The Miscellaneous Thread

This Thread Is a Thread where you can post what ever you want from  **** posting to crazy stuff . Any topic MMA related to what ever you want to talk. Try and not be toxic arsehole. And one rule No Politic allowed because that what made people ****s

Let me Start, I find it insane it like 4 days to Chrismas , Im suprise it so close to the end of the Year,  Fells like Junes.Anyone have anything cool plan for Chrissy, I’m probley just gonna mess around at the gym 

* Edited at 12.21.2020, 8:52 PM ET *

@Baldric I remember before you were writing a novel. Are you gonna put it under your name or a pen name?

If you choose a pen name, I recommend a handicapped Jewish Hispanic Trans female. Really hit all the groups. 😎

except for bigots lmao

Livinha Souza   vs.   Randa Markos 


I was unusually shocked to find this terrible bout sullying an otherwise very high quality card. Just about fell off my chair. Imagine this:


You take a girl out on a date. Her name is Lauren or Laura, or Kate, and she's a seven, but after a few flutes of verve clicque, a toot of powdered sugar and some fiddling with the dimmers she'll bump up to a hard eight, maybe an 8.5, in a pony-choke position over the duchess.


You pull out all the stops. You cracked out the la nuit de l'homme, trimmed your hangnails, and napalmed out the last rebellion alliance of crabs and lice bunkered down in your netherhairs with a treatment that lightened your pubes by three shades. It's only meant to be used at the morgue. You bought it on the deep web with Shiba Inu coin.


You even made a five dollar donation to the pink river dolphin conservation fund, and requested they call you back mindway through dinner with a promise of five dollars more. Both parties obliged. Truthfully your interests in such creatures extends only as far as your deep suspicion that they might not exist. Not outside of Disney's The Little Mermaid, or a Barbie Malibu beach party Box set that is. Unless David Attenborough has been trolling you since childhood, Dolphins are the color of smog in Camden and live in the sea. You're surely more likely to find one cadging a smoke or flashing the foot traffic in an overcoat on the subway than you are to find a pink freshwater variety. It has to be ********.


Whether it's a scam or not is ancillary to the fact that you provided a credible alibi to the soul you do not possess, and as you smiled and nodded through commendations of your ecological sensitivity you were not remotely suspected of thinking that you hope they're real, because if they are, they probably taste like cherry starburst and there's a chance you can try some in a hand roll at the sushi vendor outside Tsukiji fish market. You'll ask the hardbody behind the counter about it next time you're in town. And maybe try and **** her again, too. 


On balance, it went swimmingly. The doorman was a midget--a delightfully unexpected surprise--and in his brass buttoned bellhop uniform and crop-cut  he looked incredibly like a wind-up mechanical military tattoo doll, and on the way in you stopped and started fumbling around his back through his jacket:


Sir, what are you--


Sssssh. I'm tryin' to find the key.


They Key?...Sir, I don't--


Yeah. The key to spin ya up so ya start clanging' the cymbals!


He shot you daggers that made you glad he wasn't part of the kitchen staff, because if so he'd have definitely lovingly moisturised his sack with your portion of Foix Gras, as you leaned over propped by an arm on your thigh, your other thrusting the middle finger not three inches from his nose, in tears, your wicker-basket frame shuddering with the effort of heaving out wheezy, pleuritic laughter. Covid? You could be tubercular. That Vietnamese Hooker definitely wasn't Kosher. Looked and smelled like she arrived in the false floor of a shipping crate packed with my little kitty calendars and dried tilapia. No way she was vet-checked.


You smoothed it out. Shoved a bill with Hamilton's head on it into his top pocket, winked and told him a Lannister always pays his debts, and for a good 45 minutes  held a conversation as someone other than yourself, which is the last person you'd have wanted to be. You know you're a ******. After dinner, you go to freshen up in the bathroom, take out the blacklight laser pointer that came with your model 3. It shows up, among other things, remnants of narcotics and liberated bodily fluids in wan blue light. You want to see how filthy the place is. Based on the price of the grub, your guess is very.


