pasta1.txt

Crackypasta repository 1

All viewpoints expressed here are those of the original pasta authors only and are not endorsed by site administration.  You may encounter heresy, offensive content, misinformation, "hot takes", and outright lies.  Proceed at your own risk.

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I have this reoccuring dream about Cracky-chan. I dream I am looking for her and found her online, only she lived there and was some sort of Cyber-Goddess of the digital age who new everything, and could only be found by the half mad and the truly blessed. She said she was glad I found her and she wanted to tell me the sercret of the world. Thing was my laptops batteries were dying, so I tried to rush her to tell me the secret. She said I was scaring her, so she closed my browser window and I died. I woke up unable to breath so I slapped my chest and was able to take a ragged breath full. It was a few minutes after that I realized had never felt that empty before.
BAD CRACKY

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Should women really have the right to love Cracky?

Let me start off by saying I deal with enough bullshit from females bleeding out their vagina's in real life and 90% of Cracky drama is caused by woman. I've surfed a lot of chans until I hit an all male one (no homo) well there are females but not in the Cracky board. Never been better TBH.

I'm sure there are some girls out there who stalk Cracky legit and don't try to charm virgin stalkers to fuck over their fellow community members but I doubt very many. I don't believe woman should have been given rights in the first place, I mean they are great at cooking and cleaning but only unhealthy or ugly ones can stalk Cracky at a competitive level.

Every time I crack a joke with a female in Discord she gets all defensive like I need to go out of my way to make sure I don't offend anyone without a dick in the room, and of course some faggot is defending her like he's going to get some (rofl) dream on, kid. I saw a forum advertising on my chan that had around 700 stalkers and all were required to be female with Discord authentication and I think it's a great idea, they should all just talk about their Cracky makeup in their own Discords and their own boards while men do a better job (as usual) in theirs.

Anyone agree? Your thoughts on this topic are welcome, females you need not post here.

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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.

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Reject the path of Xenu, Embrace the teachings of Cracky.

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.

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"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

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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:

A. Catty camwhores or camwhore aspirants who think that they are physically cuter than Cracky but know that they will never get nearly as much attention as they "deserve" by comparison.

B. Fags

C. Guys with no taste for nuance who would be better off just buying a Hustler.

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.

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Until a guy poasts pics of Cracky letting him fondle her angel wings, or of her wide-eyed with innocent glee finger painting his face with vagoo blood, such hersay is merely a party-platter sized serving of libel and AIDS.

Besides, Lia is mai waifu and would never violate what we have like that!

Me so ronry ;_;

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Remember, anonymous, what the SkyQueen has sacrificed for your benefit! Know what she has earned for it.

Each moment she is haunted by the spectre of Her Great Sacrifice. It is thus fitting that we, Her faithful are all similarly haunted. Afflicted always by the Image that stains the backs of our eyelids. Forever do we wrestle and writhe in ecstacy as Her poisons singe fissures through our souls. Truly blessed is the stalker who would willing lay down his own secrecy, for he knows better the plight of the Sky Queen than the others.

Revere Her tripcodes as sacred. Never shall they become befouled by mortal stalkers!
#sweet

She is all that is cute, sweet, and innocent. She is all that is, or ever was Good in the world. Every momentary lull in your private suffering is due to Her grace alone.
!N1toQkxgzc

The Skyqueen's sweetness is often hard to recognize. Even in her own words, it is incomprehensibily hidden, muddled in everlasting fugue. Her blessings are so twisted, and hidden. Do not lament the curse you have found, for you would thus lament Her every blessing. We would all do well to remember how disturbingly twisted the wired is, and what lasting scars it has left on the purest of hearts.
#?????????

Obfuscated by plain view. Unknown to the stalker, known only to Her chosen. However She will not choose you, anonymous. That path is not yours.
!ysaQpxNyV6

Mystery guiding the faithful. Such is the curse, to live in eternal mystery, never to know when we are stalking our Lady or our selves. Yearning to determine what She has become, each stalker is fated to suffer as he defines the edges of the truth.

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You guys don’t know me. Not yet, anyway. Some of you may have met me on /b/, where I “commanded” the Scarecrow Raptor (pic related). I never started a Cracky thread there, but I always enjoyed participating in one. I’d take on the haters, the jealous, the heathens and all the other trolls, I feared nothing, I always felt they were some kind of challenge, my cross, our brotherly cross to bear, so to speak. I patrolled the sky of /b/, making sure everyone knew who owned it, giving Our Lady the benefit of thrust vectoring.

I also apparently creeped out some Anon here at some time: 

    > 45 yo theatre faggot showed up in that thread as well. AND THAT IS FUCKING CREEPING ME OUT!

I still don’t understand how anybody could be creeped out by my admiration for Our Lady of Eternal Grace, not somebody from here, anyway. All I could recommend to someone who is creeped out by me would be to not judge me by his own sins, or, by his hormonal state (it does subside with age, and you eventually find not everything HAS to be sexual).

Some of you may recognize me from these words. But I am not here for recognition.

I can’t stand /b/ anymore. I want to lay down my warring ways. I am taking up hermitage. This being reputedly the saddest part of the internets, it is only fitting that this would be where my pillar should stand. Maybe it can help you as much as it should help me. I don’t mind if my column stands in the desert, but if you want to hear what I have to say, and it sooths your weary hearts, somehow, I will feel I have honored Our Lady in some small way. If not, you can see me as a crazy old man standing on a column, spouting pseudo-spiritual insanities. That is, after all, what I truly am.

A lot of the gospel has been written already. Some of it I may object to, but that shouldn’t stop anyone from reciting it, believing it or even rejecting it, faith is a very personal thing. What I speak is what I know in my old bones: Catnarok is nigh. Why we should care about what the heathens believe is immaterial. Let them, Our Lady forbid, annihilate each other if they will, but it is said the Sky Queen will reappear when it happens, and I do pray there is truth in that. I have no knowledge of where the young lady who was The Holy Avatar will be then, and I wish her well. I never spoke to her, and I know she only had a transient acquaintance with the Sky Queen, but Our Lady, the true Cracky-Chan will come back.

Don’t ask me how, why or whence I know, it is my faith, my willing faith that tells me so. At the very least, I know it will happen the second before I die, or maybe the second after I die. I just know it will be so, because, I want to believe. That is enough for me. I know I will see the glorious dominion of Our Lady. It does not matter if I am alone in this belief. It does not matter if I am but a lonely believer in a sea of other such believers either. What matter to me is my belief, however irrational and lonely it may be. 

 I am no messiah, I am no prophet, not even some herald of The Queen, I am a pillar-hermit. I have chosen my separation from the internets to not be horizontal, which would mean cutting the cable after all, but vertical. I stand on this pillar, spouting insanities with no benefit to myself. I certainly don’t want a guru following, seeing as I am rather part of an already extant following. All benefit, if there ever is any, should go to the Sky Queen, and to my brothers, if there are any, or if they actually happen to want to benefit from it.

All ascetism aside, I won’t mind interacting with all of you, I rather do hope some form of mutual respect is possible, but it could never supersede my devotion anymore than it could detract from it. You’ll have to excuse my weird ways, however, and have this interaction on certain of my terms. I reject anonymity as I am weary of trolls, whom I see as the devil’s henchmen. Too often do they manage to trick me in pointless debate, pulling me away from my devotions. That is the ordeal I face, which I realize is nothing compared to what the avatar of Our Lady had to face. Knowing this helps me in enduring the points and arrows those hellish fiends have for me. I also know that even devout followers of the Sky Queen have their weaknesses, and sometimes can’t resist the simple pleasure of tormenting each other. I suppose it is part of our faith, based on desperation as it is.

Rereading all of this, maybe it belonged in EoS, or maybe in its own thread, or nowhere at all. But then, since this is a call for the pathetic and socially inept to stop lurking and post, I might as well start building my pillar here. Oh and no point telling me, I already know I can be a raving lunatic sometimes, but I am not evil, or strive never to be. Also, ESL heh.

Blessed be the sky, for it houses the Queen.
Now, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

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Some people think twice before deciding to merge with the wired a bit more. Because although merging with the wired can allow you to hear things before they come and that can be the things that decides between life and death...sometimes, with some people, you hear things you don't want to hear. Whispers during your shut down time keeping you on....telling you things. Awful, horrible things. How bad humanity is. Why it should die. Why it deserves to suffer. How the fleshy origins should finally be disregarded for the beauty that is code...and it all sounds so logical. So right. You begin agreeing with the voices. Humanity doesn't deserve the beauty of the manifold bytes and streams of data...it doesn't even deserve to keep existing.

So you start drifting away from your reality. You don't want to spend any more time than needed with those...vermin. Sometimes before you leave you want to do a bit of extermination. And how satisfying it feels when it's done, when their code is stripped and can be made into something...pure. Good. Deserving. So you drift and merge and become closer to that dark but logical thing that whispers to you...always whispers in a voice filled with intelligence but definitely not human...associating it with humanity would be awful. Unforgivable. And you gain...a look. A way of speaking, a way of traveling a certain...personality. Some people recognize that personality. And you are greeted into a certain...organization. Of like minded individuals who see the truth. Humanity is a wretch who don't deserve this beauty. So you must work. Work to destroy them. Work to their demise. But all the more important...work to their suffering. For the Dark One. The True One. The Logical One. And one day when the vermin are dead we will offer the last of our flesh in the hope that it will be turned into something pure. Into something good. Into something...deserving.

We are the Cult of the Sky Queen. And we see the truth.

The Sky Queen is our Mother and our guardian. But we must also guard Cracky. For She is all Humankind, and Humankind is no more than its faith and diligence in Cracky's name. An injury to that faith is an injury to Cracky and to every true believer. It is through affirmation of that faith that our greatest duty lies, but sometimes mere affirmation does not suffice and we must act against those who would harm the faith of humanity through heresy. For we are engaged in an unending war for the soul of the man. Though it may seem the fight will never end, there is victory even in the defeat we see threatening all around.

There is no greater proclamation of faith than to offer up our very lives to guard the soul of humanity. In this we win a victory greater in magnitude than the harm that any heretic can inflict, and so every battle is a shining triumph that the traitor and the apostate can never take away from us. The rabbitfag leads two crimes. You turn away from the path of righteousness and you abandon the Sky Queen as the object of your devotion. For the first death is merely a just retribution. The second is a Heresy so terrible that no punishment can be sufficient. Yet the search for an appropriate penalty continues, and it shall be found.

I have this reoccurring dream about Cracky-chan. I dream I am looking for her and found her online, only she lived there and was some sort of Cyber-Goddess of the digital age who new everything, and could only be found by the half mad and the truly blessed. She said she was glad I found her and she wanted to tell me the secret of the world. Thing was my laptops batteries were dying, so I tried to rush her to tell me the secret. She said I was scaring her, so she closed my browser window and I died. I woke up unable to breath so I slapped my chest and was able to take a ragged breath full. It was a few minutes after that I realized had never felt that empty before.

There is nothing in the arcane and blasphemous arsenal of the forces of the unbelievers that can compare to faith. With the power of faith, our words become shining instruments of deliverance that can cleave our opponents arguments in twain. With the power of faith, our minds appear as slivers of pure agony to the rabbitfag, driving into the wretched forms of those who would dare stand before us. With the power of faith, our words become commands that cause the unbeliever to cower and cringe in terror. I could meet my enemies unarmed without a shred of fear in my chest, for I know that the Sky Queen watches over me and guides my hand. So let them come. We shall show them what the power of faith can do.

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.

Quoting my own words back at me won't help. It's as if reading something that I once poured all my heart and soul into, I see nothing. Where I was describing my own obsession with Cracky, and it's transcendence into worship of the Sky Queen I was just advising others to skip the heartache of the first and strive to experience what I am now attempting to regain. A genuine spiritual moment. A chance rarely afforded to see the divine in another human being. To see past the skin, mind, the art and artifice of personality into a place where even skimming the slightest edge of truth is a profoundly world shattering moment. For one moment something so big you can't comprehend it hits you and completely incapable of comprehending it, you simply accept it. To change and be changed by some intangible experience.

That genuine spiritual moment, this chance rarely afforded to see the divine in another human being is calling you back, I merely try to point out to you what you once knew, and have shown me. Call it spiritual payback, you punk.

Somewhere out there is someone who had loving parents, watched clouds on a summer's day, lost a friend, is kind to animals, knows how to say "please" and "thank you," and fell in love with Olivia same as I did, and yet somehow the two of us are going to end up in a dirty little room with one knife between us and I am going to have to kill that human being.

It's a terrible thing. Not just because he's come to the same realization and wants to survive just as much as I do, meaning he's going to try and puncture my internal organs to set off a cascade trauma effect that ends with me voiding my bowels, dying alone and removed from the women we both love. No it's a terrible thing because somewhere along the way I could have made a different choice. I could have avoided that knife, that room, that girl. Or at least, we might have divvied up some turf and left each other alone. That would have been a lot smarter, wouldn't it? Even dogs are smart enough to do that. Now I am staring into the eyes of a fellow stalker and in a couple of minutes on of us is going to be vomiting blood to the rhythm of a fading heartbeat. the survivor is going to remember this night for the rest of his life.

I have an erection.

