under it, a worn out, old
unwashed shirt. From its rags he tore a long strip, a couple of inches
wide and about sixteen inches long. He folded this strip in two,
took off his wide, strong summer overcoat of some stout cotton
material (his only outer garment) and began sewing the two ends of the
rag on the inside, under the left armhole. His hands shook as he
sewed, but he did it successfully so that nothing showed outside
when he put the coat on again. The needle and thread he had got
ready long before and they lay on his table in a piece of paper. As
for the noose, it was a very ingenious device of his own; the noose
was intended for the axe. It was impossible for him to carry the axe
through the street in his hands. And if hidden under his coat he would
still have had to support it with his hand, which would have been
noticeable. Now he had only to put the head of the axe in the noose,
and it would hang quietly under his arm on the inside. Putting his
hand in his coat pocket, he could hold the end of the handle all the
way, so that it did not swing; and as the coat was very full, a
regular sack in fact, it could not be seen from outside that he was
holding something with the hand that was in the pocket. This noose,
too, he had designed a fortnight before.

[subsonic87]

When he had finished with this, he thrust his hand into a little
opening between his sofa and the floor, fumbled in the left corner and
drew out the pledge, which he had got ready long before and hidden
there. This pledge was, however, only a smoothly planed piece of
wood the size and thickness of a silver cigarette case. He picked up
this piece of wood in one of his wanderings in a courtyard where there
was some sort of a workshop. Afterwards he had added to the wood a
thin smooth piece of iron, which he had also picked up at the same
time in the street. Putting the iron which was a little the smaller on
the piece of wood, he fastened them very firmly, crossing and
re-crossing the thread round them; then wrapped them carefully and
daintily in clean white paper and tied up the parcel so that it
would be very difficult to untie it. This was in order to divert the
attention of the old woman for a time, while she was trying to undo
the knot, and so to gain a moment. The iron strip was added to give
weight, so that the woman might not guess the first minute that the
"thing" was made of wood. All this had been stored by him beforehand
under the sofa. He had only just got the pledge out when he heard some
one suddenly about in the yard.
"It struck six long ago."
"Long ago! My God!"
He rushed to the door, listened, caught up his hat and began to
descend his thirteen steps cautiously, noiselessly, like a cat. He had
still the most important thing to do- to steal the axe from the
kitchen. That the deed must be done with an axe he had decided long
ago. He had also a pocket pruning-knife, but he could not rely on
the knife and still less on his own strength, and so resolved
finally on the axe. We may note in passing, one peculiarity in
regard to all the final resolutions taken by him in the matter; they
had one strange characteristic: the more final they were, the more
hideous and the more absurd they at once became in his eyes. In
spite of all his agonising inward struggle, he never for a single
instant all that time could believe in the carrying out of his plans.

[subsonic87]

And, indeed, if it had ever happened that everything to the least
point could have been considered and finally settled, and no
uncertainty of any kind had remained, he would, it seems, have
renounced it all as something absurd, monstrous and impossible. But
a whole mass of unsettled points and uncertainties remained. As for
getting the axe, that trifling business cost him no anxiety, for
nothing could be easier. Nastasya was continually out of the house,
especially in the evenings; she would run in to the neighbours or to a
shop, and always left the door ajar. It was the one thing the landlady
was always scolding her about. And so when the time came, he would
only have to go quietly into the kitchen and to take the axe, and an
hour later (when everything was over) go in and put it back again. But
these were doubtful points. Supposing he returned an hour later to put
it back, and Nastasya had come back and was on the spot. He would of
course have to go by and wait till she went out again. But supposing
she were in the meantime to miss the axe, look for it, make an outcry-
that would mean suspicion or at least grounds for suspicion.
But those were all trifles which he had not even begun to
consider, and indeed he had no time. He was thinking of the chief
point, and put off trifling details, until he could believe in it all.
But that seemed utterly unattainable. So it seemed to himself at
least. He could not imagine, for instance, that he would sometime
leave off thinking, get up and simply go there.... Even his late
experiment (i.e. his visit with the object of a final survey of the
place) was simply an attempt at an experiment, far from being the real
thing, as though one should say "come, let us go and try it- why dream
about it!"- and at once he had broken down and had run away cursing,
in a frenzy with himself. Meanwhile it would seem, as regards the
moral question, that his analysis was complete; his casuistry had
become keen as a razor, and he could not find rational objections in
himself. But in the last resort he simply ceased to believe in
himself, and doggedly, slavishly sought arguments in all directions,
fumbling for them, as though some one were forcing and drawing him
to it.