As you shine it around, you're surprised to the place isn't lit up like lightning, until on the second sweep something catches your eye on the far corner of the wall. You mosey over to take a look. It's an arrow. And as you scroll further down the wall, there's another one, and another, and a single scrawled word: Follow.


Interesting. UV reactive ink?


The arrows run down the wall and across the floor, lead to the stall on the far side of the room. Inside they creep up behind the cistern and here, you find a dollar bill taped to the porcelain. From here, they continue on to a sick, yellowing aspidistra in a faux marble Grecian in the lobby. Another dollar bill, and another set of arrows leading to an out-of-service outhouse behind the building. The door has half fallen of its hinges, and in it's dejected state it seems to say:


The main who build me did so with love and care in 1924. His name was Lewis and he had brilliantined hair and his wife baked rhubarb lattice pies and danced the Charleston,and he's gone now and I don't want anyone else to touch me. If you have to take a ****, go in the bushes, like the bums, and the stray wirehairs.


The arrows continue hither and hitherto. They lead to nooks behind air conditioning units, to street light poles, to manholes, to the undersides of chairs--always leading to a dollar note, always promising another. In total, you've collected nine of them. Engrossed as you are with your nose buried in the breadcrumb trail, you walk right into a parked car, and tumble to the asphalt.  You pick yourself up, dust your shoulders, looking left to right. The place is deserted, nobody saw. The vehicle you bumped into is the only car left in the lot. It's also a Tesla. Your Tesla. And the little blue arrows run right up the side of it, right through the window, which lies shattered and glittering on the leather of the passenger seat. There are arrows here, too, and they lead right on top of the centre console, and here, a last and final word is penned in thick uppercase lettering: Jackpot!


Foreboding spreads like slow, chilly fire from your belly to your bones as you reach in slow motion to pop the lid, knowing you shouldn't, but as a man who bought GME at 390$ per share knowing you will Click. Nothing emerge or explodes. But there is something inside. Something that doesn't belong to you.


It's a roll of banknotes. Thick, heavy. But as you begin to peel through it, you are made aware of the conceit. Only the first note, a single dollar, is authentic currency. The rest are simply paper receipts from the restaurant, wrapped over a cardboard toilet roll core and bound together with a rubber band. And you flick through the layers, vaguely thinking a total of ten dollars won't cover the broken window, you find a Polaroid. And in the dim light of the interior lighting, you can still clearly make out that it features the midget doorman, who is dressed as Genghis Khan  and offering his erect penis, which is substantially larger than yours, to the woman whose dinner you bought not two hours prior and is made up like a horse, and in attitude suggesting she is about to imbibe it willingly.

* Edited at 10.19.2021, 8:39 PM ET *

I think we all need to put respect on Aljamain Sterling, He beat both people in the “interim championship” bout inside the distance, dude a monster. 

* Edited at 10.19.2021, 8:59 PM ET *

Baldric, you write novels?

If you do, I do as well.

lol @ rappinpaps I have been writing one for a while. I struggle with it however due to the format. There's a lot of waffle in Novels and I'm more so into poetry/verse, where every word has to pull its weight. But there's no market for that anymore really.

Want to know something truly hilarious? My GF is a graphic artist/ illustrator. And she's commissioned the fishrat to write a children's book in hexameter, that she will illustrate.

* Edited at 10.20.2021, 4:07 PM ET *

A children's book by @ImperatorFishrat? That's both the best and worst idea I've ever heard but I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't read it!

* Edited at 10.20.2021, 9:45 PM ET *

@thewbush sadly, the golden era of my rampant *******ry is in the rearview mirror.  Greg unlocks me from the bell tower occasionally for a bucket of pilchards and a scrub-down with lime and a broom, but I'll probably be drubbed unconscious with an ether-soaked rag, dragged back up the stairwell by one hairy six-toed foot and shackled to the flagstones again sooner or later.