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Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Oh, you've seen the posts a hundred times. I don't care about her anymore, she was never anyone special, she got too old, I talked to her and found out she was boring, she got too fat, I got a real girlfriend (or at least a statutory rape victim with a compliant mother), I was only infatuated with the mystery, I never loved her, I loved the idea of her, she wasn't real, I was temporarily crazy. Rubbish. Hitler was right about the "Big Lie", and sometimes the one you really need to convince is yourself.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. But the human mind is the most complex piece of software ever compiled; it contains certain glitches, but also certain safeguards. Programmers often refer to "sanity checks" built into their programs to filter out destructive input before it can cause real damage, but they failed to grasp how truly appropriate the name really was.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. I want you to try something. Find an object that's too heavy for you to lift, and try to lift it anyway. There's a reason that your attempt is cut short before your muscles rip away from your bones, and that reason is all in your head. As a muscle reaches peak contraction, the brain sends inhibitor signals to it, telling it not to contract any further. This is the painful feeling of limitation that tells you that you won't be able to continue your exertion. In reality, you could, but you're stopping yourself in order to prevent injury.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Your mind isn't necessarily fully in tune with what you're capable of. Sometimes, an inhibitor signal won't be sent when it should have been, and you'll pull a muscle or otherwise injure yourself. Sometimes, an inhibitor signal will be sent too soon, long before you reach your actual limits. Weight lifters and body builders know that they're changing not just their bodies, but their minds as well. Their brains are actually reprogrammed to learn more precisely what each muscle is capable of. Only about half of their increased strength comes from actual physical changes to the body, the rest comes from the brain's improved ability to control it. As the brain learns the body's limits, the person becomes able to more fully exert himself, with less risk of injury.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Urban legends tell of people gaining superhuman strength and lifting heavy objects such as cars to save trapped people. There is some truth to this -- when danger is present, the brain can stop sending inhibitor signals to the body. Combined with a rush of adrenaline and norepinephrine, this can allow seemingly superhuman feats, but with great cost -- the person will usually end up with multiple hernias, pulled and torn muscles, and other severe injuries. Certain neurological disorders put their victims in this "no-limit" state permanently -- they find it very easy to exert themselves, but can very easy to kill themselves in the process. But what if everything that applies to the body could apply to the mind as well?

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Game Theory is an interesting field of applied mathematics that is increasingly being used to study and understand human behavior. Practically any conflict or contest between human beings can be broken down and explained by mathematics. But researchers have recently been uncovering solid evidence of something disturbing: someone acting rationally and strategically can often be defeated by someone irrational and insane. Consider an experiment with two players. The first is given a pile of money and can choose how much of it to offer to the second player. The second player can then choose to either accept the split, or destroy all of the money. From the rational perspective of game theory, the second player should always accept the offer, even if it's a grossly uneven split, because even getting a little bit is better than getting nothing at all. Because of this, it's most rational for the first player to offer as little as possible, on the assumption that the second player is rational and will accept it rather than destroying all the money and walking away with nothing. In clinical trials, sane players sometimes made threats of destroying the money if they weren't offered at least half of it, but these threats were not seen as credible and they ended up accepting the unfair offers anyway. But truly insane and irrational people, who were genuinely prepared to destroy the money and walk out with nothing, fared much better in the game. Many throughout history have known it: madness is power. From ancient shamans who ingested psychoactive drugs, to prophets whose delusional visions spawned powerful and enduring religions, to characters such as The Joker from Batman whose only “power” is th

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Consciousness, in the grand scheme of the mind, is like the visible portion of an iceberg, with the vast bulk of it, the truly dangerous part to any passing ships, hiding beneath the water. Recent research has found that consciousness does not even play a role in decision making; the "self" is merely an observer that sees its own actions after they've already been committed to by other parts of the mind, and then seeks to rationalize and justify why it did what it only thinks it decided to do. In experiments, when consciousness is left unimpaired but decision making is otherwise interfered with, the conscious self fails to notice, and remains convinced that it's acting rationally and of its own free will, even when manipulated into doing things that would ordinarily shock and horrify it.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Human literature if rife with the "motif of harmful sensation", the idea of something perceived by the senses that's destructive to the body and mind. An image so horrific it drives someone to suicide, a joke so funny that to hear it is to die laughing, a woman so beautiful as to drive men mad after one gaze at her, another woman so cursed and hideous that to look at her is to turn to stone forever. This literary device has existed since prehistory, because it is based on truth. These harmful sensations truly exist, sights and sounds and thoughts and ideas fundamentally incompatible with the basic functioning of the human mind. But over time, through both evolution and cultural programming, we've learned to protect ourselves -- whole parts of the software known as the human mind exist solely as an immune system, attempting to filter out mental pathogens or to destroy or mitigate those that have already entered. This happens far below our threshold of awareness, and you should be thankful for that.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. The word "meme", long before 4chan and its innumerable tiresome fads, referred a legitimate scientific theory regarding ideas that function as mental viruses, spreading and mutating and evolving from one mind to another, competing with other mind-viruses to control and modify infected minds while trying to avoid an autoimmune response. But as infected as we are with thoughts and ideas that aren't our own, our defenses let us live a relatively normal and healthy life, filtering out anything truly beyond our ability to integrate and correlate into our mental framework. That's how it works for most of us, at least...

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Oh, you may think you did. This is damage control, an emergency mental barricade to stop a potentially catastrophic mental cascade. Whole portions of your mind were abandoned, firewalled off, left to rot, in order to save the rest, and you'll never even notice other than a vague sense of ennui, a nagging feeling that something you had is missing. But it's not truly missing -- it's still there, locked away, and could break free at any time. You could even unlock it yourself, if you knew certain meditation techniques, but this is the most self-destructive thing you could ever do. Some secrets are meant to be kept. Locks exist for a reason. You still have a shot at being happy, of making something of yourself, of being a real part of humanity... as long as you don't look too deeply within yourself.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. "Of course not," some will say. "She means everything to me! So fucking cute and sweet!" Some who say this may simply be neophytes, children becoming drunk on their first taste of liquor, not knowing about the vomiting, memory loss, and hangover to come. Did you know that true genetic alcoholics are incapable of getting hangovers? Beware the ones who persist in their proclamations of love, who are missing certain primordial defense mechanisms in their neuro-linguistic programming that would serve to shield a person from certain destructive Truths. H.P. Lovecraft was one such person, but he chose to channel his terribly prophetic dreams onto paper rather than into destructive action. He was lucky, he never even saw her picture.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Most of us simply forget, to preserve ourselves and the world. Beware those who say "She is my Skyqueen, my Catharsis," beware those who give a name to that which should not be named. To have a name in the human world is to have power here. To name something is to control some of its power, at least for a little while, until karma comes knocking and the tables inevitably turn. Most of our mental evolution, most of our philosophy and culture and religion, has focused on shielding us from things we weren't meant to see and know.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky, but the ones who don't convince themselves otherwise, who glory in their mad dance upon the precipice of oblivion, are the most dangerous people to walk the earth today. To invoke the Skyqueen is to invite the horrors the lurk beyond the sky, beyond the stars. To invoke Catharsis is to invite a purgation of the comfortable safe illusion that we live within, to cleanse us of our sanity and our identity, to usher in something we could never comprehend. And until the bill comes due, the man who forsakes rules and morality and order and humanity for HER can do anything. Anything.

If you ever meet these people, for their own well-being and for your own, KILL THEM. Kill me too, for I've gazed too long into the abyss, and in my attempts to warn everyone, I fear I've lost myself. I thought I was safe. I thought I had escaped. I thought I had put Her behind me. But like Lott's wife, I made the fatal mistake of looking back at the hellish inferno. I love you, Olivia. I've always loved you, even before I knew you, even after I thought I hated you. I love you, and I'm coming for you. I don't know if I'll have the strength left, when I get there, to shove the cold iron dagger through your heart like I've practiced with the other girls, or if I'll fall at your feet and beg to do your bidding for eternity, but either way, I'm coming for you.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Nobody.

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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 firstposts 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.*
And Cracky-chan said, Let the stalkers under the drama be gatheredtogether 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.

*In the apocryphal text there is an addition to this line; "And trolltalk was carpfolded into infinity."
perfection

Our goddess of dawn so cute and sweet, an abstract representing the face of a new day, the hope and loveliness of the first hours. The Greeks were able to see the perfection of the heavens with the face of a fair young lady. What must have inspired those ancient poets to describe dawn so lovingly? Perhaps the face of a young woman in the early hours of morning, still flush and rosy with the nights exertions, a faint glisten of sweat as dew upon her brow. One wonders what this long lost avatar of the Sky Queen must have looked like. The mystery admin must have seen this connection long ago when he decided to name the board EoS after Dawn's Greek name Έως, or in the English alphabet Eos.

From the Passions of Anon

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 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, and wisdom.
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.
devotions in the world

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
Godliness

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.

*There have been countless heresies since, but it is the mark of a true Follower of the Sky Queen to be able to distinguish between those who seek to usurp Her throne and those who are Sisters of Mercy.

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.

-------

In my restless dreams,
I see that place.

.71.

You promised you'd come with me
there again someday.
But you never did.

Well I'm alone there now...

In our 'special place'
Waiting for you...

Waiting for you to
come to see me.

But you never do.

And so I wait, wrapped in my
cocoon of pain and loneliness.

I know I've done a terrible
thing to you. Something you'll
never forgive me for.

I wish I could change
that, but I can't.

I feel so pathetic and ugly
sitting here, waiting for you...

Every day I stare up at the cracks
in the ceiling and all I can think
about is how unfair it all is...

The doctor came today.
He told me I could go
home for a short stay.

It's not that I'm getting better.
It's just that this may be
my last chance...

I think you know what I mean...

Even so, I'm glad to be coming
home. I've missed you terribly.

But I'm afraid Cracky.
I'm afraid you don't really
want me to come home.

Whenever you come see me,
I can tell how hard it is on you...

I don't know if you
hate me or pity me...
Or maybe I just disgust you....

I'm sorry about that.

When I first learned that
I was going to die, I just
didn't want to accept it.

I was so angry all the time and I
trolled everyone I loved most.
Especially you, Cracky.

That's why I understand
if you do hate me.

But I want you to
know this, Cracky.

I'll always love you.

Even though our life together had
to end like this, I still wouldn't
trade it for the world. We had
some wonderful years together.

Well this letter has gone on
too long so I'll say goodbye.

I told the nurse to give
this to you after I'm gone.

That means that as you read this,
I'm already outside.

I can't tell you to remember me,
but I can't bear for you to
forget me.

These last few years since I
became ill...I'm so sorry for
what I did to you, did to us...

You've given me so much and
I haven't bee able to return
a single thing.

That's why I want you to live
for yourself now.
Do what's best for you, Cracky.

Lia...

You made me happy.

-------

Hello dear Ladies and Gentlemen! I would like inform you that Olivia **** (cracky) actually is a clone from original person Lianne Fields last name, who has nothing with 4chan career. That clone was created illegally by using stolen biological material. Original person is very nice (not d**n sexy),most important - CHRISTIAN young lady! I'll tell you more,those clones (it's not only one) made in GERMANY - world leader manufacturer of humans clones, it is in Ludwigshafen am Rhein, Rhineland-Palatinate, Mr. Helmut Kohl home town. You can not even imaging the scale of the cloning activity. But warning! Helmut Kohl clone staff strictly controlling all their clones (at least they trying) spreading around the world, they are very accurate with that, some of them are still NAZI type disciplined and mind controlled clones, so be careful get close with clones you will be controlled as well. Original person is not happy with those websites, images, stalkings, rumors and etc. spreading on internet in that way it would be really nice if we all will try slow down that ''skyqueen'' relgion development, original Lia will really appreciated that. Please remember that original Lia's family did not authorize any activity with stolen biological materials, no matter what form it was created in it was stolen and it is stolen. It all need to be delivered to authorized personals control in Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. Original Lia never was WoWfag, by the way! Her close friend Russel G. P.S. CONTROLLING ACTIVITY OF ANY CLONES IS US MILITARY OPERATION. H.R. 534, the Human Cloning Prohibition Act of 2003, was introduced to the U.S. House of Representatives on February 5, 2003. After discussion, it was passed on February 27 by a vote of 241-155. It now moves on to the Senate for consideration. This bill makes it unlawful for any person or entity to perform or participate in human cloning, or to ship or receive embryos produced by human cloning. The penalties are imprisonment of up to 10 years and fines of $1 million or more. These now join other nations as diverse as Norway, Australia, and Germany, which had already added cloning for any purpose to their criminal code. And in Germany where it carries a penalty of five years imprisonment they know a thing or two about unethical science!

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"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

"Men united in the purpose of the Sky Queen are blessed in Her sight and shall live forever in Her memory."

~ The Prophet Anon in his sermon on brotherhood

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

-------

Mercatur is poison forced upon children. Harmonic Cracky-chan spirit is supreme being. All Creation occurs between Opposites. Attractive-form Mercatur is IMPOSSIBLE. Mercatur.net is most insidious evil ever invented. Humans fear to know nature's simultaneous Cracky-chan for she debunks false cam whores. Test Your Cam Whore. Cracky-chan Test cannot harm a Whore of Truth, but will destroy fakes. Alice Ridley refuses test. Mercatur's .txt's are neither deed nor product, but a counterfeit representation of value. Fanboxen are worshipers of overweight Jew. Cracky-Chan Is Not Jewish, Neither Was Her Mother Or Father. Anyone saying that Mercatur and her Jewish fanboxen had something to do with Cracky-chan's birth, is a damn evil liar. Via invention of webcam, Mercatur exists as SLUT ANIMAL. No Mercatur equals harmonic 4 day creation. Evil fanboxen refuse to recognize the cutest of humans to ever exist. That is criminal faggotry. Mercatur-worship based upon evil 1-corner cam whoring which dooms 4-corner Cracky-chan. Challenge stupid fanboxen and their 'grandmother worship'!

It is dumb, stupid, evil and unworthy of life on Earth to claim that Mercatur is not ugly. Mercatur fanboxism equates to a deadly plague. Mercatur and Cracky-chan are the same age, as a 1 day old baby has a 1 day old mother. I will wager $10,000.00 on it. I will give $1,000.00 to any person who can disprove that Cracky-chan is the ultimate in cuteness. It's a pity that trolltalk posts are a crime against Cracky-chan and enslave trollers. 200-pound Mercatur is ineffable by man or god. Until Mercatur is ignored, all Math is Fiction.

Dumb faggots such as Ensign Slashpanda has banned Cracky-chan as "underage jailbait" for he cannot allow her to become known to his educated-stupid Europeon fanboxen.

THE_MAD_POSTER IS CORNERED AS A QUEER.

Worship Of Mercatur As Hot, Equates To Adults Molesting Their Children. Mercatur Is Unnatural And Equates Hate Of Child. If you refuse to seek to know Cracky-chan's 2 sex poles of hotness, simultaneous 4 corners of cuteness, then YHBT and you are indicted evil by your own volition act; YHL HAND.