[kristine]

A message to all TTOMRers, turbo-post! Do your part to defeat the evil monolith that is MR!

Haha evil.
You just made that one up in your head.

[subsonic87]

At first- long before indeed- he had been much occupied with one
question; why almost all crimes are so badly concealed and so easily
detected, and why almost all criminals leave such obvious traces? He
had come gradually to many different and curious conclusions, and in
his opinion the chief reason lay not so much in the material
impossibility of concealing the crime, as in the criminal himself.
Almost every criminal is subject to a failure of will and reasoning
power by a childish and phenomenal heedlessness, at the very instant
when prudence and caution are most essential. It was his conviction
that this eclipse of reason and failure of will power attacked a man
like a disease, developed gradually and reached its highest point just
before the perpetration of the crime, continued with equal violence at
the moment of the crime and for longer or shorter time after,
according to the individual case, and then passed off like any other
disease. The question whether the disease gives rise to the crime,
or whether the crime from its own peculiar nature is always
accompanied by something of the nature of disease, he did not yet feel
able to decide.
When he reached these conclusions, he decided that in his own case
there could not be such a morbid reaction, that his reason and will
would remain unimpaired at the time of carrying out his design, for
the simple reason that his design was "not a crime...." We will omit
all the process by means of which he arrived at this last
conclusion; we have run too far ahead already.... We may add only that
the practical, purely material difficulties of the affair occupied a
secondary position in his mind. "One has but to keep all one's will
power and reason to deal with them, and they will all be overcome at
the time when once one has familiarised oneself with the minutest
details of the business...." But this preparation had never been
begun. His final decisions were what he came to trust least, and
when the hour struck, it all came to pass quite differently, as it
were accidentally and unexpectedly.
One trifling circumstance upset his calculations, before he had even
left the staircase. When he reached the landlady's kitchen, the door
of which was open as usual, he glanced cautiously in to see whether,
in Nastasya's absence, the landlady herself was there, or if not,
whether the door to her own room was closed, so that she might not
peep out when he went in for the axe. But what was his amazement
when he suddenly saw that Nastasya was not only at home in the
kitchen, but was occupied there, taking linen out of a basket and
hanging it on a line. Seeing him, she left off hanging the clothes,
turned to him and stared at him all the time he was passing. He turned
away his eyes, and walked past as though he noticed nothing. But it
was the end of everything; he had not the axe! He was overwhelmed.
"What made me think," he reflected, as he went under the gateway,
"what made me think that she would be sure not to be at home at that
moment! Why, why, why did I assume this so certainly?"
He was crushed and even humiliated. He could have laughed at himself
in his anger.... A dull animal rage boiled within him.

[subsonic87]

He stood hesitating in the gateway. To go into the street, to go for
a walk for appearance sake was revolting; to go back to his room, even
more revolting. "And what a chance I have lost for ever!" he muttered,
standing aimlessly in the gateway, just opposite the porter's little
dark room, which was also open. Suddenly he started. From the porter's
room, two paces away from him, something shining under the bench to
the right caught his eye.... He looked about him- nobody. He
approached the room on tiptoe, went down two steps into it and in a
faint voice called the porter. "Yes, not at home! Somewhere near
though, in the yard, for the door is wide open." He dashed to the
axe (it was an axe) and pulled it out from under the bench, where it
lay between two chunks of wood; at once before going out, he made it
fast in the noose, he thrust both hands into his pockets and went
out of the room; no one had noticed him! "When reason fails, the devil
helps!" he thought with a strange grin. This chance raised his spirits
extraordinarily.
He walked along quietly and sedately, without hurry, to avoid
awakening suspicion. He scarcely looked at the passers-by, tried to
escape looking at their faces at all, and to be as little noticeable
as possible. Suddenly he thought of his hat. "Good heavens! I had
the money the day before yesterday and did not get a cap to wear
instead!" A curse rose from the bottom of his soul.
Glancing out of the corner of his eye into a shop, he saw by a clock
on the wall that it was ten minutes past seven. He had to make haste
and at the same time to go someway round, so as to approach the
house from the other side....
When he had happened to imagine all this beforehand, he had
sometimes thought that he would be very much afraid. But he was not
very much afraid now, was not afraid at all, indeed. His mind was even
occupied by irrelevant matters, but by nothing for long. As he
passed the Yusupov garden, he was deeply absorbed in considering the
building of great fountains, and of their refreshing effect on the
atmosphere in all the squares. By degrees he passed to the
conviction that if the summer garden were extended to the field of
Mars, and perhaps joined to the garden of the Mihailovsky Palace, it
would be a splendid thing and a great benefit to the town. Then he was
interested by the question why in all great towns men are not simply
driven by necessity, but in some peculiar way inclined to live in
those parts of the town where there are no gardens nor fountains;
where there is most dirt and smell and all sorts of nastiness. Then
his own walks through the Hay Market came back to his mind, and for
a moment he waked up to reality. "What nonsense!" he thought,
"better think of nothing at all!"

