ilx posts with striking imagery

at least we've cleared up the confusion over whether his ass is the spackle or the knife

I usually prefer to let the reader create their own meaning.

fill the gaps, as it were

i generally don't spackle twice ... sometimes I'm so good, I don't even _need_ to sand

beto's ass believes in DIY, he would use toothpaste.

don't spackle twice i'm alt-right

what? sorry.

that would be stupid because toothpaste is more expensive. I could see it making do with drywall mud in a pinch

xp but spackle isn't doughy -- it's more like pancake batter, but when it gets dried out it's a bit crumbly (kinda like feta) -- but doughy? You're thinking of a different building material.

shit, you're right. I guess I should stop holding myself up as an authority on home improvement (and butts)

you can still be an authority on butts

*multiple spinning red and purple yin-yang symbols*

a timeline where a 70 odd year old Irish member of the Coyle family became an Ilxer after googling Daniel O'Donnell's hypnagogic phase, and finding the gateway drug ILM.

― calzino, Thursday, 9 May 2019 09:55 (thirty-six minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

Fifteen years ago this week: Some live crickets escaped from a package at work, Jimmy 'the fish' Dolan said he'd seen Marty Wilde in a black Lexus on the ring-road, AND I saw an old man who was covered in grass stains walking a terrier.
I knew keeping a diary would pay off.

— Kevin Boniface (@MrKevinBoniface) May 10, 2019

sorry not an ILX post but still good enough to park here I thought.

there was a Stoke fan poster from a sub football message-board I used to frequent in the previous decade who was a published author of some seemingly very bad books + who lectured at Norwich uni and was a bit of an arrogant dick, but a very very funny poster with it and he hated New Labour with a passion. The poor guy ended up downing a bottle of vodka and jumping off a bridge and ending it 10 years ago. He once posted a list of reasons why Lampard is a cunt that went something like: 1. Lisping Tory Boy Cunt 2. Corporeality... I still don't understand the meaning of 2 and it has stuck in my mind, but 1 perfectly fine (with the caveat I don't judge on speech impediments but in this case...).

― calzino, Saturday, 24 August 2019 21:42 (three days ago) link

if you are curious about his books (which I most certainly never have been!) he was called Stephen Foster and his published works were about his dogs, he did an account of a season of following Pulis era Stoke(｀ ∀ ´)Ψ, a smug 80's memoir where he boasts about how much fucking he did and what a cool, hilarious character he was etc (which was his posting style tbf) I think his dog books sold 100000+ copies!

John isn't from round here, he's from down South somewhere but had also spent the 22 years based in Corsica.

He got a £450,000 pay out from the Army because he got blown up in Uganda and wasn't expected to live. He has 4 years left until he can officially retire, but his now a chef, in something army related

He told me had done a number of extractions, some in Iran and one in this country. He was tortured in Iran in 1995. He recently did some work in Syria. He showed me a bullet wound in his leg, i couldnt quite tell what was going on with his hand

We were on the bus to Haworth, he said, when he first came to the area he spent 6 months in Haworth. He said no one had lived there for 6 months, and there was a rat. the rat wasnt frightened so he was able to kill it with a brick. He told his landlord and the landlord told him to buy some traps. Over the next couple of weeks he caught 14 or 15 rats and put them in the freezer. When the landlord came he took them out and wrapped them up and gave them to his landlord as a moving-in present

He spent some time in the brecon beacons where the army do some exercises, and during a training exercise 6 people died from hypothermia and it got into the newspapers

― anvil, Wednesday, 11 February 2015 13:01 (four years ago) bookmarkflaglink

John was actually born and grew up in France, and still has a french barclaycard, which is frequently refused in restaurants and shops. its bright yellow, as he cant see the normal one properly. he showed me it, and i could see that his surname is Le Chat. Unfortunately i cant quite remember his first name, so I am calling him John because i think it was something like that

He carries around a 50kg backpack, just as he always has done, and frequently runs over the top of the moors from Hebden Bridge to Haworth, although today he was on the bus. He was in Wilmslow, near Manchester a couple of weeks ago, and someone came up to him and asked him if he is the mad runner in haworth

― anvil, Wednesday, 11 February 2015 13:05 (four years ago) bookmarkflaglink

John jumped out of aeroplanes when in the army, and there was a competition who could pull the parachute chord last, and he lost a friend that way

When the tour de france passed through here, he said a man stood next to him near a wall, and he was sure he recognized the man and asked him, do i know you from my Gym? but he wasnt from round there, and it was really bugging him who this man was, later that day he turned on the television coverage and realized it was David Beckham

John said most of the extractions were of people that wanted to go, but when he got caught in Iran, they tortured him and smashed his teeth with a hammer.