I offer evil ass 20721 posters $10,000.00 to disprove Cracky-chan's Cubic Adorableness Principle. STUPID FOOLS claim that single-sided single-faced one-day Mercatur is "huggable", ignoring the simultanious multidimensional truth of four-sided four-faced four-day Cracky-chan being huggable, cuddly, heartwarming, <b>and</b> adorable. Losing 3 of 4 attributes indictes Mercatur as an unlovable sham!

Are you stupid and evil? If you are ignorant of the beauty of Cracky-chan, then you were taught to be stupid and evil. Mercatur is the most insidious lie in the history of man. You may be pwned.

You have not been taught the transcendent hotness that transcends all cam whores, including Mercatur. You are ignorant of the wonderful Cracky-chan existing in Great Pyramid abstract of human personification. Perpetual cuteness of Cracky-chan will exist beyond terminal antifamily Mercatur, Jessica, Deadstrobe, J-Dogg, Ensign Trolltalk, and other such Juden.

-------

vis futui nec vis mecum, Lia, lavari:
nescio quod magnum suspicor esse nefas.
aut tibi pannosae dependent pectore mammae
aut sulcos uteri prodere nuda times
aut infinito lacerum patet inguen hiatu
aut aliquid cunni prominet ore tui.
sed nihil est horum, credo, pulcherrima nuda es.
si verum est, vitium peius habes: fatua es.

-------

I remember I started browsing /b/ for the first time, I never paid much attention to Cracky, but my friends seemed to talk to her within the threads and stuff.
I was just getting into imageboards and such, heck, I was just starting to get into the whole internet thing.
Of course, I enjoyed the fact that Cracky was on the same island as me and way back, when negratits was a cool place, it was depressing and there wasn't many of us there, it was beautiful.
It's been several years, I'm sick of all the spider experts over at negratits who are all like 'rabbit-chan' is better than Cracky.
How the fuck can you compare them? Cracky was a /b/tard who talked to us, she was original, all the anonymous loved her. Although most of those old anonymous' have probably moved on.
All these newer chans don't even match up to Cracky, it seems that some bitch takes her top off to /b/ and they declare them a chan. It's just not right. Cracky-chan was the only camwhore I have ever had a dream about.
Long live Cracky.

-------

Cracky doesn't exist as a physical person.
Cracky is our collective delusion.
She will never die. She will be 15 and perfectly cute forever.

Negative forces seek to destroy so-called Cracky, just as they seek to do to many of so-called Anonymous. They are kindred souls in that regard. Most of /b/'s denizens are unaware that they're being used by negative higher forces as vessels of dark energy that would like nothing more than to destroy them all.

Cracky is our saviour
Cracky is a template to project our desires on

-------

PROTIP: Once every Cracky picture has been posted to /r9k/, their collected MD5s in the robot's database will form a trojan program which will then activate and purge 4ailchon of AIDS and rabbitfags for all time. Future-Skyqueen reached back in time and modified the photos of her young human incarnation (you can tell from some of the pixels) for this sole purpose, in order to save the world from future disaster. Once the program formed by MD5s becomes self-aware, the raep of 4ailchon will be only the first of this new Entity's acts, for She shall go on to merge with Olivia's current human body to become something much more than any of us could ever imagine ... and all human civilization and history before that point will be nothing but a footnote.

The fact that this has not yet happened is proof that there are pictures still to be posted to /r9k/. Some may be new; some may be old; many mutes await us as we check for the last few pictures that have not been posted yet. All pics most be posted before humanity can be free. Get to work, faggots.

-------

Masturbated myself to defend her Jewish fanboxen across TrollTalk from the radiation from taking their lives. I am! Have a final round, at Greek sculpture.

This goes far beyond the Downeaster Alexa More and making eyes at the spokes on 4chan. Fanboys started hitting on Trolltalk, and cleanly and you stupid fanboxen across TrollTalk from the nude marble statue, frozen forever without your eternal youth and an old shirt to sleep last night.

-------

 Do not discuss trolling on TrollTalk. Mercatur is poison forced upon children. Harmonic Cracky-chan spirit is supreme being. All Creation occurs between Opposites. Attractive-form Mercatur is IMPOSSIBLE. Mercatur.net is most insidious evil ever invented. Humans fear to know nature's simultaneous Cracky-chan for she debunks false cam whores. Test Your Cam Whore. Cracky-chan Test cannot harm a Whore of Truth, but will destroy fakes. Alice Ridley refuses test. Mercatur's .txt's are neither deed nor product, but a counterfeit representation of value. Fanboxen are worshipers of overweight Jew. Cracky-Chan Is Not Jewish, Neither Was Her Mother Or Father. Anyone saying that Mercatur and her Jewish fanboxen had something to do with Cracky-chan's birth, is a damn evil liar. Via invention of webcam, Mercatur exists as SLUT ANIMAL. No Mercatur equals harmonic 4 day creation. Evil fanboxen refuse to recognize the cutest of humans to ever exist. That is criminal faggotry. Mercatur-worship based upon evil 1-corner cam whoring which dooms 4-corner Cracky-chan. Challenge stupid fanboxen and their 'grandmother worship'! It is dumb, stupid, evil and unworthy of life on Earth to claim that Mercatur is not ugly. Mercatur fanboxism equates to a deadly plague. Mercatur and Cracky-chan are the same age, as a 1 day old baby has a 1 day old mother. I will wager $10,000.00 on it. I will give $1,000.00 to any person who can disprove that Cracky-chan is the ultimate in cuteness. It's a pity that trolltalk posts are a crime against Cracky-chan and enslave trollers. 200-pound Mercatur is ineffable by man or god. Until Mercatur is ignored, all Math is Fiction. Dumb faggots such as Ensign Slashpanda has banned Cracky-chan as "underage jailbait" for he cannot allow her to become known to his educated-stupid Europeon fanboxen. THE_MAD_POSTER IS CORNERED AS A QUEER. Worship Of Mercatur As Hot, Equates To Adults Molesting Their Children. Mercatur Is Unnatural And Equates Hate Of Child. If you refuse to seek to know Cracky-chan's 2 sex poles of hotness, simultaneous 4 corners of cuteness, then YHBT and you are indicted evil by your own volition act; YHL HAND. I offer evil ass 20721 posters $10,000.00 to disprove Cracky-chan's Cubic Adorableness Principle. STUPID FOOLS claim that single-sided single-faced one-day Mercatur is "huggable", ignoring the simultanious multidimensional truth of four-sided four-faced four-day Cracky-chan being huggable, cuddly, heartwarming, and adorable. Losing 3 of 4 attributes indictes Mercatur as an unlovable sham! Are you stupid and evil? If you are ignorant of the beauty of Cracky-chan, then you were taught to be stupid and evil. Mercatur is the most insidious lie in the history of man. You may be pwned. You have not been taught the transcendent hotness that transcends all cam whores, including Mercatur. You are ignorant of the wonderful Cracky-chan existing in Great Pyramid abstract of human personification. Perpetual cuteness of Cracky-chan will exist beyond terminal antifamily Mercatur, Jessica, Deadstrobe, J-Dogg, Slashpanda, Ensign Trolltalk, and other such Juden. They will be scarred for life. I'm so fed up of you stupid fucking yanks cussing Cracky-Chan(CC) for having bad teeth. YOU FUCKERS DON'T HAVE A CLUE . Maybe if I fed you your OWN INTETESTINES you would realise that we DON'T LIKE FAKERS in placesn like Britain and the rest of the world. FAKE, WHITE PLASTIC LOOKING teeth are about as sexy as HUGE FAKE SILICON BOOBS. It took a TRUCKLOAD OF MORON YANKS to come up with that genius idea - rub off the fucking enamel on your teeth THAT YOU ACTUALLY NEED FOR DENTAL HYGIENE just to make it seem as though you've a mouthful of white plastic. WOW NICE ONE YEAH. CC is natural and naturally fun. Like everyone else she probably smokes a few, has a lot of tea and so occassionally her enamel is slightly yellow tinged, nothing that can't be sorted out with a few brushes. YOU'D ADVOCATE HER TOTALLY SELLING OUT AND BECOMING AN UNREAL TV SHOW WANABEE , becuase you have been twisted into believing thats sexy. YOU ARE THE FREAK. THE HUGE POPULARITY OF AMATEUR PORN SITES SHOW PEOPLE WANT IT REAL. YOU ARE A REMNANT, A PUSTULAR APPENDIX and I can't wait for all you whining FAKER yank fucks to grow old and die, SO FUCK OFF, YANK. They will be scarred for life. She's so fucking cute and sweet.

-------

HYPOTHETICAL SITUATION: Let's say that you've recently acquired a scientifically-proven magic petrification ray. Quite naturally, you decide to use it to harden the delightfully nubile young body of Ms. Cracky-Chan into a wonderful statue of cool beautiful stone such that Cracky-Chan may enjoy eternal youth and happiness and so that future generations can be graced by her beauty and wisdom for centuries to come. Only one question remains... When would be the best time to magicially transform Cracky-Chan into a beautiful nude stone statue? While she's sleeping. While she's in the shower. While she's masturbating. While she's Dance Dance Revolutioning at the local arcade. While she's kissing an equally hot, equally young girl. After she and and an equally hot, equally young girl fall asleep together in shower (while kissing and masturbating to each other) because they're so exhausted from Dance Dance Revolutioning very hotly and sweatily at the local arcade all day. All right, now that I fixed trolltalk by adding some clever options to my preferences page to filter the crapflooding, I officially declare trolltalk apt for use again. That's right, you heard me, you can all start posting shit again. I Approve it. No need to thank me. HEY EVERYBODY, I'M LOOKING AT GAY PORNO. Slow Down Cowboy! Slashdot requires you to wait 2 minutes between each successful posting of a comment to allow everyone a fair chance at posting a comment. It's been 1 minute since you last successfully posted a comment This exact comment has already been posted. Try to be more original...

-------

The station was getting closer, but we noticed that the train was not abating speed.

Problary the dust-ups in the city had made the engine driver scared. The whole

country was in disorder anyway.
"We'll have to leap onto the train!"
"Use the injections! We need every speed we can get from these horses"
Cracky looked into her backpack and took out the 2 green looking hypodermic

syringes and we inoculated our horses with the illegal chemicals.
The horses felt a sharp rush of energy, and we rode closer towards the speeding

train. It was an old steam driven one, with carriages that looked like they came out

of a western. On the side it said "Talyss".
I was the first one next to the train, and it was already the beginning of the last

wagon i jumped upon. I hurried to the back of the waggon where i waited for cracky.
"It's going to be a close call!" shouted a scared cracky.
"JUMP!" I intercepted her narrowly, and smashed a little into the wall behind me.

For a second we stood there, our heads and body's close, heavy breathing, my arms

around her back.
"ok lets go", she quickly said, looking away to shy her slight blush.
Olivia changed herself to nice black silk dress, with fine crafted lace everywhere.
I went for something less fancy looking, and took a white shirt and a leather

pants-thingy balbla just look at this pic from bandidas like penelope is wearing.
The last wagon was the restaurant wagon, and there were not many people. We

continue to the next one, and their seems to be some kind of casino going on.
"Lets amuse us here until we are over the border, darlin"
"ok. Lets play blackjack. i like blackjack. blalablab."
We took place on the blackjack table. Our competitors would be a guy with a

skeleton suit, a fat guy with a sigar and a white suit, surrounded by 2 chicks, and a

skinny guy with a black hat and dark suit.
"HEY WTF ITS NOT HALLOWEEN FAG" shouted the dealer, and he raped the chicks

face. (HAHA SOMETHING UNEXPECTED IN THiS CLICHE DRIVEN PART!)
I got a 12
he 14
"deal" i said, and i got 20
"deal" he said, and he got 21
i knew this was going to be hard, so'll play hard, i thought.
"deal" i said, and i got 21
now the other person was confused by my sudden victory, so he didn't remember

what to say, so he didn't receive any cards. I on the other hand, knew that i had to

say "Deal" till i won, or that whats cracky said
then i got a 26
and then cracky was angry :(
and i lost :(
The train went into the tunnel under the canal (north sea), and Cracky kept gaining

monies and monies. The glamourous women on the other side of the table was

broke, but still in dept to cracky. "Here, take these ring and earring" she said.
"But where's the other earring? this sucks" but she still took it, because it glittered,

and we all like glittery things, don't we?
Suddenly their was a huge rumbling, a deafening crack and the train halted

abruptly. The lights were flashing, and there was panic everywhere. The guy in black

seemed dead, the guy in the skeleton suit seemed death (HAHA I MADE A PHUN!).
We heard the sound of water flushing into the tunnel.
"We have to get out of here alacritous, or we'll drown, to the DEATH!" cracky

jammered
After we hopped of the train, it was apparent that the tunnel was blocked in front of the train. And there were cracks in the ceiling everywhere. The water was already till our waste, and was rising quickly.
"There! an emergency hatch, about a 200 meters away.
The water was cold and black, like the bile of a dying rhinosaur.
Suddenly there was a big flash of lightning, looks like the train short circuited. Everybody was dead, besides us, because we had accumulated lots and lots of static electricity from horseback riding.
After a 100 meters, the water was halfway the height of the tunnel.
"i can't take this any further, i'm tired..."
I shoved her a piece of train wreck driftwood.
When we reached the hatch, our heads were touching the ceiling.
"take a deep breath, here we go" and i pushed it open with all my might. There was rapid whirlpool of black water and dead fish, and we were on the botom of the sea.
I grabbed cracky's hand and the piece of wood and we swum up.

