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| YUGO |
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YUGO LABS |
| ALSO WIK |
| Hello Yugo | |
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| Posted by ...my name. is. THE PLAGUE @ 2016-08-18 05:46:01 | |
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| Experience Life in Mixed Motion | |
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Take the chances nobody else won't. Do the right toggle. Visit January 4th twice a year. Yugo Labs, for when you need the right quagliquarrrty for your spsproltortottoronbromatontrll. |
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| Posted by ...my name. is. THE PLAGUE @ 2016-08-14 05:24:18 | |
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| SSDDeeffiinniittiioonn | |
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The following is an excerpt from the well-known Yugo Gsollary: YUGO: Your Underworld Guide Online SSDD: Single-Sourced Double Duplex DSDS: Data-Sink Disk Storage GORT: Gort Ort Rt T LAMP: Lots'A Messy Plates ROLD: Remote Office Long Doorway FJIR: Forward-Junction Infrastructure Rod BPPT: Bordering Possible Portway Transfers IILH: Idiomatic Idiom Lowering Highlighter RLGV: Rotary Lock Gravity Variator SXEX: Sussex X-ray External Xylophone NKOG: Neutral Klondike Originator Group |
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| Posted by ...my name. is. THE PLAGUE @ 2016-08-06 23:48:10 | |
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| harrsfnord stage II | |
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a rift opens in the plot. star and costar tumble into a scene right out of raiders of the lost arc. blonde drops predictable line about i've had enough vacationing can it stop now please. "we've got to find the beacon," harrison ford growls. "this way." he starts walking. "thatbeaconbettabeupdere" the blond fires off. we find it, we shut it down, we're arrested. this gets off us off this fuckin' island. kapiche? ja. hike up the hill with us. "so where's the beacon? huh?" axioliticnoyzeright? datsone right? right. uhh. yeah. there's no peninsula! who stole the peninsula. this isn't tomidenga. uhhh. no. so there is no bacon we're gonna turnoff no. umm. we could be, uh, further to the south. this could be matinooi. what's on matinooi? uhh. us.
wat. wat? blonde is disbelief. harrison fnrod has a conniption and begins uprooting jungle shrubbery. he just wants one fing to go rite. just one. goddamn. i'm the captain. i can't go around screaming, "o shit, we're gonna die." it doesn't inspire confidence. blonde reverses tactics and talks harrison ford's balls off of the ledge. i become tired of transcribing this shit. |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-07-29 11:43:41 | |
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| harrison fnord | |
| harrison ford is junting ceapocks in the hungle. look! there are lots of potatoes in the jungle. you won't regret it, he tells this movie's blone. they feast on exotic jungle bird about harrison talks about his very successful jungle business, a better way of adult planes, like flying, house on a beach, you know. livinalifeofdreams of. "pssh." blonde says, "sounds good if you're twelve." i just tuned in, but this movie already gets mad postpoints for sass factor. | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-07-29 11:34:10 | |
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| you never know | |
| you can't be paranoid without being paranoid, you know? because you never know. if you're paranoid. are you? | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-07-16 04:34:54 | |
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| plamp | |
| harrison ford runs across the tarmac on painkillers. crowds gawk. he yells. a plane taxis, off in the distance. he demands to know from the man with the plane wands. he demands. the wand man lays it on harrison: it's that one, over there. taxi... ing. harrison ford is out of breath. the scene is over. i change the channel in search of greener pastures and find none. | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-07-02 11:11:50 | |
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| the_weasels.r_back.in'action | |
| but i was unable to download the multidimensional unicorndawgdue to conscious neural interference. i simply didn't understand enough field algebra, or algebra fields (i imagine them growing like corn). the unicorn was unable to find a neocortical interface of sufficient bandwidth, and was lots. very many. so very. and that's about all i remember | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-06-08 14:07:28 | |
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| waiting for casino to rsync | |
| it's kyboshing up the works. it's holding up the snow. it's phoning in a gram. it's wrinklin' my foldin' space. it's spacing out my manifolds. it's fiebering my bieber. it's uncloaking my klingon bird of prey. it's distmanteling my MX stockpile. it's disseminating blu ray over wifi. rsync is done. bbl | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-06-04 04:58:49 | |
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| Jeez this dame was smoke and mirrors right from the getgo. I'll be damned if I let the blues get the best of me, I'd rather fight 10 wise guys in a speakeasy before that mess in my head goes down. Truth is I wasn't drowning at the waterhole just yet, I had a hot lead and I'm not talkin' a new Hollywood doll. Fuck I need a cheat sheet because I never read this stuff. | |
| Posted by Mahjong The Wisest @ 2016-05-31 23:32:38 | |