[subsonic87]

"So probably men led to execution clutch mentally at every object
that meets them on the way," flashed through his mind, but simply
flashed, like lightning; he made haste to dismiss this thought.... And
by now he was near; here was the house, here was the gate. Suddenly
a clock somewhere struck once. "What! can it be half-past seven?
Impossible, it must be fast!"
Luckily for him, everything went well again at the gates. At that
very moment, as though expressly for his benefit, a huge waggon of hay
had just driven in at the gate, completely screening him as he
passed under the gateway, and the waggon had scarcely had time to
drive through into the yard, before he had slipped in a flash to the
right. On the other side of the waggon he could hear shouting and
quarrelling; but no one noticed him and no one met him. Many windows
looking into that huge quadrangular yard were open at that moment, but
he did not raise his head- he had not the strength to. The staircase
leading to the old woman's room was close by, just on the right of the
gateway. He was already on the stairs....
Drawing a breath, pressing his hand against his throbbing heart, and
once more feeling for the axe and setting it straight, he began softly
and cautiously ascending the stairs, listening every minute. But the
stairs, too, were quite deserted; all the doors were shut; he met no
one. One flat indeed on the first floor was wide open and painters
were at work in it, but they did not glance at him. He stood still,
thought a minute and went on. "Of course it would be better if they
had not been here, but... it's two storeys above them."
And there was the fourth storey, here was the door, here was the
flat opposite, the empty one. The flat underneath the old woman's
was apparently empty also; the visiting card nailed on the door had
been torn off- they had gone away!... He was out of breath. For one
instant the thought floated through his mind "Shall I go back?" But he
made no answer and began listening at the old woman's door, a dead
silence. Then he listened again on the staircase, listened long and
intently... then looked about him for the last time, pulled himself
together, drew himself up, and once more tried the axe in the noose.
"Am I very pale?" he wondered. "Am I not evidently agitated? She is
mistrustful.... Had I better wait a little longer... till my heart
leaves off thumping?"

[subsonic87]

But his heart did not leave off. On the contrary, as though to spite
him, it throbbed more and more violently. He could stand it no longer,
he slowly put out his hand to the bell and rang. Half a minute later
he rang again, more loudly.
No answer. To go on ringing was useless and out of place. The old
woman was, of course, at home, but she was suspicious and alone. He
had some knowledge of her habits... and once more he put his ear to
the door. Either his senses were peculiarly keen (which it is
difficult to suppose), or the sound was really very distinct.
Anyway, he suddenly heard something like the cautious touch of a
hand on the lock and the rustle of a skirt at the very door. Some
one was standing stealthily close to the lock and just as he was doing
on the outside was secretly listening within, and seemed to have her
ear to the door.... He moved a little on purpose and muttered
something aloud that he might not have the appearance of hiding,
then rang a third time, but quietly, soberly and without impatience,
Recalling it afterwards, that moment stood out in his mind vividly,
distinctly, forever; he could not make out how he had had such
cunning, for his mind was as it were clouded at moments and he was
almost unconscious of his body.... An instant later he heard the latch
unfastened.