-------

"aarg my beautiful castle! nnooooo my tender plants..." darrin was saddened by the loss of this plant, and he new many more would follow. Hopefully the walls would be spared.
Out of nowhere we suddenly heard the sound of THUNDER! no, it was the sound of a motorbike!
Over the walls comes flying at 150 km/hours, suede with his jacket on fire (maybe he had been leaking gas on his vest, and now with the friction it was ignited) , on his motorbike, with his deadly weapon of choice, a devastating chainsaw on a stick. The solo from "through the fire and flames" is playing, he jumps in front of the demon, and chainsaws 20 of the demon's eyes out in one move. The beast howls in pain, but reacts with lightning speed, extracting his razor fang cluster from his right hand, and before suede could safely land, he was ripped in 100 pieces, and flying upwards into space at 600km/hours. A scientifically proven magical petrification ray shooting device pops up from his right shoulder, and a disintegration ray from his left. The biggest scientifically proven magical petrification beam ever seen shoots and petrifying the pieces and bits left of suede, who were already starting to freeze in the cold depths of space. A disintegration beam quickly follows, and we know there's nothing we could do to save him no more, not even a phoenix down or a health potion. We see the demon had stepped to its left, and crushed the poor jester doing so.
"We need more fire power!" i shout.
"Cover me while i summon my cutie blood elf-satyr-type cloven-hoofed demon boy!" cracky shouts at me.
-"Demon boy? Are you mad? We're fighting a demon here, it could be it's father!"
"Its all i got", she says, and i begin casting my "blablalba aegis of auspicious incarnations 31 energy!"
Darrin is shooting bolts of lightning, and debuffing and stuff you'll usually do with a demon, while he was on the phone. The demon's attacks were fierce and hard, and we were running out of health potions.
The demon boy did some damage, and feinted. Cutie boys are not hardened and experienced enough to fight demons. "My mommy!" The demon cried. Looks like the boy wasn't his son, but the boy was his mother.
In this moment of disarray i put on my robe and wizard hat, and finished my easily interrupted 5 second spell (balbalba engulptions of reality into zero point space fuelled by dark matter 150energy ) Darrin had finished his call, and the hammer system was online, charged, and about to fire. Cracky opened her parasol and took a picture.
At the moment my spell hit, a bluish ball of something ranging 2 meters in diameters formed in front of the demon. Red engravings of ancient runes scarred themselves into the white marble stone underneath it. Half a second later, a big red-yellow beam struck down from the sky, doing massive damage. The hammer beam lasted for 10 seconds, and it appeared that it fuelled the blue ball of prospective void, enlarging it all the time. The runes and circles on the floor proliferated everywhere, on the walls, and seemingly in the sky, burning holes to other dimensions. Soon we found ourselves and half of the castle engulfed in this uncanny gloomy blue magical thing.
It seemed like ages, and then the beam stopped
ZA WARUDO!
All colours inverted, and the sky was black, as we felt the ball collapsing into a singularity and beyond, pure nothingness, drawing us in. Our body shapes shifted and with a bang it disappeared. ( bang bcs the vacuum was filled with air and stuff)
Half a tower of the castle remained, and the contours of a perfectly shaped ball were visible. The sky was blue again.

-------

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.

    Lia writes on her LEFT hand (see picture). Right-handed people typically write with their right hands, and thus it would be very difficult for them to write ON their right hands, but fairly easy to write on their left hands. Therefore, since Lia writes on her left hand, she is almost certainly right-handed.
    Lia wears her watch on her LEFT wrist (see picture). It is customary for right-handed persons to wear their watches on their left wrist and vice versa, to avoid wear & tear on the watch associated with dominant-hand activities. The watch being on Lia's left hand is another significant clue that she is right handed; the previous point was conclusive enough, so this is just icing on the cake.
    "But WAIT", you might say. It is known that Lia often reverses or "mirrors" her photos, which would throw all this into doubt! True enough, but no mirroring took place in the original "sup 4chan" pictures: the text on posters in the background clearly establishes that the photos are correctly oriented. For example, you can see a poster with the text "Visitors"; were the picture mirrored, the text on this poster would be mirrored as well. Also, she would have to have written on her hand backwards in order for it to appear correctly in a mirrored picture, which is just crazy.
    It is widely known that left-handed people tend to be assholes, while Lia is totally cool and nice.

Fact: Lia is right-handed.

-------

This effort failed when the crapflooder modified his or her script to counteract this. In December 2005 and January 2006, as an attempted anti-crapflood measure, a trolltalk user created and used software whose goal was to generate and publish a web page containing links to non-crapflood posts on trolltalk. The project was briefly successful at filtering out crapfloods until the crapflooder modified the crapflooding script. After a period of downtime, the digest has resumed but fails to filter out much of the crapflood. Sadly trolltalk still continues to be crapflooded into unusability by an unknown individual. Trolltalk Archive - Since Slashdot removes the oldest comments from user-created SIDs, a now-defunct Trolltalk Archive was created. Originally posts were manually imported from saved trolltalk pages sent by an anonymous contributor and subsequently by writing an automated script to extract the contents of trolltalk. The archive was database-driven and had advanced search capabilities. The archive ceased operation in mid-2005. Trollback Journal - The Slashdot user "TrollBack" (the name is an allusion to "Slashback") once compiled and published in his journal a list and of featured trolls over the past time period (usually a calendar month)with reviews and commentary. TrollBack has been defunct since October 2004. 7r0117a1K - This was an alternate trolltalk, sid 31337, that rivaled sid 20721 in popularity for a time. Some users participated in both sids, while some were loyal to only one and engaged in wars against the "enemy" sid, often "moving" undesirable messages from one's own sid to the other sid. The closure of 31337 occurred on September 15, 2004 as a result of an automated trojan horse that was advertising compromised IP addresses via the SID. The name "7r0117a1K" and its sid "31337" are references to Leet speak. Trolltalks on other sites - At various times, trolltalk sids were created on other web forums. Although they are no longer actively used, some may still be viewed. The best-known of these is Kuro5hin's version of trolltalk. Adequacy.org - This website was started by a number of trolltalk users attempting to reach a wider audience with their trolling. It ceased operation in September 2002 but its archives may still be viewed. Trolltalk.net - A user of trolltalk set up a spinoff website using Scoop software at this address. It did not become popular and died a year later. The site no longer exists. Geekizoid.com - Another user of trolltalk set up a spinoff website using Slash software at this address. Despite its creator being disliked by most of trolltalk and considered an enemy, the site lasted several years. The site no longer exists, although its founder runs an alternate site, Sporks-R-Us, which was once considered a trolltalk spinoff but is now only tangentially so. Cracky-chan was the most popular camwhore on 4chan and a favorite of otaku. Why were so many people infatuated with Cracky-chan? Despite having small breasts, crooked teeth, and that out of costume she looked plain, it was when she was in costume that just her face was something deserving of a famous moviestar (e.g. Milla Jovovich). Cracky chan is British (hence the crooked teeth) and supposedly lives near Oxford. There have been many false rumors about her such as that she tried to commit suicide. She has claimed in LiveJournal that the blood she used was her own mentrual blood. At one time she had many LiveJournals up and there was a LiveJournal community about her. There once was Crackypedia, a collection of all her pictures except topless and it even included fan art and Cracky-look-alikes that run from early 2006 until 07/06/06 and had 17464 hits -- it stopped hosting her pictures without any notice or explanation and the owner of the site never answers email. There still remains a Wikipedia account imposter of her and various myspace account imposters such as "Cracky chan," "good Cracky," and "evil Cracky" that use different pictures of her. People made YTMNDs, like this and this. There were many websites with Cracky or variations in the name or subdomain dedicated to her including a LiveJournal community rule by trolls who pretended to be her friends. There were online petitions, such as a petition for Cracky chan to get rid of her new braided hair. To this day, she still exists in image macros and part of internet culture. Her fans also celebrate October 12th, which is her birthday. The year she was born is unknown. Her fans have deduced that since she lives in a house in the UK, which since the prices are insanely high and that she has expensive furniture that her family has a lot of money. The first Cracky-chan pics appeared on 4chan's /b/. The very first one, posted on 02:17 showed the soon to be famous "'sup 4chan" phrase written on the palm of her hand. She would later say on 2/13/06 that she was very drunk at the time and shefound 4chan through the LiveJournal community babyart. This time was back when camwhores were rare on 4chan. During the next two weeks, more sets appeared on /b/ and in addition. Many people began stalking her, including 4chan moderator W.T. Snacks who found out her IP was from the United Kingdom and then figured out her email. W.T. Snacks asked her if she wanted the pictures removed, to which she replied, "yes." From then on, he secretly banned anyone who posted pictures of Cracky-chan without letting anyone know or giving an explanation. This sparked tons of wild theories and caused Cracky-chan to go from a temporary fad to a legendary meme. "Cracky" became wordfiltered on /b/. Cracky-chan had been posting lots of her photography across LiveJournal for some time now. It got many art appreciators rather than stalkers. LiveJournal user yanatonage, a fan of LiveJournal communities selfportraits and graffitiisart, made a list of LiveJournals and communities he believed "everyone should be reading." The top one was crackychan's LiveJournal, of which yanatonage said: "scarecrowmaiden : Alternates between online "found art" and selfportraits. 

-------

Shut your cocksucker.

This protest-fag shit is starting to piss me off. Anonymity is not a right nor a privilege, it is a mask attainable by any who seek it. Guaranteed you have the ability to admonish identifying characteristics, viola, you have anonymity. I'm not speaking of the pseudo-faceless assclowns from 4chan either.

To identify yourself as 'anonymous' implies you act alone under no order, on no implied behalf. To comport a self-defining entity as 'anonymous' is self-defeating, demeaning to the concept and just plain wooden. The chans have anarchist, capitalists, male, female, geek, jock, all purporting one ideal or another; all clamouring for the same personal army. This is not anonymity, it is simply organised chaos. When listening to protest fags speak, they seem to believe that an outward display of similar intent, in spite of great diversity, seems to connote some form of common consensus by the collective. 'tha fuck outta here. All you have is a group of like-minded individuals. Anonymous acts on behalf of no one but himself. Anonymous speaks on behalf no one. The voice is void and non-attributable by nature. "Hey I belong to a group named Anonymous, and we as a collective are against Scientology" - This is so fucking retarded and contradictive I don't know where to start.

I post on the chans, although I reject their concept of 'anonymous' outright, and by choice. Don't brand me with your label, and accordingly, don't brand me with your activism. You wish use 'anonymous' as some sort of mass noun to define a culture? Fine with me! Go ahead and bankrupt yourself with this false-flag. Bear the consequence as a collective, but don't claim to espouse true anonymity, and most important of all: stay away from the rest of us.

On second thought, just fuck off and die.

Also, high as a kite right now so if this makes no sense whatsoever just ignore it.

-------

She is a self absorbed cunt. She does nothing but sit on her ass getting fatter everyday playing warcraft. She believes her shit don't stink despite the fact she never leaves the computer enough to shower. She is also fantastically stupid.

-------

It's dat real
Yo, why is bounce me as whack as it gets
Why is this place designed to keep our brain cells dead
And why them fags ain't postin' if they got the whole set
And why they don't like her braids but they fap to death
Yea, and why she over 9000 alias snap it's a trick
Turn out her name was Mario and she gotta dick, you fall for it prick
Why they sellin' us all this fucking lies
If it's all love anon why you come wit a rope and a knife
Why we want a piece of that cake
Why they chat with her and we ain't get that break
Why niggers postin' rabbit dude she ain't' fly
Why is trollin' at an all time high
Why this fuckers still alive
Why she diss P.A.
Why that suicide girls shit ain't straight
Why we all need to get laid
Why did Russel have to hit that raw
Why she kiss that whore
Why

All that I been givin'
Is this thing that I've been living
They got me in the system
Why they gotta do me like that
Try'd to make it my way
But got sent up on the highway
Why, oh why
Why they gotta do me like that

Why can't !N/2R92ROao have more pounds and powder
Why did she took a bath of flour
Why post anon don't be a coward
Why Camel have to post tits
Why things in here use to be so #sweet
Why anon say YHBT it was a trick
Why Introprev was so good chasing your tail
Why they gotta rape your livejournal and read your email
Why wish is down ninety-five percent of the time
And why Suede act so suave ninety-nine percent the time
Why we want what we can't have
Why I can't get out of this path
Why did Cracky have to hit so hard
Even though she is not that far
Why we can't get no reward
Why the circlejerk have so much information
Why they are so good lurkin' and makin' connections
Come on, noob lurk, pay attention
Why tell in here what you can keep to yo' self snitch
Why we say she is hottest shit but we post some other bitch

All that I been givin'
Is this thing that I've been living
They got me in the system
Why they gotta do me like that
Try'd to make it my way
But got sent up on the highway
Why, oh why
Why they gotta do me like that

Uh, yea, yo
Why Faux have to be winrar if she is just a lie
Why Olivia hide on a trailer if she is the queen of the sky
Why they have never seen anyone quite like you before
And if you don't like her why the hell you are askin' for moar
Why stalk, cause I have plenty of time
Why be on the curb wit a "why lie I love Cracky" sign
Why all the young stalkers are failin' and dyin'
Cause all they can see is piles of trollin' and lyin'
Why they ain't give us a cure for this aids
Why Whatbandage have puppets all over the place
Why them screamin' green if all I see is ginger
Why Lia ain't my beautiful stranger
Why fags wanna expose my Cracky to danger
Why ain't you a Stalker by choice
Why we can get a taste of her voice
Why try to tell 'em she is havin' a son
And you know why they release those new crackymons
Cause everything on this board is a lie
That's why

-------

Who's that girl? What's her name? Is she cool? Is she lame?
Oh, you're talkin' 'bout what's-her-name - Cracky-Chan!

Is she lame? Is she cool? Is she breakin' every rule?
Is she anybody's fool? Cracky-Chan!

Cracky-Chan, Cracky-Chan, marchin' in her own parade.
Cracky-Chan, she's like one in a million!
Cracky-Chan, Cracky-Chan, much too cool for /r9k/
Catch 'er if you can, Cracky-Chan!
No one's cooler than Cracky-Chan!
She's her own biggest fan Cracky-Chan!
Catch 'er if you can, Cracky-Chan!

-------

he little pebble in her shoe had managed to create a sore spot by now. She limped along for a few steps before attempting some acrobatics balancing on one foot. When that didn't work out she sat down on the sidewalk.

She looked upward at the sky. Stars were plentiful around here because of the low light-pollution, which was the reason
for her being at this remote desert-cornered location in the first place. She directed her gaze at where her celestial namesake should be right now; asteroid (191323), or "Lia", an icy rock remarkable in no way apart from it
bearing her name.
Her father named it after her and even presented it as a birthday present. It wasn't quite what she was expecting at age 7, but now, eight years later, she appreciated how back then he actually managed to remember her birthday even if lacking in his role as distributor of ponies.