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| dead ravens | |
| The fan reverberations were clearly a variety of random pitches, always one for at least a half decent answer I went for D# after n minutes. If I had to be tired of no sleep whilst tired at least beam me up to the mothership. I'm sick of this place. Outside a wasteland, noise of bizarre IRC mental health patterns too intersected and layered to decode at this hour. Music not possible on power saving so ASCII and murder mystery show = companion. The diesel generators are running out, I fear the situation is grave as another fuel mission is perilous to say the least. Baud maintain whilst other stations broadcasting. Now I must return, usually to achieve or construct but to merely maintain for this brief pause to think and to lay back in a calm sea. The nightshift fills in the gaps, works from france, US, canada, germany travel through the network into the neural interface, running on slower temporal frameworks nicens the pieces, a small victory against our demons. Autoplay across the network back to my song, the algorithms have us all now. You don't want to look up to | |
| Posted by Mahjong The Wisest @ 2016-05-28 04:28:35 | |
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| dusty's ca | |
| rumour has it there's an unreleased autechre track hidden in the bowels of xhamster.com's vat collection. I heard from my buddy stan the aphex twein put it there on one of those drunken glasgowian rampages such idm lol .7 artist are known for. U kno hte guy from squarepusher? todd Jemkison? He writes all his music on the back of napkins from various dennys restaraunts. only hthe ones in texas. thats' why hes so good at playing the bass. also acid. | |
| Posted by shitbowl @ 2016-05-13 16:19:18 | |
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| 0.5 parsex | |
| Some say the tea had been boiled, real slow like. All I knew is the streets were talkin' and with the doll gone I had no leads. Cold hard truth is that there was no truth, hell these lemons were shakin' like william burroughs. Have you been involved in a spaceship accident? Did you know you could claim compensation even if it the incident took place in intergalactic space? The design of the studer fuselage was in phase 2 and the lockout parameters had been identified. A metalurgist report showed signs of metal fatigue in sections 9-57. | |
| Posted by Mahjong The Wisest @ 2016-05-05 08:00:08 | |
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| Apology Denied | |
| Orchard MIDI on the 1s and 2s, I got the tape file from dr. piano & the cherry coeds backstage. Salmon error causes stream corruption and then once there unwound its coil. Manic laughter in the laboratory, dry ice stacked next to the faders with corrupt lads enough amongst shemales. This wave is not up to spec, please get me another one from the factory floor. In my dream the chip shop was now a squat. | |
| Posted by Mahjong The Wisest @ 2016-04-27 07:16:02 | |
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| mild overanalysis of the chicken joke | |
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i was walking my car down the road at about forty through a gentle industrial zone. connector road connects to technology drive, you drive, and then something something research boulevard. i was doing mad research (and also some science), when a turkey crossed the road. a single wild turkey; almost definitely the 151 variant. just one, though... don't turkeys usually travel in packs? ...flocks? ...swarms? ...gazzards? ...prayer circles? ...travel in circles? ...travel in circles? ok turkey you win, hard stop the sharkmobile. cross the road. just go, c'mon. the turkey clearly sensed my impatience, and hustled across as quickly as it could. i then resumed science with more than the usual haste, so the acura barreling down the road would not lodge itself in my anus.
that wild turkey had crossed the road exactly like a metaphorical chicken. but why? did it cross the road? it feels like there's something to this i'm missing, but perhaps that's the joke. "perhaps," i thought, "the chicken crossed the road in order to define the neurological equivalent of a C++ class about the nature of reality." let's call it "joke". chicken is a member of class joke, and a virtual function at that. live/wild instances of joke in reality (the stack) may be any number of polymorphic classes inheriting from chicken. you carry this object code with you, always -- you will remember this drab, unfunny, almost meaningless joke until the day you die. it'd be plum irritating if it weren't so harmless and sad. like a 40yo with downs syndrome... ...but, it's all a deceptive facade. behind the scenes, class joke sneakily abstracts a well-defined subset of the set "things that could happen," and installs callback handlers all over your brain with a bit of viral wordery. this allows class joke to effectively take over how you react to a small part of reality, as birds really do cross roads, sometimes. i'm not sure precisely how often, but often enough. the bird crosses the road, triggering callback function chicken, which hands control flow over to class joke. look, dude, the turkey did cross the road. no, not chicken, turkey. it's overriding the virtual chicken function. no -- wait -- shaddup! the joke is a meme that perpetuates itself via actually happening sometimes, generating a steady stream of ramsey retweets in your meatspace-layer social network until it becomes self-sustaining and ripples around forever like a tape delay with the feedback set to "yes."