[Chapter Seven next]

[subsonic87]

Come on, troops! Rally around the flag! http://ogeechee.litphil.georgiasouthern.edu/images/red-flag-aloft.jpg

[subsonic87]

Viva la resistance!

[subsonic87]

Comrades, the main weapon in our struggles against the Most Replies bourgeoisie is the turbo-post! Long live the glorious struggle!

[subsonic87]

Turbo-post!

[subsonic87]

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Then join in the fight
That will give you the right to be free!

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

Will you give all you can give
So that our banner may advance
Some will fall and some will live
Will you stand up and take your chance?
The blood of the martyrs
Will water the meadows of [Unicyclist.com]!

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

[subsonic87]

Post.

[subsonic87]

Del taco?

[subsonic87]

I wish I could MUni right now...

[subsonic87]

Hey, Fexnix. Start some posting in here!

[subsonic87]

Fexnix?

[fexnix]

yes?

[fexnix]

I´m no communist.

[fexnix]

But i´ll post in here anyway

[subsonic87]

I´m no communist.
Nor am I.

[subsonic87]

Just a tongue-in-cheek call to arms to revitalize the TTOMR cadre to take down MR. Just having fun.

[fexnix]

i didn´t read the text

[fexnix]

was it evenm communist talk?

[subsonic87]

Not really. Stereotypical revolutionary jargon crept in a bit though. ;)

[fexnix]

Waaaaar!!!!

[fexnix]

:)

[subsonic87]

We're gonna take 'em down, Fexnix!

[subsonic87]

Only 25,000 more replies to go! We can do it!

[subsonic87]

Must... overthrow... MR...

[this end up]

sorry im late. i had some stuff to take care of

[subsonic87]

Anyway, man I cant beleive those lame boring turboposters.....aha what a joke.
Yeah, whatever. Tubo-posting is what this thread is all about. Plust, no one's ever said why postathoning makes MR superior to TTOMR. Like anyone's going to go back and read back pages of either thread? What does it matter if they're filled with fluff?

[this end up]

turbo post?

[subsonic87]

sorry im late. i had some stuff to take care of
Hey, Chosen! You're back!

[this end up]

i like chicken

[subsonic87]

Have you read the TTOMR Manifesto (http://unicyclist.com/forums/showthread.php?t=42895&page=286)?

[this end up]

no no no. i am a chosen fan :D

[subsonic87]

D'oh! I knew that. You tricked me with a word association.

[fexnix]

Chosen Fan!

[fexnix]

blow me chosen fan!

[fexnix]

get it?

[fexnix]

blow like in wind

[subsonic87]

Hahahaha! I get it!

[this end up]

i guess so.

[subsonic87]

blow like in wind
Oh, now I get it!

[fexnix]

bomshackalack

[this end up]

but my schools computers are being stupid

[subsonic87]

You might want to avoid the word "blow," though. It has certain... connotations in American slang.

[fexnix]

tjis is like speilleng worgn

[fexnix]

You might want to avoid the word "blow," though. It has certain... connotations in American slang.
DOH!
i know

[this end up]

so if i log off suddenly don't worry i shall return within 5 minutes

[fexnix]

that´s whats makes it so funny

[fexnix]

why does forrestunifreak have a + infront of his name?

[this end up]

so what should we do?

[fexnix]

in the active users thingy

[fexnix]

Turbo Psost`?!!

[subsonic87]

This is great. The three of us, postathoning, being completely inane, and having messages out of sync with each other. Rock, rock on!

[this end up]

its you that has the + infront of your name

[fexnix]

soon i will have my 1500th psot

[fexnix]

no it´´s chosen

[this end up]

what do you mean postathoning

[fexnix]

no i mean forest

[subsonic87]

why does forrestunifreak have a + infront of his name?
I don't see it.

[this end up]

chosen rented my avatar

[fexnix]

Ypu makes the answers illgive you the questions

[this end up]

what do you mean postathoning?

[fexnix]

forrest is always watching....

[this end up]

why has not forest posted?

[fexnix]

creepy

[subsonic87]

what do you mean postathoning
Postathoning is when several people get on a thread at once, and post back and forth really fast (is engaged in constantly over at MR). Turbo-posting is the same thing, but with one person.

[fexnix]

we are catching up

[this end up]

where's subsonic?