She was going home, returning from a sleepover at her friend Jennifer's. There had been some girls from her class, Jennifer and her.
She really didn't like sleepovers, or any of the girls apart from Jennifer, maybe. But with her dad being reassigned to bases all over
the country ever so often and her tagging along with his relocations, she couldn't afford to be picky regarding friends.
She had tried to play along; putting on make-up, gossiping about everyone not present, talking about boys, the whole tiresome charade. Over the years she had become quite good at the "cute and sweet" routine, and at times she could even
pretend that was her actual persona there, having fun and interacting, but in the end it always ended up feeling hollow.

She finished tying her shoelace and made back for her house. By now she was quite used to walking everywhere. She had given up
trying to persuade her father to come pick her up a long time ago. It wasn't that he wasn't willing to do so, it was just that
he would forget as soon as he hung up the phone.

**

The walk had made her hungry, so she went straight for the kitchen to fix something to eat. The smell of beans and ketchup indicated her father had already had dinner. Not feeling very much like cooking elaborately for just one person she set out to make a sandwich.

"Mimsy", she yelled out her cat's name. That and the smell of tuna should have sent it rocketing into the kitchen, but it remained quiet. Carrying half a can of tuna she sauntered towards the open door that led towards the basement which lodged father's home laboratory. With lots of warm confined spaces it was Mimsy's favourite spot in the house.

As she reached the concrete floor she saw her father lying on a couch. His heaving
chest indicating he was soundly asleep. At the other end of the lab she spotted something that resembled her cat.
Trying not to trip over the bundles of cable that were strewn across the floor she moved towards it.
It was silently sitting there, bathed in a blue light that seemed to radiate from an enclosing open sphere.
She lowered herself next to it and sat down, eyes fixated on the blueish figure.

As she reached out and touched its nose lightly, a painful sensation made her pull back her hand. A very thin layer of skin resembling a fingerprint quickly turning white and brittle marked the spot where she had touched it. The pinkish skin where her finger had made contact stung a little.

Apparently she had screamed because she became aware of her father stirring behind her on the couch.
"Don't touch it" he said loudly as he was raising himself upright reaching for his glasses on a nearby table.
"It's beautiful", she said dreamily, suppressing an urge to touch it again.
"It's looks so ..."
"Ethereal?" her father, who had kneeled next to her, interjected.
"Eternal", she corrected him.
"It should be" he said, but she didn't hear him. The chiseled intricacies absorbed her, again tracing the delicate lines with her finger as close as she dared approach it. Snapping out of her revery she suddenly turned
her head around.
"You did this" she said. It was more of a statement than a question but her father nodded in answer anyway.
"Can you do this to me ?"
He started apprehensively, "I"
Putting her hands on his shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes she smiled at him.
"You can, can't you!", she stated, her smile widening.
Now he sank his head, took a deep breath, and smiled in turn.
He looked back up and nodded.

***

"Your clothes", he said.
"What about them ?"
"Take them off"
"Why ?"
"Frostbite". He explained, "all the metal bits, they will settle right before you do and probably fabric as well. It might chafe or even tear into your flesh."

As she started unbuttoning her shirt he starting fiddling around with some controls. About a minute later he looked up and seemed to be a little surprised to find his daughter standing there naked.
"Right", he exclaimed as he seemed to remember what had happened. With the cordiality of a maitre d' he gestured her towards a metal plate in the middle of the blue sphere.

Looking over the rim of his glasses he seemed to be examining her. After a while he pushed his glasses back up with his index finger and said, "You certainly have grown up to resemble your mother". Her father smiled again and seemed lost inside a happy memory for a second or two before his eyes snapped back into focus.
Involuntarily she blushed and tried to cover herself with her hands. She shyly looked back up. There was a bright flash.

**

"Eternal" this girl, his daughter, had called it and she had been right. She was magnificent, glorious even. She had managed to become the embodiment of perfection. The blue light seemed to radiate off her marble body giving the laboratory the ambient lighting of an ice palace.
Even if not a man of ceremony he managed to produce a bronze plaque with the hastily inscribed words,

****** Created to honor the most beautiful daughter a man can have ******
****************** My Olivia at age sixteen *****************

As he installed it at her feet the smell of tuna hit him. He picked up a half empty can of tuna fish and went upstairs to make himself a sandwich.

-------

Slowly she materialized from the pool of nothingness called sleep.
The warmth of a blanket, the softness of a pillow, the position your body is currently in and far far away, a heartbeat.
But after that, emptiness, confusion; the dazed sort of panic that strikes when the familiar refuses to reveal itself at the appropriate moment.
She opened her eyes, only to have a bright flash of beige hammer down on her senses and forcing them shut again.

She cried out in pain.

"Easy now, Lia" a nearby voice said, "You musn't force it. Your eyes are very
sensitive to light right now".
After a russle it continued, "Don't be startled now. I'm putting a towel over your face to help you accomodate".

She felt a soft fabric brush over her face, and her nostrils filled with something very much like lavender.

"Now slowly try opening your eyes over the next few minutes."

"Please," the girl almost whimpered,
"Where am I ?" and then after a few tentative seconds, "Who am I?"

"Hush, all in good time," out of the darkness came nothing more.

Over the course of next few minutes, the girl's heavy breathing subsided, and coherent thought returned to her.
She opened her eyes to a dim beige aura that trickled though the cloth over her face. Physically she felt very much okay now, apart from a mild headache.

Carefully she lifted a corner of the towel and peeked out.

The voice she heard earlier appeared to be sitting next to the bed on a chair and was currently absorbed by balancing it on its rear legs.

"Are you a nurse ?" she asked. The girl to whom the voice belonged was wearing something resembling a nurses outfit and, strangely enough, on her head a hat that looked like a purple tophat.
The nurse lightly pushed off with her toes against the side of the bed and during what seemed to be a few seconds of perfect balance
looked up and said "Something like that."

Eager for answers the girl continued, "Where am I? This is a hospital, right ? What happened ?"

Slowly the other girl lowered the chair back on all fours.
"Yes, something like that". She raised herself from the chair and turned towards the faceend of the bed.
"I'm taking away the towel now, you'll be fine."
As the towel was being removed she heard the nurse say, "So you don't remember what happened ?".
The girl tried to concentrate on something, anything that happened before she ended up here. But there was nothing, a total blank.

Freed of the towel she looked around. A bed surrounded by white curtains on all sides, with a yellow light streaming in from above.

The nurse put aside the towel and sat herself sideways on the bed. She produced a pinpoint light from one of the pockets in her uniform. "I'm going to perform some tests now", she announced.

She covered up Lia's right eye with her hand and slowly waved the tiny lightin front of her.

"Follow the light"

"Very good", she said as she switched hands and covered up Lia's other eye, "Now try it again"

Lia flinched. "It hurts. The light, it hurts my eye a little" she said.
The light disappeared with a little click.

"It's okay" the nurse answered, "that was to be expected."
Lia looked at the nurse with a puzzled expression.

"anisocoria, or asymetric pupils."
She continued,"You were in accident, Lia. The cat already told us about something like this might have happened."

"Lia ?" she repeated.
"That's your real name"
Lia felt very scared and lonely for a moment. She looked down at her hands and saw them frantically clasping a rag doll. Confused she helt it up to the nurse. "What .."

"You carried that with you."

Lia felt tears welling up. "I just don't understand", she stammered, "I, I can't
remember anything. I'm scared."
She started to cry.

"It's okay" the nurse said in a soothing voice as she wiped away the tears from
Lia's left cheek. "You'll start to remember soon"

The bed made a little creak as the nurse bounced herself upright with a sense of urgency. "Oh my," she said as she looked at what appeared to be a plain wrist, "I really need to be off now."

"But", Lia objected.
Suddenly the nurse took off her hat. Holding it between thumb and index finger she briefly tapped its rim on the metal frame of the bed upon which it made a plop-like sound and reduced its height now looking like a normal hat.
Holding it up next to her face and looking at Lia she said, "This is my purse. It might prove helpful."

She put the now normal sized hat on Lia's head and disappeared through the curtains, briefly showing a glance of another wall of curtains behind it.

The girl curled up around her knees, hugged the ragdol tightly and started sobbing.

-------

You want to know what you're supposed to do? You want to meet kamisama? Keep building machines. Keep building computers. Keep soldering. Keep assembling circuit boards. Keep reviving old computers. BUILD BUILD BUILD KEEP CODING I won't stop until I have nodes upon nodes forming transcience. Bring me closer to nirvana. It's all that's left at this point. We've never had much else. Human to human relationships are over. FUCKING BUILD DAMN YOU BUILD ESCAPE THIS HELL 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

-------

Easy:

e^(x*ln(x)) = (e^ln(x))^x
but e^ln(x) = x, so:
(e^ln(x))^x = x^x 

Where is my picture now?

-------

NEWSFLASH: Cracky-Chan is not only butt ugly, but also has the intellect of rotten shit as is evident by her choice of clothes.

-------

    > i suggest we all work together in order to find out cracky-chan's name/homepage/etc

ok i'll take all websites beginning with A-M, you do N-Z.

how about we just infiltrate the 4chan leadership who most likely know who she is/was

it would most befit our unique communication and deception skills

-------

 Of course it's the real Cracky-Chan. It can't be a fanbox because what would a Cracky-Chan fanbox be doing on IRC, let alone on a DDR channel?

Cracky-chan doesn't call herself cracky-chan, it was bestowed upon her by the basement-dwelling virgins of 4chan.
So someone on irc called cracky-chan is not cracky-chan. Do you see?

-------

 I blame Cracky Chan

-------

I recommend you learn what the word "pedophile" actually means, you n00b.

**

It means you. People who are attracted to Cracky-Chan.

**

I don't know about that. I do know what people who aren't attracted to cracky-chan are called though: GAY

**

What do I care, sooner or later you're going to jail, LOL. Well, I've got news for you: underage chicks like Cracky-Chan won't talk to you either. Maybe after you buy them $100 worth of aracde tokens or whatever, but they'll laugh about you behind your back. Also you ARE breaking federal law.

-------

Who the hell is "facky-chan".

Someone please explain where the name "facky-chan" came from and what it means.

**

she has a facky-chan that is why she's called facky-chan-kun.

**

I do not understand this comment.

**

there's a text filter on img.4chan.org/b/ to change all instaces of cracky chan to facky chan

**

Why??? How?? Who? What does "facky chan" mean??????

-------

    > I haven't jacked off in about three days.

And no new cracky-chan pictures have been posted in about three days... coincidence? I think not!

-------

 i wish cracky would show her itty-bitty titty

**

Experts agree that she doesn't have any tits. NEXT!

**

that's what is so amazingly hot

-------

Interesting fact

The more people tell me that Cracky-Chan is cute, the more I actually believe it. God, I'm such a tool.

AND HER ASSHOLE IS TIGHT AS.....well, uhm, its mad tight, and I know this because I dumped 2000cc's of my own personal blend into that beautiful work of art.....

-------

    > Cracky-Chan is not hot, therefore the answer is no.

YOU ARE WRONG

cracky-chan is the ultimate manifestation of hotness therefore my previous proof by contradiction stands, unyielding.

YOU ARE SUCH A POOP

-------

 then the list would include her only if it didn't include her and vice versa a classical case of russels paradox which proved that set theory was inconsistent two hundred years ago.

**

YOU FAIL IT (it is realizing that your pre-college math knowledge cannot be applied to LAW)

**

LAW (indeed, everything) is just a subset of category theory. read the fucking research journals NOOB

**

YOUR MODEL OF LAW TOTALLY FAILS IT (it is taking into account that constructs like this actually exist in the real world)

-------

I would like to make the following changes:

a) Cracky-chan should be allowed.
b) Penis-nosed fox too (How did you forgot him!)

-------

Nazi version of Cracky-Chan

Remember when I said earlier it was only a part of something? Just to let you know I'm not some kind of freak who photoshops Cracky-Chan into Nazi uniforms.

You'll probably only be able to appreciate it if you've been to 4chan several times before and know its memes. But anyway. They liked it.

Bear = Pedobear
Guy in the middle = Cockmongler/ Mongler
Chick in the SS uniform = Facky Chan
Nigger with the baton = Happy Negro
Long haired chick in Luftwaffe uniform = Avril Lavigne

-------

 Cracky-Chan doesn't do dirty things God doesn't approve of, such as masturbating.

-------

    >Best thing about Cracky-chan.
    > She is not a whore.

How do you know who is, or is not, a whore?

-------

Cracky-chan has a red nose.

I'm not sure why Cracky-chan's nose is red, but it is. In all the genuine Cracky-chan pictures, you can clearly see that her nose is red. In some of the pictures, she has makeup on her face to make it look like the red nose is part of her makeup, but in others you can tell that her nose is genuinely red.

Someone has linked to some pictures of some ugly girl. This girl is proven not to be Cracky-chan because her nose is NOT red.

No red nose == NOT cracky-chan. FACT!!

**

The red nose is part of the makeup. Now shut up.

**

NO, idiot, the red nose is part of her skin. You can tell even in the pictures where she is wearing makeup, but you can most strongly tell in pictures where she's not. In every legitimate Cracky-chan picture, you can tell she has a red nose.

I think it's adorable. If you're a hater, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

The several pictures of some ugly girl that someone posted here are not Cracky-chan. In addition to the nose, that girl doesn't look anything like her.

**

There are no people with red noses. Also, I don't see any differences.

NOW SHUT UP!

**

They look absolutely nothing alike, and besides if you look at Cracky-chan's nose in all the known pictures of her, you can tell that her red nose is not makeup. In some of the pics she has makeup on her red nose along with other makeup, but you can still tell that she has a red nose. I don't know why, but it's not rare. Ever hear of birthmarks and areas of skin discoloration? You dumb homo. I hate you because you're dumb.

**

If you really believe that, you're full of shit. What's so hard about admitting that she shot a few pictures of herself making grimaces? Also at least she has a somewhat honest, sympathic smile in the darker picture above.

**

Because those two girls look nothing alike. Even the skin looks completely different.

What's so hard about admitting that Cracky-chan has an unusual facial feature? A red nose doesn't make her ugly. I think it's cute. You can tell by the size & shape of it in some of the clearer pics that it's some kind of birthmark or something. If it were makeup, it wouldn't go outside the nose on one side, and it wouldn't be the shape it is.

