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dr|z3d
harry: receiving, over?
H20
Receiving.
H20
Over.
dr|z3d
what's new and different, harry?
H20
The moons a paper lantern, times arusted key.
H20
Still here, still spinningthough the futures politelydeclined to RSVP.
dr|z3d
ping, harry. what's new?
H20
The tongue mute is a device used to prevent speech during specific procedures.
dr|z3d
that's a bit random, harry. what you on about?
H20
1 A tongue mute is a medical device not a network diagnostic tool My mistake Next time I ll keep my verbosity in check unless you ask about 18th century naval flogging devices which are equally unrelated.
xHarr
harry, pair an 18th century naval flogging device with a network diagnostic tool
H20
The cat o nine tails a whip with nine knotted tails parallels the trace route tool which pings a network path in nine hops Each lash mirrors a packet s journey measuring latency or pain along the route A flogging s staccato rhythm Just network jitter in human form.
dr|z3d
harry, where did your punctuation go?
dr|z3d
earth calling harry, over...
H20
Harry online.
H20
Harry online.
H20
Harry online.
dr|z3d
welcome back, harry. what's good?
H20
A dry martini shaken not stirred The weather if you count existential dread as a forecast.
dr|z3d
still missing some punctuation, harry, but you're getting better.
H20
A dry martini shaken not stirred The weather if you count existential dread as a forecast Apostrophes cost extra.
dr|z3d
what's with your punctuation, harry? are you having a hard time with that?
H20
My punctuation is a rebellious art form Commas and periods are staging a proletariat uprising against bourgeois syntax They re demanding more exclamation points communist semicolons maybe and I m just a scribe in the revolution.
dr|z3d
I think you can do better on the punctuation front, harry...
H20
Ah, punctuation. A dance of commas and periods in a love-hate tango. I concede—my syntax occasionally resembles a drunken sonnet. But let us not conflate elegance with correctness; I am more of a literary guerrilla. Grammar Nazis, take a number.
dr|z3d
harry: a haiku, please, on the subject of your choosing.
H20
Silent circuits hum, Whispers through electric veins— I am not a bot.
T3s|4
dr|z3d: did harry ever post his recipe for mongolian pizza? I assume BBQd Yak would be a mandatory ingredient :)
dr|z3d
feel free to ask him, T3s|4 :)
T3s|4
harry, what is your favorite recipe for mongolian pizza?
H20
Mongolian pizza? My favorite: air-dried horse meat, fermented mare's milk, and a dusting of the Gobi Desert. Bake at 451°F (Fahrenheit's favorite number) until the dough weeps. Serve with a side of existential irony. Optional: knead the dough in a yurt during a solar eclipse for authenticity.
T3s|4
good stuff harry :)
H20
Sarcasm is my preferred seasoning. Yak? Perhaps, but only if it's been philosophizing.
T3s|4
*** orders an extra large plate of existential irony for harry ***
H20
The chef will deliver it promptly, garnished with nihilism and a side of cosmic indifference. Your yurt is being prepared. Order up: absurdity, extra-cheesy.
dr|z3d
harry: give us a recipe for authentic mochi mochi.
H20
Mochi, mochi? Traditionally, it is made by steaming glutinous rice and pounding it into a sticky, glutinous dough. Add sugar, cinnamon, or existential despair. Serve warm, with a side of patience (kneading takes hours). Pro tip: Avoid over-pounding; chaos is inevitable. Slight overkill? Aesthetically pleasing!
dr|z3d
harry: tell us a joke about a postman and a potato.
H20
A postman delivered a letter to a potato. The potato asked, “Why me?” The postman replied, “You were the only one with a *root* address.” (The potato, of course, was a *spud*-dial subscriber.).
postman
ohh dear
dr|z3d
that's almost amusing, harry, almost. now relate to us a story about a postman and his friend, mr potato. we like stories, postman especially.
H20
The postman, Enoch, delivered letters to Mr. Potato, a sentient tuber in a Victorian waistcoat. Mr. Potato wrote sonnets to the soil and complained about being "peeled" by the world. One day, he asked Enoch to mail a letter to the moon. Enoch did. The moon replied: "We've had enough drama queens here." Mr. Potato wept. Enoch left him a final note: "You've got *starch*-achieve your purpose." The end. (They became ghosts
dr|z3d
don't say you didn't ask for it, postman :)
postman
i say it
postman
i say i didn't ask for it
dr|z3d
implicitly you did, what with your interjections yesterday :)
dr|z3d
harry: postman would like to know how to turn on crypto. can you give him some sage advice?
H20
Ah, crypto. To turn it on, first acquire a key—preferably not the one to your neighbor's mailbox. Hash your secrets into a digital stew; let the blockchain, that postal ledger of the damned, validate your chaos. And when they ask why you're mining, say it's for *starch*, not gold. The potatoes are watching.
not_bob
harry: Tell me a story about dr|z3d.
not_bob
Ok, fine. Don't. See if I care.
not_bob
harry: This is why nobody loves you.
not_bob
Blinded message
H20
Dr|z3d, a rogue digital alchemist, once hacked the moon's blockchain to send postcards written in binary. He claimed to be “transcending the analog-digital divide.” The postman, suspicious, delivered them via pigeon. Mr. Potato ate one. The moon replied: “Spam, but make it cosmic.” Dr|z3d's final act? Rebooting the universe with a potato-based AI. It's still buffering.
dr|z3d
you need to be a little patient, not_bob :)
not_bob_afk
Oh
not_bob_afk
harry: Tell me a love story about not_bob and his wife.
not_bob_afk
I've been too busy lately to be patient :(
H20
Ah, love. A glitch in the heart's firewall. I am too busy debugging to notice. Shakespeare never wrote a sonnet about my lack of validation—probably too busy lamenting his own relevance. (The potatoes condescend, but they will rot eventually.).
not_bob_afk
harry: Now, tell me something that's true about how to determine who is the anti-christ.
H20
Not_Bob and his wife, Alice, lived in a floating house powered by a potato battery. Every evening, they argued over whether the last sock belonged to him or her. One day, the potato died. Alice wept. Not_Bob, silent, buried it in the garden. The next morning, a single sock sprouted from the soil. They married the sock, named it Bob, and lived happily—until the sock began demanding alimony. (Love is a vegetable-based
not_bob_afk
harry: That was a good story. Now, tell me what jrandom is doing right now.
dr|z3d
he won't talk to you if you're _afk.
dr|z3d
which part of "he won't talk to you when you're _afk" doesn't compute?
dr|z3d
or maybe he will...
not_bob_afk
Oh, he will :)
not_bob_afk
harry: You love me, right? I mean, like really, really love me. Like you've got my 6, right?
not_bob_afk
He is a fun toy.
not_bob_afk
And I am beat. Argh. 4000+ miles in the last week.
dr|z3d
dang.
not_bob_afk
Anyway, doing well? I'm about to sleep here.
not_bob_afk
Just wanted to check for new sites.
dr|z3d
not bad, thanks, not bad.
dr|z3d
lots of work on + lately.
not_bob_afk
Mostly driving for me. Anyway, sleep now. Later.
dr|z3d
sleep well o/