[fexnix]

we need some more peoples postathoning

[this end up]

oh there you are

[subsonic87]

Woot! That last post was #400!

[forrestunifreak]

why does forrestunifreak have a + infront of his name?

I'm your buddy!

[fexnix]

I remember the old days when kapoute were on here

[this end up]

3 guests are watching

[subsonic87]

Post-a-thon! Post-a-thon!

[subsonic87]

3 guests are watching
So is Kristine. Kinda creepy, if you ask me.

[this end up]

postathoning

[fexnix]

How do I know whos my buddy :P :D

[this end up]

i don't see kristine

[fexnix]

Forest is my main man :)

[subsonic87]

Let's see if we can get to page 300!

[fexnix]

not

[this end up]

How do I know whos my buddy :P :D
check your buddy list

[fexnix]

only 10 pages left

[subsonic87]

Down at the bottom:
Currently Active Users Viewing This Thread: 6 (5 members and 1 guests) subsonic87 (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=11153), fexnix (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=7381), forrestunifreak (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=6828), kristine (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=7498), this end up (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=9487)

[fexnix]

wheres my buddy list?

[this end up]

p. 300 or bust

[subsonic87]

Voyeurs!

[this end up]

start at a and go to z

[fexnix]

i cant remember anyone wanting to be my friend ... :(

[this end up]

a

[this end up]

b

[subsonic87]

wheres my buddy list?
Go to your user CP, and it should be on the left.

[fexnix]

Yayayayayayaya!

[this end up]

c

[subsonic87]

i cant remember anyone wanting to be my friend ... :(
I'll be your friend, Fexnix.

[this end up]

d

[fexnix]

http://hometown.aol.com/svnonine/extreme3/forestuni.jpg

[fexnix]

A unihorn in a forest

[subsonic87]

Whoa, this is making my head spin.

[fexnix]

its forestuni

[subsonic87]

We're all out of sync. And it rocks!

[this end up]

Originally Posted by fexnix
i cant remember anyone wanting to be my friend ...

fexnix is on my buddy list

[fexnix]

im tired

[this end up]

its awesome

[subsonic87]

its forestuni
:D:D:D Hehe. You a funy guy.

[fexnix]

this end up is my main man

[this end up]

hello?

[fexnix]

but not my buddy :(

[subsonic87]

Only 8 pages to go! Let's crack 300!

[this end up]

just look at my sig

[fexnix]

HI!

[this end up]

p. 293

[subsonic87]

C'mon, Chosen, post already!

[fexnix]

im still on page 290.....

[subsonic87]

I see you!

[fexnix]

smallflip....

[subsonic87]

Currently Active Users Viewing This Thread: 7 (6 members and 1 guests) subsonic87 (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=11153), chosen (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=9281), kristine (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=7498), forrestunifreak (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=6828), fexnix (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=7381), this end up (http://unicyclist.com/forums/member.php?u=9487)

[this end up]

lool

[subsonic87]

Chosen?

[fexnix]

SKAKA DIN GÖT!

[this end up]

hit your refresh button

[chosen]

nice avatar this end up. let me hook you up with some rep. o and whats your name by the way? im jonny

[fexnix]

murde mental is on here too

[this end up]

hi every one

[fexnix]

Im FELIX

[chosen]

6 posts were made at 255 my time

[this end up]

nice avatar this end up. let me hook you up with some rep. o and whats your name by the way? im jonny

im kyle

[fexnix]

capital letters only

[subsonic87]

Bra där FexNix håller till punkt och pricka med

[chosen]

wanna be one of my fans fexnix?

[fexnix]

Hej Ehej Ehj!!

[subsonic87]

I'm Nate

[this end up]

p. 294

[chosen]

capital letters only
4 OF US AT ONCE

[fexnix]

subsonic knows swedish...

[subsonic87]

But I don't speak Swedish. I copied that out of my rep.

[fexnix]

strange...

[chosen]

Hej Ehej Ehj!!
ill take that as a no.........

[this end up]

and all of a sudden every one vanishes

[chosen]

im here man

[fexnix]

haha
My blond friend with his blond coments

[subsonic87]

Hablo un poquito de Espanol, though

[fexnix]

blond = dumb

[this end up]

chicken is good 4 u

[subsonic87]

Whoa, I'm so confused.