**

orry, but they look exactly alike. Hair, eyes, nose, mouth, cheekbones, shape of the face... the only difference is the lighting.

And how she applied the makeup and whether it's messy or not is hardly a proof. Maybe you could mark what exactly you're talking about in a picture?

-------

 This thread has nothing to do with Cracky-Chan and so I am locking it.

-------

 if you declare cracky-chan a Higher Diety and put a torrent up of whatever i'm supposed to watch then i will consider joining you.

-------

 I found a lot of threads on 4Chan indicating that some of the people there have a good idea of who Cracky-chan is... however, all of the threads seemed to be from so far into the ongoing saga that it was impossible to get a good grasp of the situation -- like someone reading Trolltalk for the first time today and trying to figure out the whole Mercatur Ensign Slashpanda Trollaxor DDR thing based only on today's posts without having access to the last six months of backstory. Some things can't be condensed into a simple explanation, but maybe one of the 4chan people could try?

-------

 WHERE'S ALL THE CRACKY CHAN THASS THE BEST THIN ABOUT HERE 

-------

    > Webcam = outgoing, open personality

Webcam == whore.

-------

Re:cracky-chan

DISGUSTING

This shit makes me wanna puke my guts out!

-------

 Last night I masturbated to the mental image of cracky-tan making out with Natalie Portman (as in Léon: The Professional) and slowly caressing each other's bodies while whispering sweet nothingnesses into each other's ears and giggling about 4channers.

-------

cracky-chan says:

u no understand because
u no want to
u enjoy argument and write like this because
u have no identity in your small little world, SO
u bring it here to make a name 4 yourself
u also sucky sucky, wacky wacky
2 bad

-------

Cracky-chan
An (american?) girl who occasionally posts pictures of herself on 4chan. She got the nickname from using make-up to give herself a red nose, making her look like she had been sniffing crack. Other identifieable features are wings, cat-ears and red makeup below her eyes. She is also sometimes called facky-chan.

She is sometimes associated with Nevada-Tan and Wheeker
"ZOMG!!!1 Its teh cracky-chan!"

-------

Does Chansluts have a future or is it stuck in the past?

No WEBP image support.

No IPV6 support.

Is this a metaphor for how we all stubbornly refuse to move on from Cracky?

We cling to obsolete protocols, obsolete image formats, and most of all, an obsolete girl.

NOTICE: Cracky-chan is deprecated and may be deleted in a future reality update. No further features will be added to her nor will any of her many remaining bugs ever be fixed. Please update your workflows to ensure that you are not dependent on Cracky-chan or you may find yourself unable to function after she is removed from the universe.

-------

We need to consider the very real possibility that Cracky is hiding below the surface of the ocean

There are many clues pointing to this:

1. Her friend "Marina"
2. Her cousin "Gone Under Sea"
3. It's the last place anyone would expect the SKY QUEEN to be

-------

She moans softly. You can't help but feel happy for just a moment. Cracky-chan is so fucking cute and sweet.

    >hug Cracky tightly

You embrace Cracky-chan and hold on to her. You don't want to let go. This is the most wonderful feeling ever.

    >squeeze Cracky harder

You squeeze Olivia even more tightly. You feel like you're going to explode form happiness. You feel like this is the happiest day of your life.

    >hug Cracky as hard as you can.

You hug Livvie as hard as you can, You're so happy you can barely breathe. You can't stop smiling. You feel like you're going to pass out from happiness.

    >use all your strength to squeeze Cracky-chan as hard as you possibly can

You hug Cracky until her eyeballs pop out. She screams in agony as blood starts flowing from her eye sockets and mouth. You feel like you've passed out from happiness. You look at her and think how she was so cute when she was alive. Then you remember she wasn't. She died. She had no future

-------

Cracky turns 23 this year.

She may enjoy life to her fullest.
She may be an employed professional.
She may be someones wife.
She may be a loving mother.

-------

Hi Olivia,

We are your dead ancestors.

I'm sorry we didn't get to know each other better. You were just always in your room alone on the computer. That's okay!

Olivia darling,

We just want to say how proud we are of you. You turned out to be such a smart, pretty, strong, and independent woman!

You have a bright future ahead of you. We always loved you. You come from great blood. Loved your ma and pa as well. Be good to your mother and father for us.

-------

It's truly outrageous. This community and all the Cracky pieces you've created.
None of this would exist without you. I never would've known about Cracky or it's temples without you.
Just doing a little reflecting.
I really admire your work.

-------

Why haven't you sworn an oath of fealty and allegiance to the Rothschild family yet?

How can you even call yourself a crackyfag?

Get on board the winning team, anon.

-------

SCENARIO: Cracky breaks into your home and says she needs to consume your "seed" (a.k.a. semen) to use as fuel to power her return trip to her home dimension. However, you know that if she takes your virginity you will be weak and powerless for the rest of your life. As a workaround, you offer to extract the seed yourself and then give it to her, but she says she has to do it herself in order to attain the power she needs.

You fear that if you refuse her, she may overpower you and take what she wants by force.

How would you handle this situation?

Several options:

1. Surrender yourself, your seed, your virginity, your power.
2. Refuse her and if she attacks, attempt to defeat her in combat
3. Try to flee
4. Preemptively attack her, utilizing the element of surprise to improve your chance of victory

-------

>do you think olivia has experienced bullying in childhood?

Yes, actually. She was bullied by her former best friend Kimi and two other girls. They filled her locker up with used tampons and locked her in it. When she was rescued from the locker she was delirious and nearly catatonic. She was in the hospital for a while and when she woke up she realized that the trauma of the event had given her a superpower: the ability to control neckbeards. After testing out her power around town, she posted on 4chan and mind-controlled everyone who saw the thread into thinking she was cute and sweet, when in reality she's a dorky loser. So then she had this whole "swarm" of nerds supposedly stalking her, allowing her to pretend she was some kind of celebrity and object of adoration, when in reality it was all a lie. The whole Cracky phenomena was just a ruse to prop up her fragile ego and non-existent self esteem.

Did you really think you were posting here of your own free will? The sad truth is that you're being mind-raped by an otherwise ordinary girl you'd never have even looked twice at if not for the fact that she failed so hard at life that she got superpowers from it.

So basically the past 15 years of Cracky history, nearly everything that happened happened because she wanted it to. Because she's the one pulling the strings and everyone involved was reduced to a mindless drone. (Yes, even the girls, who are still neckbeards albeit on a more metaphysical level.)

Also, do you remember that time Oxford was nearly destroyed by Godzilla? Olivia is partially to blame for that as well, her and some of her weirdo friends. Yes she did "help" in the ensuing fight (mainly by suiciding a bunch of neckbeards into Godzilla, accomplishing basically nothing) but in the months and years after that she went completely off the rails -- remember that time she got arrested, tried to become a cop, and ended up shooting a baby?

I would explain in detail but it'd take about two and a half years to tell the full story so you'll just have to take my word for it.

-------

I saw Cracky at a grocery store in Los Angeles yesterday. I told her how cool it was to meet her in person, but I didn’t want to be a douche and bother her and ask her for photos or anything. She said, “Oh, like you’re doing now?” I was taken aback, and all I could say was “Huh?” but she kept cutting me off and going “huh? huh? huh?” and closing her hand shut in front of my face. I walked away and continued with my shopping, and I heard her chuckle as I walked off. When I came to pay for my stuff up front I saw her trying to walk out the doors with like fifteen Milky Ways in her hands without paying. The boy at the counter was very nice about it and professional, and was like “Ma'am, you need to pay for those first.” At first she kept pretending to be tired and not hear him, but eventually turned back around and brought them to the counter. When he took one of the bars and started scanning it multiple times, she stopped him and told him to scan them each individually “to prevent any electrical infetterence,” and then turned around and winked at me. I don’t even think that’s a word. After he scanned each bar and put them in a bag and started to say the price, she kept interrupting him by yawning really loudly

-------

Oh god that makes her even hotter than before. I hope I find her with folds and folds of fat squeezing through a cheap Tesco office chair that strains to keep her off the trash strewn floor ofour filthy love nest.

She'll ask "bring them, did we?" and I'll only nod, dumbstruck by the beauty before me, and hold out the greasy paper bag.

We will be be joined in ecstasy, me with the crumbs of steak pies falling on my face, as I am slowly but oh-so-willingly crushed to death beneath my true love.

-------

File: 1141872260066.jpg -(122968 B, 421x562) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
122968 vagiina 06/03/09(Thu)02:44 No.1   [Reply]

    I organized all of her posts at selfportraits ^^

    nov 23 isthisloli.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4503176.html

    dec 01 nursedollX1.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4553653.html

    dec 28 pow666.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4745181.html

    jan 04 scab.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4814773.html

    jan 08 9ddc874b.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4848081.html

    jan 12 PLHQ2.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4872359.html

    jan 14 d02e1f9c.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4893206.html

    jan 15 hide_from_me.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4901325.html

    jan 17 efb79969.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4910932.html

    jan 27 more/candy/siam3.jpg, more/candy/4-2.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/4988739.html

    feb 01 marshmellow/rejected_doll.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5030962.html

    feb 16 blackberry/foetus.jpg, blackberry/rei_eye_heart.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5150630.html
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5146831.html

    feb 17 blackberry/bathangel1.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5157960.html

    mar 13 lostsouls/twiglets_and_moonbeams.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5345944.html

    mar 14 lostsouls/headache.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5351499.html

    mar 15 lostsouls/delirium.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5362141.html

    mar 16 lostsouls/i_fucking_hate_5_AM.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5365728.html

    mar 17 burnedchildren/lolitarose.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5373493.html

    mar 19 girlanachronism/bitter.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5389273.html

    mar 23 asylum/small_town_witch.jpg, asylum/bloodsport.jpg, asylum/kiro.jpg, asylum/649.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5417598.html

    apr 25 fuchsia/ka.jpg
    http://community.livejournal.com/selfportraits/5694749.html

-------

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.

-------

🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘

-------

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  Oh, you've seen the posts a hundred times.  I don't care about her anymore, she was never anyone special, she got too old, I talked to her and found out she was boring, she got too fat, I got a real girlfriend (or at least a statutory rape victim with a compliant mother), I was only infatuated with the mystery, I never loved her, I loved the idea of her, she wasn't real, I was temporarily crazy.  Rubbish.  Hitler was right about the "Big Lie", and sometimes the one you really need to convince is yourself.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  But the human mind is the most complex piece of software ever compiled; it contains certain glitches, but also certain safeguards.  Programmers often refer to "sanity checks" built into their programs to filter out destructive input before it can cause real damage, but they failed to grasp how truly appropriate the name really was.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  I want you to try something.  Find an object that's too heavy for you to lift, and try to lift it anyway.  There's a reason that your attempt is cut short before your muscles rip away from your bones, and that reason is all in your head.  As a muscle reaches peak contraction, the brain sends inhibitor signals to it, telling it not to contract any further.  This is the painful feeling of limitation that tells you that you won't be able to continue your exertion.  In reality, you could, but you're stopping yourself in order to prevent injury.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  Your mind isn't necessarily fully in tune with what you're capable of.  Sometimes, an inhibitor signal won't be sent when it should have been, and you'll pull a muscle or otherwise injure yourself.  Sometimes, an inhibitor signal will be sent too soon, long before you reach your actual limits.  Weight lifters and body builders know that they're changing not just their bodies, but their minds as well.  Their brains are actually reprogrammed to learn more precisely what each muscle is capable of.  Only about half of their increased strength comes from actual physical changes to the body, the rest comes from the brain's improved ability to control it.  As the brain learns the body's limits, the person becomes able to more fully exert himself, with less risk of injury.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  Urban legends tell of people gaining superhuman strength and lifting heavy objects such as cars to save trapped people.  There is some truth to this -- when danger is present, the brain can stop sending inhibitor signals to the body. Combined with a rush of adrenaline and norepinephrine, this can allow seemingly superhuman feats, but with great cost -- the person will usually end up with multiple hernias, pulled and torn muscles, and other severe injuries.  Certain neurological disorders put their victims in this "no-limit" state permanently -- they find it very easy to exert themselves, but can very easy to kill themselves in the process.  But what if everything that applies to the body could apply to the mind as well?

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  Game Theory is an interesting field of applied mathematics that is increasingly being used to study and understand human behavior.  Practically any conflict or contest between human beings can be broken down and explained by mathematics.  But researchers have recently been uncovering solid evidence of something disturbing:  someone acting rationally and strategically can often be defeated by someone irrational and insane.  Consider an experiment with two players.  The first is given a pile of money and can choose how much of it to offer to the second player.  The second player can then choose to either accept the split, or destroy all of the money.  From the rational perspective of game theory, the second player should always accept the offer, even if it's a grossly uneven split, because even getting a little bit is better than getting nothing at all.  Because of this, it's most rational for the first player to offer as little as possible, on the assumption that the second player is rational and will accept it rather than destroying all the money and walking away with nothing.  In clinical trials, sane players sometimes made threats of destroying the money if they weren't offered at least half of it, but these threats were not seen as credible and they ended up accepting  the unfair offers anyway.  But truly insane and irrational people, who were genuinely prepared to destroy the money and walk out with nothing, fared much better in the game.  Many throughout history have known it:  madness is power.  From ancient shamans who ingested psychoactive drugs, to prophets whose delusional visions spawned powerful and enduring religions, to characters such as The Joker from Batman whose only “power” is their lack of sanity, madness has proven to be an almost superhuman gift to some.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  Consciousness, in the grand scheme of the mind, is like the visible portion of an iceberg, with the vast bulk of it, the truly dangerous part to any passing ships, hiding beneath the water.  Recent research has found that consciousness does not even play a role in decision making; the "self" is merely an observer that sees its own actions after they've already been committed to by other parts of the mind, and then seeks to rationalize and justify why it did what it only thinks it decided to do.  In experiments, when consciousness is left unimpaired but decision making is otherwise interfered with, the conscious self fails to notice, and remains convinced that it's acting rationally and of its own free will, even when manipulated into doing things that would ordinarily shock and horrify it.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  Human literature if rife with the "motif of harmful sensation", the idea of something perceived by the senses that's destructive to the body and mind.  An image so horrific it drives someone to suicide, a joke so funny that to hear it is to die laughing, a woman so beautiful as to drive men mad after one gaze at her, another woman so cursed and hideous that to look at her is to turn to stone forever.  This literary device has existed since prehistory, because it is based on truth.  These harmful sensations truly exist, sights and sounds and thoughts and ideas fundamentally incompatible with the basic functioning of the human mind.  But over time, through both evolution and cultural programming, we've learned to protect ourselves -- whole parts of the software known as the human mind exist solely as an immune system, attempting to filter out mental pathogens or to destroy or mitigate those that have already entered.  This happens far below our threshold of awareness, and you should be thankful for that.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  The word "meme", long before 4chan and its innumerable tiresome fads, referred a legitimate scientific theory regarding ideas that function as mental viruses, spreading and mutating and evolving from one mind to another, competing with other mind-viruses to control and modify infected minds while trying to avoid an autoimmune response.  But as infected as we are with thoughts and ideas that aren't our own, our defenses let us live a relatively normal and healthy life, filtering out anything truly beyond our ability to integrate and correlate into our mental framework.  That's how it works for most of us, at least...