― anvil, Wednesday, 11 February 2015 13:08 (four years ago) bookmarkflaglink

I asked him where he would go in 4 years when his retirement comes up, bt he doesnt know, he has a couple of houses and is playing the game, though he is currently renting in sowerby bridge

John lent me 20p because my card had been stopped and i wasnt sure if i had enough for the bus, otherwise I thought i might have to go into the square and see if Chris was protesting against Gaza, to see if she had any spare change. I still didnt quite have enough, for my second bus journey after this one, so i walked the last part

― anvil, Wednesday, 11 February 2015 13:11 (four years ago) bookmarkflaglink

John sister worked for Novell for 22 years and got a large redundancy payout and was able to retire at 38 years old

There was a man in Haworth that he met when he was in Turkey but i forgot the rest of that part, I tried to remember the rest of what John told me, as there was quite a bit more as we were on the bus for nearly an hour

― anvil, Wednesday, 11 February 2015 13:13 (four years ago) bookmarkflaglink

John said at one of the banks, the pens were tied down and he said how am i supposed to trust you if you dont trust your customers not to take the pens. At Barclays they dont tie down the pens. He always takes the pen away at Barclays, but thats because he is always short of pens

― anvil, Wednesday, 11 February 2015 13:43 (four years ago) bookmarkflaglink

✔✔✔

magic

if ever you find yourself thinking 'golly, x is a good poster' it can be worth scrolling the post history

^ strikingly imagory

I lived for 6 months with my wife on a hutong off nanluoguxiang in beijing, it was one of those courtyard houses, we just had one room in the complex owned by a terrifying old lady we had to call "dama" - she was part of a "red song" singing contest and used to practice tunelessly singing a song about "we will take the landlord's stick and beat him with it" outside my door at 5.30am every fucking day, she was literally my landlord and walked around with a stick.

― mfktz (Camaraderie at Arms Length), Tuesday, 24 December 2019 14:32 (one hour ago) bookmarkflaglink

10. putting chilli sauce on vanilla ice cream - one mouthful was enough to cause projectile vomiting.

― snoball, Saturday, 4 July 2009 09:46 (ten years ago)

nothing comes out of my butt when i masturbate.

― Yerac, Saturday, March 7, 2020 11:23 AM (nine hours ago)

theres ppl on the planet who pay good money to be probed all sorts of places but listen i dont judge em i can only tell you ill jumpstart a hearse get it rolling toward the graveyard fling myself into the back of it and will myself to room temperature before i become fig a in the nightmare above

― thou shalt not covid thy neighbour's wife (darraghmac), Monday, March 23, 2020 2:56 AM (six hours ago) bookmarkflaglink

classic deems

one time i tried to hoover up a wasp, then it was alive in the cylinder so I hoovered up some smoke to kill it, then I sucked up a burning ember and the whole thing turned into an inferno, and I had to throw it in the garden. wasp still somehow survived. can't go so badly this time though.

this shambling hulk of a man who sweats butter and cums foie gras is in the peak of good health!

― bam! Free bees! (bizarro gazzara), Wednesday, 8 April 2020 12:09 (two weeks ago) bookmarkflaglink

yeah, sorry about that

lol, always (figuratively) spraying your starchy tatty watter all over the place! Hope you are having a good bizarro gazzara day old pal!

"a handful of idiots that own very little but are still gung-ho to reopen society"

I'd classify them more as the driven than the drivers, but they occupy the figurative space of the dogs hanging out the window and loving the breeze as they are taken to the death shelter.
― A is for (Aimless), Thursday, May 14, 2020

I mean just the variation in respiratory physiology and your manner of speaking could explain it. You could be a confident braying firehose of coronavirus vs some other person with gnarled and turbid sinuses that speaks to the floor in whispers.

― avellano medio inglés (f. hazel), Wednesday, June 3, 2020 12:53 PM (four hours ago)

Turbid Sinuses 2020

reminds me of summer seven years ago when I was forced to attend a weekend family reunion on my mom's side at a rented cabin in Wabasha, Minnesota where I was subjected to endless games of cornhole while being forced to wear a commemorative yellow Larson Family t-shirt and the last thing I remember hearing before blacking out drunk on Busch Light was the horrible cackling of my racist aunt-in-law bleating the words "now they're going after Paula Deen"

― the burrito that defined a generation, Wednesday, June 17, 2020 10:25 PM (twenty-four minutes ago) bookmarkflaglink

That’s not striking, that’s just Thanksgiving

there was some Bruce Springsteen photo with pubes posted once, it was hot

― brimstead, Tuesday, June 23, 2020 9:42 PM bookmarkflaglink

rawr

tonight im making a nice dessert. grilled peaches, skewered with a cinnammon stick and mint leaf. brushed with butter, bourbon and brown sugar sauce. then, placed on top of vanilla ice cream. i may hump them.