[fexnix]

ooh... wait. I´m blond!!!

[chosen]

i speak a little bit of spanish

[this end up]

p. 295

[fexnix]

that means im dumb?

[subsonic87]

Guys, if we keep this up, there's no way MR can hold out against us!

[chosen]

http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=9281&dateline=1133320768

[this end up]

my 736 post

[fexnix]

ok now im on page 293

[subsonic87]

ooh... wait. I´m blond!!!
Me too.

[subsonic87]

No, page 296!

[fexnix]

http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718

[chosen]

how bout everyday, at this time ( whatver time it is where u r) we come post here

[subsonic87]

Post post post post!

[fexnix]

lemurs for everyonE!!

[chosen]

sound good?

[subsonic87]

http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718http://www.unicyclist.com/forums/image.php?u=7381&dateline=1129667718
AAAAAHHHHH! That's scary, Fexnix!

[chosen]

how bout everyday, at this time ( whatver time it is where u r) we come post here.

[fexnix]

this end uP!

[this end up]

if we all meet here every day at 8:40 unicyclist comunity time we will definantly pass them up in no time

[fexnix]

step it up

[subsonic87]

how bout everyday, at this time ( whatver time it is where u r) we come post here
Just before lunchtime for me, so I can't come every day. Some days, maybe.

[this end up]

p. 296

[fexnix]

my time isn´t your time...

[subsonic87]

Please click one of the Quick Reply icons in the posts above to activate Quick Reply.

[chosen]

:(

[this end up]

if we all meet here every day at 8:40 unicyclist comunity time we will definantly pass them up in no time.

[fexnix]

its 10 on the evening here

[subsonic87]

Woot! p. 297!

[chosen]

who is chosen anyways?

[this end up]

post post

[fexnix]

time to me to practise 360 unispins in the garage?

[this end up]

tomtom

[subsonic87]

its 10 on the evening here
You're nocturnal, right Lemur-man?

[this end up]

i heart me

[chosen]

anyone use limewire?

[this end up]

If we all meet here every day at 8:40 unicyclist comunity time we will definantly pass them up in no time

[fexnix]

mkay?

[chosen]

time to me to practise 360 unispins in the garage?
how close r u? im real close

[this end up]

i'm repeating myself

[fexnix]

whats noctural?

[subsonic87]

anyone use limewire?
Whazzat? Is that a P2P?

[fexnix]

Im soooooo close!

[chosen]

staying up at night

[fexnix]

i limewire

[this end up]

p. 298

[chosen]

Im soooooo close!
im landing mine TODAY

[fexnix]

10 is not noctural

[this end up]

what is lime wire?

[chosen]

im landing mine TODAY
o and hold me 2 this please

[subsonic87]

I'm gonna give all you guys rep, if I can.

[fexnix]

i go to bed at around 11:30

[this end up]

Fly04066814 is here yay!!!

[fexnix]

and fall to sleep around 12:30

[this end up]

yay me!!!

[chosen]

i go to bed at around 11:30
k:o

[fexnix]

wake up at 7 next day

[this end up]

p. 299

[fexnix]

k:o

whadya mean?

[subsonic87]

Come join the postathoning, Flyman! We're almost to page 300!

[Fly04066814]

Yay!

[this end up]

soon to be p. 300

[fexnix]

i wanna be first page 300

[chosen]

whadya mean?
;)

[subsonic87]

Page 299!

[fexnix]

gotta powerpsot

[this end up]

posting is fun

[chosen]

i wanna be first page 300
no me

[subsonic87]

Page 300 yet?

[this end up]

post?

[subsonic87]

Me!

[chosen]

page 300!

[fexnix]

POWERPSOT!!!

[Fly04066814]

posts appering :eek:

[this end up]

subsonic won

[fexnix]

hey he6y hey

[fexnix]

kristine is here again!

[chosen]

word (http://www.unicyclist.com/gallery/?g2_view=core.ShowItem&g2_itemId=163825)

[subsonic87]

YAY! Yeeha!

[this end up]

what do you mean POWERPSOT!!!?

[fexnix]

get some nice pics...

[subsonic87]

A-boogidy, boogidy!

[chosen]

my friends comin over tomorrow and im landing my 360 unispin today so itll be on film hopefully and ill share it.