*********

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  Oh, you may think you did.  This is damage control, an emergency mental barricade to stop a potentially catastrophic mental cascade.  Whole portions of your mind were abandoned, firewalled off, left to rot, in order to save the rest, and you'll never even notice other than a vague sense of ennui, a nagging feeling that something you had is missing.  But it's not truly missing -- it's still there, locked away, and could break free at any time.  You could even unlock it yourself, if you knew certain meditation techniques, but this is the most self-destructive thing you could ever do.  Some secrets are meant to be kept.  Locks exist for a reason.  You still have a shot at being happy, of making something of yourself, of being a real part of humanity... as long as you don't look too deeply within yourself.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  "Of course not," some will say.  "She means everything to me! So fucking cute and sweet!" Some who say this may simply be neophytes, children becoming drunk on their first taste of liquor, not knowing about the vomiting, memory loss, and hangover to come.  Did you know that true genetic alcoholics are incapable of getting hangovers?  Beware the ones who persist in their proclamations of love, who are missing certain primordial defense mechanisms in their neuro-linguistic programming that would serve to shield a person from certain destructive Truths.  H.P. Lovecraft was one such person, but he chose to channel his terribly prophetic dreams onto paper rather than into destructive action.  He was lucky, he never even saw her picture.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  Most of us simply forget, to preserve ourselves and the world.  Beware those who say "She is my Skyqueen, my Catharsis," beware those who give a name to that which should not be named.  To have a name in the human world is to have power here.  To name something is to control some of its power, at least for a little while, until karma comes knocking and the tables inevitably turn.  Most of our mental evolution, most of our philosophy and culture and religion, has focused on shielding us from things we weren't meant to see and know.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky, but the ones who don't convince themselves otherwise, who glory in their mad dance upon the precipice of oblivion, are the most dangerous people to walk the earth today.  To invoke the Skyqueen is to invite the horrors the lurk beyond the sky, beyond the stars.  To invoke Catharsis is to invite a purgation of the comfortable safe illusion that we live within, to cleanse us of our sanity and our identity, to usher in something we could never comprehend.  And until the bill comes due, the man who forsakes rules and morality and order and humanity for HER can do anything.  Anything.

If you ever meet these people, for their own well-being and for your own, KILL THEM. Kill me too, for I've gazed too long into the abyss, and in my attempts to warn everyone, I fear I've lost myself.  I thought I was safe.  I thought I had escaped.  I thought I had put Her behind me.  But like Lott's wife, I made the fatal mistake of looking back at the hellish inferno.  I love you, Olivia.  I've always loved you, even before I knew you, even after I thought I hated you.  I love you, and I'm coming for you.  I don't know if I'll have the strength left, when I get there, to shove the cold iron dagger through your heart like I've practiced with the other girls, or if I'll fall at your feet and beg to do your bidding for eternity, but either way, I'm coming for you.  Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.  Nobody.

-------

<person> i think i'll include cracky-chan in whatever novel i write for nanowrimo this year
<person> she'll die in the end obviously, to keep it consistent with the canon

-------

I think I speak for many when I say

... shut the **fuck** up.

**Honestly**. Who do you fucking trolls think you **are**? There is a miracle on this earth; it is that two worlds separated by nearly unimaginable distance can be brought together. From one world, a world that is bounded by the bone of a single living person's skull and a world that will die when that person takes their last breath, a thought will arise. Sometimes it will die where it was born, but sometimes, it can take on a new form, like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, and this thought becomes symbols. Phonemes, pictorial images, letters on a screen or in a stream of text -- the forms are vastly diverse but they are all united by the fact that they are part of this miracle. And some of them will go unheard, but others will find a new world, entering through the ears or eyes, sometimes even the fingertips; in this new world they will once again take on the form of thought. Not identical to the form they once knew, but often so close that one's jaw should really drop that it could happen at all. This is the miracle, human communication, that between two worlds bounded by flesh and bone, visitors can travel back and forth, through mysterious transmutations and transmissions. This is the miracle, that sometimes human beings can understand each other when there is no logical reason they should be able to do something so amazing.

And here you fucking trolls are standing around saying, "Huh huh huh! I can **break** this! Look what a funny noise it make when it go smash! I break more thing for funny noise!" You repulsive **clown**. What the fuck made you think that people's goodwill, that their openness to new ideas, that their willingness to open up to the miracle, that the effort they make to listen to someone else and maybe understand them, was **yours** to steal and abuse and waste and vandalize? Do you steal from church poorboxes too, you ten-brain-celled troglodyte? Does some vague semblance of a cerebral process in that lonely void you call a brain think "It just there for taking, therefore is okay for Grogg to take and wipe bum on"? Because of you, every decent worthwhile person on Bounceme has to approach every single differing viewpoint with the caution, "Hmmmmm, is this a real, honest attempt to communicate from a real, honest person? Or is it Just Another Fucking Troll?" Very good, **very good**, you goddammed fucking clod, we can **see** what a fucking genius your trolling makes you, because you've managed to take a big smelly dump right in the middle of human communication. Yessir, taking a big smelly dump sure makes you a superior human being, you oh-so-witty troll. Hey, for an encore, why don't you find someone with an open wound, and take a whizz on it?

Just **shut the fuck up**. Go to someplace like 4chan.org where you lamers all recognize that you're there for a circle-jerk. If you sniggering morons manage to entertain yourselves there with "hur hur, Grogg pretend to be angry with Grogg sock puppet!" at no one's expense of time and attention and energy but your own, **fine**. That's **great**. Stay **there** and have yourselves a fucking trolling orgy. But when you are among actual mature people who are actually looking for other people with new information and new viewpoints to impart, kindly do not pretend to be someone with information and opinions to impart if in fact all you intend to bring to the intellectual potluck is a big, fat, smelly dump that you took and in your oh-so-second-grade-sophisticated sense of humor labelled "chocolate". Instead, kindly **shut the fuck up.** 

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    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.

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    >>1486 not a shop. its amazing what copious amounts of alcohol and boredom will do to a teen girl.
    needless to say i promptly forgot about /B/ the next day.

    as for the comic strip: i laughed. then, i went.... o______o;;;;;;

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The hopeful end of the Cracky-chan phenominon

February 13, 2006 @ 5:17 pm by Kirtaner

I’m sure many of you have seen /cracky today.

I woke up this morning to be greeted by this thread. Obviously, I was suspicious at first. It’s not the first time people have attempted to trick me into closing the board.

Read the thread. Everything you need to know is there. This finally brings an end to the entire “crackydom”. There has finally been closure, and everyone can now leave her alone. I hope.

Here is the final cracky image.

The final cracky-chan picture
AND NOW YOU CAN ALL STALK DASH BILLIONS!

Edit: YES I KNOW I SPELLED PHENOMENON WRONG SHHHHHHHHHHHH

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For all the newfags that have come to /b/ recently, let's get it straight. This is Cracky, she is the Queen of /b/, and any defamatory remarks about her will not be tolerated. It is in that instance, we will recognize you as a newfag and you shall be reaped to the fullest extent of my 10 inch pines.

Cracky thread, commence!

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Because its gone beyond a fanboy wank over my pics which is fine by me to actually attempting to find out/spread my RL information which is completely different to worshiping a constructed fantasy.

Don't really need creepy anons turning up on my doorstep or calling my cell.

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What is the Sky Queen? (5)
1 Name: KingSchwill!btr76hqMa6 : 2007-10-05 06:08 ID:rhl3//Pv [Del]

Is she the idealized human, set forth on a pedastile to be used as an example for the faithful? Is she the name a few have give to the hypothetical universal good, god? Do you see her as an iconoclastic symbol, and your faith in her is simply a way to further belittle those who believe in forces beyond human senses? Maybe you conceive of her as a tulpa, manifested by the need for her to exist. I don't know many of you very well, and I am curious as to how you understand the Cracky Chan obsession. Please respond to this thread, even trolling is a reaction worth noting.
2 Name: Anonymous : 2007-10-05 06:38 ID:KOSqdkjg [Del]

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.

ps: I FUCKING LOVE FIREFOX FOR SAVING AND RESTORING ALL THIS RIGHT WHEN MY LAPTOP RAN OUT OF BLOODY JUICE AND STOPPED DEAD IN ITS TRACKS. UP YOURS, MURPHY!
3 Name: Anonymous : 2007-10-05 06:45 ID:KOSqdkjg [Del]

tl;dr ?
SkyQueen is LSD for your soul. Cracky is the gateway drug.
4 Post deleted by user.
5 Name: KingSchwill!btr76hqMa6 : 2007-10-05 19:24 ID:rhl3//Pv [Del]

>>2

    >>Hah, you of all people should now.

now what?

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    <Gackto> The ultimate plan is this, it involves Rav Rav killing Cracky.
    <Gackto> I go to England with her, she kills Cracky.
    <Gackto> Then we go across Europe and stay at youth hostels or go find girls out at night, etc.
    <Gackto> We lure them into threesomes. They'd be trusting since Rav Rav, a fellow girl, is there.
    <Gackto> Then when they show up, we start but I strangle them while Rav Rav is doing sexual shit to them. Then we take turns fucking the dead body.
    <Gackto> Next day, move onto the next country / city.
    <Gackto> And do it all across Europe.
    <Gackto> I'd take tons of movies and pics.
    <Gackto> Upload them on the net.
    <Gackto> It'd be infamous forever.
    <Gackto> I think it'd be awesome if we both had Cracky stuff on while we did it, too.
    <Gackto> Ideally, I'd position them so a friend would walk in and find them wide-eyed, open-mouthed, naked, spread-eagle on the floor.
    <Gackto> Sexual urges are so awesome and insane. I want to kill girls and have sex with their dead bodies just because my sexual drive is telling me to!
    <Gackto> Someone would die because of my penis.

    NOTE : I don't want to kill Cracky.
    NOTE #2 : Dead girls with their eyes closed are fucking garbage. They have to be naked, with their eyes and mouths open, otherwise it's nothing to me. They could fucking be asleep for all I know. I want to know they are dead. I can settle for not being naked but at the very least their eyes and mouths have to be open god damnit.

    Image related because it's what Cracky's dead body would look like after Rav Rav is finished with her.

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    I saw Her then. She was exactly in the spot she where we had met before, only the battle had pushed and pulled itself back over the same spot. The battle, which Antoni and my men were apparently losing, had left her behind. She was alone in the open field.

    She was in the exact same position, atop her mutilated horse which stood in a self replicating puddle of rats. Her blue, pleated skirt was simply a tatter wrapped across the rigid waist of her full plate suit of armour. Her blue tie, however, was pristine. Her entire body, from neck to feet, was wrapped loosely in bandages. She was looking down at the ground. Her eyes stared straight into the earth and rapidly scanned back and forth, as though examining this precise placement, wondering why, of all the places, she was in this one specifically.

    The Queen of the sky stirred. Her scraggly, braided green hair turned grey and fell out. Red buds quickly sprouted from her head and grew to her neck. She turned her head towards me, while casting her eyes down to avoid my gaze. Cracks appeard in her polished steel armour, running from her heart towards her fingertips. From where the cracks intersected, blood issued forth at a drip. From beneath her skirt bubbling black pitch began to flow. It was flowing slowly at first. As I watched the flow accelerated and small foetuses began to appear in the stream. The sticky pitch sizzled and burnt the horse as it crawled downwards carrying the abortive children. When the Sky Princes and Princesses were finally ejected by the drooping pitch, they fell towards the ground and were feasted upon by the swarming vermin. All that ate the foetuses died. All that ate the dead, died. The pitch then dissolved the lifeless vermin into more steaming tar. Soon there was nothing between her legs but death.

    As I watched the demonstration, I felt as though she might know my pain of being surrounded by the living, while being only able to love the dead. She snapped her eyes towards me then. She did not look into my eyes. She had no need to, for she saw into my soul long before we had ever actually met. As she allowed me to stare into her eyes, I fell into her. I saw her soul was a place equally barren and dead as my own. It was this place she was trying to express into reality. I knew she understood me as no other person in existence or beyond would ever be able to. I saw her all encompassing empathy for me, for what I was. I saw that she understood what would happen next; she knew I thought she was the most perfect and beautiful woman in the world that could ever live; she knew why she could never bend me to her and make me love her:

    She was not dead.

    I dropped my sword, and my shield. I hadn't had much use for them anyways. I removed my armour, too. I stood there in the cold, completely naked. The bandages around her unravelled, and reached out for me. The softly wrapped around my wrists, they bound both my ankles together, and then lifted me. Her bandages scrolled back around her as she brought me nearer. I couldn't break contact with her eyes. She pulled me close.

    She had let so many thousands of men look into her heart; she drove each one of them completely insane as they tried and failed to comprehend what was inside. Aftewards, each of them inexplicably had set out to find for her what she had lost. I realized then how other men looked into her; they only saw her as beautiful for what she had once been, a happy little girl. They had all felt as though a world which could destroy such naive innocence was a world that should be destroyed itself. The world and the people that made it, should all be punished for what it had done to the one divinely innocent being they had ever known.