Anyway, here's one from yesteryear. I call it the Ballad of Sam Alvey. I have nothing against him. It's just been a long-standing opinion of mine that he's severely cognitively ********, and has been coerced into fighting somehow, the way some women are tricked into sex work.



How long for UFC is Sam, a man
of I.Q barely five and three, whose fists
like turds of tantrum chimpanzees
are dumbly flung with hope to land?

To take him to his happy place
chuck his chin and ask 'who's Sam'?
as spittle flies he'll scream 'I am'
And before you've offered up protest

He's **** into his very hand
and made with it to paint your face!
And should you offer to decline
like Bonobo swinging on the vine
he'll whoop and beat his breast!

As Gingers go he's very nice
but task him to a puzzle book
for children ages seven, eight
you'll see the glazed familiar look
of fishes laid on shaven ice.

For what's behind that gawp of Sam?
A place of very little, there. The need
for meat, some dust and air?
Circus tunes and dancing bears?

He'll likely go into the void
when Marquez catches chin or neck
a spastic hairy ginger mess who'll fade
to black just like George
 
And what can he retire to,
with mind not greater than a yam's?
A staple of the petting zoo, to like
domesticated kangaroo feed Meekly
from the children's hands?

But spare a thought for Mrs Sam!
Who's downing whiskey dram-by-dram
and teasing feces from the hair
of children who are bricks of spam

because they have been sired by Sam
who just looks on without a care
and sat upon his freckled thumb.
There's simply nothing to be done:
She's mated an orangutan!

* Edited at 10.20.2021, 10:57 PM ET *

Just because everyone talking about they big writing project, I'm just about to start a breakdown on the entire UFC 269 card like I did for the Volkonoski vs Ortega card, Watching tape on Sean O'Malley vs Raulian Paiva tonight

* Edited at 10.21.2021, 2:12 AM ET *

Transgender Rachel Levine, former public health secretary of PA, has become America's first 'Female' four-star Admiral.

That outta put the fear of God into the Russkis!

* Edited at 10.21.2021, 3:16 AM ET *

Baldric as you said 2 posts ago, you are going to have this account banned if you can't avoid certain topics.

Talking about Rachel Levine or transgender issues is not prohibited on this website. But for you, since you always bring these things up for no good reason and seem to do it with political intent (and come off like an *******, IMHO), these topics are off limits.

* Edited at 10.21.2021, 10:12 AM ET *

Thanks, Gregory. As I grow older, I have a rapidly declining tolerance for horse****.

Hate to be that guy, but is there a thread discussing Kevin Lee's issues with adderall? I didn't see one.

Thanks.

@damien I look forward to reading that, the one you did for the last card was great. I was actually in vegas for that one so I made some bets and I came out way ahead, and I only bet on fights where I had the same pick as you.

Raulian Paiva is one of the toughest unranked fights you can take in that division. He's 3-2 in the UFC currently but if you look closely that loss to Kai-Kara France is highly contested and opinion was and is split down the middle on who actually won that fight. The doctor stoppage in the first in his loss to Bontorin was probably the correct call but that first round was competitive and if the referee hadn't kept breaking up the pace I wonder if Paiva would've even gotten cut like that. 

Paiva cuts Bontorin->Bontorin gets a take down while bleeding everywhere->Ref calls timeout->fight resumes on the feet and Paiva is getting the better of the exchange->Ref calls time out->Puts Paiva on bottom position like before the first time out but in a worst position->fight now again resumes->They scramble get up and something lands from a wild Bontorin on the break away that slices Paiva->Paiva is active and surviving well, scrambling on bottom->Ref calls his last time out. 

http://www.mmadecisions.com/decision/9738/Kai-Kara-France-vs-Raulian-Paiva

* Edited at 10.21.2021, 3:05 PM ET *

@Greg OK. I am making an effort. Nothing about trans, nothing about COVID-19. Again, I can only not discuss things on a response/ ipso facto basis. I have a vague sense of what's permitted and what isn't, but ultimately I'm not certain of anything.

I know, the people saying dumb stuff like "Suga fighting another bum" have no idea what they're talking about. The emperor is not amused