my hunch is that class joke was was engineered by some generations-old neurohacker for shits and giggles. the design pattern is thus:
select an event that is rare, but not that rare. add in the promising scent of a zen metaphor that goes absolutely nowhere. it's enough of a tease to get people thinking about it, and thus, to remember it forever. once you condition a person with class joke, the person begins to propagate class joke to their aunt and uncle nodes. the aunt and uncle nodes tell their neighbor nodes and their neighbor nodes tell the grandchild nodes... and, eventually, get bored of it -- cease propagation. clearly, like starting a siphon to empty your microtyke pool, you have to provide enough pull on the tube's reality to start a self-sustaining feedback loop. once it's going, it'll drain the whole pool like magic, but you need to suck on that siphon. to bootstrap. it is analogous to a botnet r00ting a sufficient quantity of linkbro routers to survive the regular stream of people that notice things are hacked to shit and reset the router to factory defaults (wiping out your bot code). the router can be re-infected, obviously, by routers that remain infected. thus, as long as infection is equal to or greater than the rate of "honey, my shoe page is stuck, could you reboot the router?" it iterates forever, without any participation from who or whatever developed it. essentially, the chicken is a worm. the chicken worm is a ghost that exists in the space between a grip of unpatched routers, and it will come back. just like the cat worm. the chicken crossed the road to puzzle and frustrate a potential host (you) with an unpatched curiosity vulnerability. class joke used this vulnerability to execute arbitrary code in the part of your brain responsible for reality, and it has used this opportunity to make really really sure of one thing: should a bird ever cross the road, you will fucking tell people about it. you'll post a photo of the bird on facebook. everyone else is all "oh yeah the chicken joke," and likes your photo because people like it when you reference things they know about. all the attention zaps the chicken worm neurons with a huge dose of juice, like the capacitive refresh cycle of DRAM, keeping it from fading off. critical mass is achieved and gravitational lensing comes into play. the signal of chicken worm gradually crests above the noise in your wernicke lobby. the chicken worm is highly transmissible from parent to child. the chicken worm is a meta-virus generated by the chicken pox, and at some point, all children must get the chicken pox. all children must also learn the chicken joke. it is extremely rare for a child to come down with the pox and not know the joke, but it happens. in the event of this edge case, the pox uploads joke directly into the child's nervous system via mRNA. it is a singularity that explodes into the mind of the infected child like a legit edgar cayce vision. many children find it disturbing and tell their parents. parents universally insist that the child must have heard the joke somewhere else before, and simply forgotten about it. no parent has ever believed a child since the pox first came into context with unpatched meat routers. like terrence mckenna's mushrooms, the pox are a race of interstellar travelers. carry this disarming dad joke to star systems more distant than... well, this one. "hey, why did the chicken cross the road?" "i dunno, why?" "to get to the other side." "i don't get it. is there more to it?" "no, that's the joke. there's no answer. it's, like, a metaphor." "can you explain it?" "explain? uhhh, jeez. that's hard. i can't, really. it's a zen thing. you gotta get it completely or you don't get it at all." "that's not very helpful. i still don't get it." "just think about it man, it'll come to you." and it will. now, next week, five years later -- sometime, somewhere, a wild turkey worm will find you, and your reaction will be reflexive and immediate. at this point, you have lost the game. your context has been switched to worm propagation; you are a bird. your hair is a worm. your hair wants to go to the stars. do you have stars in your house? |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-04-18 19:22:57 | |
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| untitled | |
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synopsis, last five minutes of whatever this is: a kung fu master tears off a mission impossible face mask, revealing his true identity. he does this in response to robot motorcycle suit ninjas revealing their true identies (without removing their masks) and confessing to their childhood betrayal of the movie's white night. then the robot motorcycle suit ninjas torture the revealed kung fu master. the robot motorcycle ninjas need just one file, they say, just one file, and they take out a pair of g men with a briefcase and the briefcase reads the data out of his brain like a fucking data eyeball scan pitchfork, yes sir. that's how fast it happened -- that briefcase came outta nowhere. next scene, i find out dwayne "the rock" is in this movie. i think it has me and i should write off the next hour or two
this unfinished internet post was found next to the man who had appeared to have spontaneously human combusted from the neocortex down through the infundibulum and out into all the less flattering parts of the human nervous system.
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-04-14 21:16:37 | |
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| abvertizemint | |
| strap on your johnny mnemonic gloves and sweep aside some tron landscapes with the ROI VR-3092. you'll be outpimping your friends on the cyberbrane with sass pizazz of epic legend -- trapped on The Street and loving every minute of it. Throw Some Polygons (tm) coming 2020 | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-04-11 00:08:23 | |
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| i just won the game | |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-04-10 23:58:09 | |
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| Journey: unkown, Endgame: unknown | |
| "MR EVANS... MR EVANS! I NEED THIS SECTOR REALIGNED SOON, IF NOT LATER". tip ur hat to the side and get funky. 498773 is the key, miscreants on the balcony gettin cidered in this place. Self preservation now hardcoded out. feels hot in here | |
| Posted by Mahjong The Wisest @ 2016-04-05 02:53:11 | |
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| i warned ya | |
| i dunno twumpet on a windy man contwoller but trishtina said to tell you to tell steve that she thinks he's tubular in a gross kinda way. also trishtina has some question about CentOS on a VM and i can't get my platform to trust anyone since that boot sector virus the printer is out of plotter and the paper is full of bees. VP elkerkind wants vax/vms by next tuesday and extra lettuice on his sandwhich if you know what i mean. she was a fine diode, aye. STOP! FOCUS! do the job. this is important -- all that crazy crap on the internet? it ain't gonna write itself. so don't stop it. be the vessel. stir some sass; parametric. yes, that will do nicely. sass to parametric; weasels to nomimal. if your weasels are not nominal, please report this at once. also trishtina needs some help figuring out montage on imagemagick and the sales guy spilled cocaine alll over his abstractions and he needs his powerpoints undusted before update tuesday and also the coffee machine is not responding to pings i think we forgot to switch over the subnet if i'm gone for three hours you know why | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2016-04-04 08:32:05 | |
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