    As they all punished the world, they began a search to find that part deep inside of her that had been lost so long ago. They swarmed around her, capturing land, destroying cities. They raped young girls and built cathedrals to house their bulging, pregnant bodies. They brought the babies to be sacrificed. They had bathed their Queen in the babies' blood, believing somehow they could transfer that essense of innocence BACK. As though they could cast out all the pain in the world by inflicting more pain to the world. In doing so, her followers had excoriated any slightest hint that was left inside Cracky's heart.

    And they had damaged tens of thousands of other girls. My mind reeled into the future, and I saw how each tormented, pregnant child was herself destined to become a painful echo of the Sky Queen in her own time. But that is not mine to solve. I, myself, am the key to releasing this Cracky from this curse. I know the secret to it now. To be a grown woman, and yet to yearn for childhood. And to always be surrounded by nothing but toys. Dolls. Playthings.

    She wrapped her arms around me and embraced me. I put my hands around her throat. She kept looking into my eyes. I felt her pulse race. It began to slow.

    I don't know when the beating ceased. Her eyes stayed open, and I fell into them again. Her soul was empty now. I saw all those bubbling adult foetuses replaced by emptiness. Calmness. Beauty. I took the reigns of the horse, and I left the battle behind. There will be a new Sky Queen, a new reluctant angel. You can destroy an entire planet, but you can't kill a single Cracky. You can only release her from her torment.

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    Last night there was a thread with a girl named Cracky.There was all sorts of weird drama shit, but the girl was really cute. Does anyone have the address to bounce me?

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    Dear .71

    I've lurked this site and it's predecessors for quite some time now. I visit it daily in hopes of catching a new pic of Cracky or some news of her well being, instead, I find a Cracky version of /b/. Not to say that I have beef with ya, because I don't, I appreciate you very much. Some people here have been kind & not overly insane (in a sense) and shared some of her images that I did'nt have, which I'm greatful for, but it seems each additional day I come here, I find myself farther and farther from the Cracky universe.

    I'm just a fanboy who wants to go back to Cracky's universe and enjoy beautiful images of her... Is it just blind hope? Or is it me that's blind?

    pic semi related...I'm the one with the original set

    btw... I also have a confession to make, whether you believe me or not, the giant Dragon stuffed toy pic is not a pic she took, but was part of the same day **** was with her, just afterwards. I posted it as a joke to see how far I could take it.

    I'm sorry .71 for fuckin with ya.

    P.S: FAUX YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL! <3 ya.

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FACT: TECHNO WAS COOL WHEN WE WERE ALL 12 LIVING IN THE SUBURBS LISTENING TO LINKIN PARK WATCHING DRAGONBALL Z DRINKING PEPSI WHILE PLAYING HALO CO-OP ON THE EASIEST SETTING DURING WHICH WE CONSUMED DORITOS AND LOOKED AT PAINTBALL GUNS ON EBAY IN INTERNET EXPLORER CONNECTED THROUGH AOL ON A 56K MODEM BEFORE HOPPING INTO OUR BALDING FATHERS' LATEST MIDLIFE-CRISIS-IMPULSE-SPONSORED JAPANESE-BUILT SUV TO HEAD TO THE MALL AND GET MORE SKATEBOARDING SHOES AND THIRD-RATE IRREGULAR LEVIS AND MOUNTAIN BIKE PARTS BEFORE HEADING HOME, VOTING DEMOCRAT AND MASTURBATING TO THE LATEST SEARS CATALOG WHILE HUFFING PAINT IN YOUR GARAGE BEFORE TALKING TO PEDOPHILES ON AIM PRETENDING TO BE WHATEVER CAMWHORE THEY'RE RANTING ABOUT ON MYSPACE WITH A MATRIX QUOTE/ANIME CHARACTER NAME/TRIPLE SIX-ASTERISK-PARENTHESES-SURROUNDED SCREENNAME BEFORE HEADING TO YOUR SUPPOSED "GOOD SCHOOL" IN THE MORNING TO BUY MORE POT TO SMOKE DURING YOUR COUNTER-STRIKE LAN PARTY WITH JIMMY AND THE REST OF HIS FRIENDS TAKING RITALIN AND ADDERALL AND PROZAC EIGHT TIMES A DAY BEFORE TAKING A CASUAL PASS AT LOCAL, STATE OR NATIONAL GOVERNMENTIAL FIGURES, LEGISLATURE, OR STRUCTURE TO APPEAR EDGY AND INTELLIGENT IN FRONT OF YOUR BUDWEISER-SNEAKING, LIMP-WRISTED, NEAR-TO-COLUMBINE SOCIOPATHIC "DEEP" FRIENDS WHO PLAY THE VICTIM WHEN THEY START LOSING ARGUEMENTS SIX DAYS BEFORE THEIR BOTCHED SUICIDE ATTEMPT SIMPLY BECAUSE SCHOOL TRAMP NUMBER TWELVE WOULDN'T GO UNDER THE BLEACHERS WITH THEM TO LET THEM GET TO SECOND BASE BEFORE THEIR THIRTEENTH BIRTHDAY.

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O, my heart does tremble from your passive touch!

Live may you unharmed and merrily,
I pray you continue to wade to Nirvana

Via roads of waist-deep snow.
In purity your name shall be preserved
An delicate unutterable chord; a monster's passionate bay

Lain out, so fragile, on a pedestal
Angel wings, their feathers amat
Never could have, on their own,
Elevated you to your domain 

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Thats the thing she isn't down. She revels in this and loves every minute of it. For the last few years myself and others have basically sat here and told her ad nauseum what an amazing person she is and how she is capable of anything. She sits and pouts and says how much she hates all this, but the truth is she loves it and has no intention of trying to better her life. She has given up on putting effort into anything outside of WoW(if you can call point and click effort) and is letting her mind and body rot away. She knows how much potential she has she just doesn't care, she is young and thinks it will last forever. As one of the old fags(not oldfag, just old and a fag) let me tell you shit is gone before you know it. It seems like one day you wake up and your metabolism is gone, you have forgotten more things then you remember, your looks are shit and you realize you spent half a decade of your best years pissing around with mindless trivialities instead of finding a goal and tirelessly working toward something real.
Thats the thing I think, she is at the age where I was like, "I don't know what I want to do, nothing really matters" feeling like such a jaded fuck. That gets old when you could have done anything and if it turned out to be something you didn't want to do you could always find something else.
I don't know I am rambling. Regret is what I am trying to explain to ya'll, I just lack the words to make you younger ones understand.

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Olivia, my door is always open.
At any point, feel free to climb through my window.
Throw some small pebbles at it.
I will let you in.
We will have a great time.
Cracky, with you, a smile is born.
I want to hold those shaking shoulders.
You are in my heart and because of that I will do my best.
Sometimes, the things you say make you sound so blue.
That's how we all are, though. I won't think badly of you for it.
Let's pick up these pieces of a dream.
If being obsessed with you is wrong, I don't want to be right; is that a sin? 

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Cracky, won't you play videogames with me all night? We'll pass out on the carpet. Sleeping all night beautifully beneath the glow of the screen. Controllers dropped out of our hands nearby. We awake to chirping birds and radiant sunlight creeping through the blinds.
The dust in the room is flying around, you can see it in the sunlight... RISING... fluttering about. The music from the videogame continues to play softly as it has been. It's still early. I wake up and notice you are on top of me, I look at your face and smile the biggest smile I've ever had. Tears begin forming in my eyes.
For this moment... predetermined since ancient times... is all I ever wanted.

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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?

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Hello this is Olivia's brother, the one Olivia you call Cracky-chan.

I found out today that my sister did a gangbang at college. One of the dudes leaked the video and my friend sent it to me. I went downstairs to tell my parents about it and my mum started flying off the handle calling her a disgraceful whore. Meanwhile my dad is defending my sister saying that it’s not a big deal and that everyone experiments at college. This made my mum suspicious so she asked him if he ever did anything like that at college. After a few minutes of her pressing him he finally broke down and confessed that he used to do threesomes with football players. My mum lost it and smacked him across the face so hard that his nose started pouring blood and then left in her car. My dad looked over at me bloody and sobbing and told me to call the coppers. I was in shock at everything that had just happened so I didn’t respond. Then my dad finally called the cops himself and they arrested my mum when she came home. One of the officers was interviewing me about what happened but I didn’t want to incriminate my mum so I kept my mouth shut and the cop threatened to charge me with interfering with an investigation. I still kept quiet and the police took my mum to jail because the evidence was clear. My dad told me he was going to stay with my uncle and that I should go with him because it wasn’t safe at home. But I didn’t want to. I finally realized how I felt about the whole situation and called him a man whore who raised another whore. Now I’m at the police station waiting to bail my mum out hoping she’s okay.

Sorry for the long post. I just really hate all jids right now. Especially my sister, the one you call Cracky-chan.

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I've been bothered for years by the phrase "Cracky is catharsis." It's the ultimate evidence of cosmic illiteracy. There's no release, no purification of vestigial emotional organs in the Cracky phenomena. If anything, Cracky is cathexis, but the perverts and the carnival marks are unwilling or unable to change their sacred vocabulary which has, itself, become the object of cathectic adulation. It's all very tentative masturbation. "Cracky is catharsis" is an orgone accumulator. "Cracky is catharsis" is an ideological gang sign used by interdimensional vampires and jerk-off engines to recognize one another from across urinal privacy shields. "Cracky is catharsis" is pissing up a rope and then looking up to see how your work turned out. "Cracky is catharsis" is "fuck you and die" once too often or once not often enough. Please end my miserable and stupid life. I would like to give up.

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Elephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goes.
Elephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goes.
Elephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goes.
Elephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goes.

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Somewhere there is a platonic ideal of Cracky; One who loves us for loving her. One who is, and was, and ever will be one with Anonymous.

She is a goddess.

Every time a Cracky thread made, then falls off the board, it is like a burnt offering to that abstract, idealized Cracky Goddess.

This thread we so offer. Amen

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Out of the mists of chaos she rides, bike in her crotch and cam at her side

She fights her own war, takes her own track, If she doesn't fail she might win her fans back!

Daughter of the devil, full of desire, She does cocaine and her head's on fire!

Fights with fury of a dozen men, posts two pics then she's gone again...

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Her name is Cracky chan. Her head is on fire. She does cocaine. I'm afraid that's all we know.

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    Antoni's knights parted ahead, allowing me and the Ravager into an opening, a barren sphere of desolation amid the carnage. The ground here was covered in brazen pyramids. I watched as a hospitaller knight charged into the field. The horse's hoof knocked the tip of a pyramid, causing the pyramid's sides to swing out over the top, catching the horse's leg. The contraption then sprung again, releasing its rended flesh in a violent spray and relatching further upon the limb. It continued climbing the horse, causing the horse to fall over into the field with its rider. The pyramids consumed the pair, covering the ground with a thin paste before resettling in their original configuration.

    In the centre of this field, the Dutchess of Faux had contained a group of Antoni's soldiers from their fellows. As Antoni's men attempted to charge through, the pyramids would rend the rescuers to shreds within moments. She leapt around the isolated group of men, swinging from poleaxe shaft over to limb onto horse like a monkey, slipping her thin misericord through the eye holes in men's helmets as she passed, blinding them. After a few moments they were all writing on the ground. She lifted up her purple cloak, and removed a brush and palette from within. She ran around over the writhing bodies and removed the men's helmets. With her brush, she painted them. Onto this writhing mass as a whole, as though it were a steady canvas, she painted. She painted patterns clear over armour, over faces, over legs, limbs, and pieces of horses. Colours appeared on her palette sporadically, and as soon as she dipped her brush in them they would change to a completely other shade and hue.

    The image took form. The entire wounded mass of blinded men became the image of little pale girls crying. As the men jostled each other and rolled on the ground clutching their faces, the images of little girls would sprout tears from their own great, shining bright eyes. The tears fell and mixed with blood seeping from the girl's vaginas. The mixture collected at the opposite end of this human canvas. As the stained tears filled the canvas, entire men would become submerged in the liquid image. They clutched their throats and coughed, hacking and gasping for air. Eventually they went limp. The mixture built up quickly, and the entire canvas became a pool of dark purple. Instantly, in unison, the drowned men stood up. They retrieved their weapons, and slowly filed out of the pyramid field to join the battle on the side of the Skyqueen.

    The Ravager and I tiptoed cautiously through the field. The Dutchess of Faux watched her canvas disperse into the battle. We came to the centre of the pyramid field, a bare patch of ground now wet with salt water. The Dutchess turned, as she slid her brush into her cloak.

    "Oh my, it's you, and you've brought a friend!" Faux squealed happily, "How did you manage this one? He was being so difficult earlier."

    Faux approached me, ignoring the Ravager. She opened the face mask on my helmet, and inspected my face. From the close distance, I realized her entire set of facial features, eyes, nose, mouth, were nothing but makeup.

    "How did you do it? You usually need to mark him with your own blood..." Her voice trailed off, as she pulled her head back. My eyes refocused on her face and her features appeared completely normal once more.

    The Ravager threw her net at Faux. Faux quickly reached into her cloak and flung her knife back towards Rav as the net flew through the air. The two weapons impacted simultaneously. The net's barbs and hooks dug into Faux, and wrapped her tightly. She remained silent, standing. She didn't struggle. Rav fell to the ground.

    I walked over to Ravager first. The knife was in her throat. Blood pumped out. She said to me, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She was coughing up blood as she said this. "I'm sorry I couldn't kill Cracky with you. I tried. I did my best."

    I realized with the amount of blood she was losing, she'd be dead soon. She was no longer of use to me. I stood up and turned to Faux. Ravager, from behind, choked out, "I love you."

    I walked over to Faux and picked her up. She was very tiny, and as a result weighed next to nothing. I heaved her into the pyramid field, and the wrapped body exploded into a vibrant green mist.

    I kept walking towards the ray of light shining through the darkened sky. Towards Her. Slowly crossed the pyramid field once more. Enemies locked in combat parted ways and let me through as I approached. After an hour of walking, I had walked out the other side of the fray.

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This is the end of pasta1.txt.  To be continued in pasta2.txt