― Chris 'The Nuts' V (Chris V), Friday, May 20, 2005 9:17 AM (fifteen years ago)

when we played rock paper scissors on the playground, this one kid would always go "bulldozer!" and of course that would defeat any other choice. but then this one other kid would go "bart simpson!" and somehow that would defeat even the bulldozer. i couldn't watch the simpsons at that time (circa '90) because our family television's reception didn't pick up channel 30/fox very well at all. but i remember thinking, wow, bart simpson is very powerful

― Karl Malone, Friday, September 11, 2020 12:25 PM (nine hours ago) bookmarkflaglink

maybe not the strikingest imagery but i wanted to commemorate this post somewhere

Always think about the middle-aged Silent Generation couple dressing up and getting a sitter so they can go see the latest Peter Sellers movie.

― pplains, Wednesday, September 16, 2020 12:03 PM (fifty-seven minutes ago) bookmarkflaglink

i mean sure in a just universe we would never have gotten here but i'm trying to apply occam's razor somewhere other than my wrists

― Fuck the NRA (ulysses), Tuesday, September 29, 2020 12:47 PM

From Bands whose fans were their own subculture

My only more personal interaction with a Juggalo was with a Juggalette in a small town in mountainous northern California.

We'd hopped off a boxcar the evening before, grabbed beers and food, and found a good place to camp by the river. But later that night, it began to rain, so we had to pack up all our shit and hike in pouring rain to an overpass, where we slept in dust for a few hours.

Eventually we wandered back into town, ending up at an oddly placed gazebo along the main street. It was still pouring, and we were exhausted, and then this young woman came up to us and asked us if she could help us in any way. She also asked whether we had gotten in on a freight train and we said yes. We were a little suspicious, but we followed her when she said we could dry off and cook food at her house.

Which was a small, bleak apartment in an old apartment building that used to be a whorehouse, in sight of the river and the train tracks. We were hanging out with her, she kept packing bowls of ditch weed and talking about how her kid got taken from her. There were lots of legal papers scattered about, and she had two very young kittens living with her. We had our stuff in her dryer and cooker up some chili ramen.

Then, she answered her phone with a "whoop whoop" and we knew immediately that we were in the presence of a Juggalette.

Her mom came over and asked us why we were trying to get her daughter to run away from the small town. We told her we were doing nothing of the sort.

Eventually, it cleared up and our stuff got dry, and we cleared out. We talked about her sometimes, the kindly Juggalette.

Two years later, we're at the hobo museum where we eventually lived for a while, but that's besides the point. She was there! It was near the town where we'd first met her and during a party weekend, and I recognized her immediately. She had a hatchetman tattoo on her foot. She didn't recognize me at all but kept hitting on me all weekend even when my now-husband showed up and we were being all gross and queer hobo.

Anyway, when we moved to the area for a bit and I worked in the grocery store in town, she came in while I was cashiering, and my co-worker watched her try to steal a bunch of supplements. So, the last time I saw her, she was telling me that I was cute but that my co-worker was a terrible cunt who could get fucked. Never saw her again, a lost soul in northern California mountain towns.

― healthy cocaine off perfect butts (the table is the table), Saturday, October 3, 2020 5:15 PM

Raymond Carver meets ICP.

Woop woop

i love that post very much, it’s so good

Spaghetti models keep shifting west, with current landfall in largely uninhabited wetlands of Vermillion Parish. If they keep shifting, its another hit (after Laura) on Cameron Parish. Possibly the least developed part of the US Atlantic coast, just what's left of wetlands after the oil companies were done. Abandoned canals through wildlife refuges, only gas stations and gun shops on the highway.

― Sanpaku, Tuesday, October 6, 2020 9:21 PM (thirty-seven minutes ago) bookmarkflaglink

j.g. ballard up in here

Paint that post

My uncle's band played for years at The Howling Dog in Fairbanks, Alaska, which is technically not in Fairbanks but in Fox, the next town over. It's huge and drafty and impossible to heat, so it generally closes for the winter right after Halloween. It's a longish drive, and you risk hitting a moose every time you drive out there on a dark icy night in late fall. I miss it a lot.

It kinda looks like a huge ramshackle cabin with a stage and dance floor, and it's got the usual dive bar decor - bras, signed dollar bills, album covers, weird-ass art projects - but the centerpiece is the red carpet on the stage, which was originally rolled out for a historic meeting between the pope and the president at the Fairbanks airport in 1984. I asked my uncle once how the carpet got to the bar, and all he said was, "My buddy Steve. He lays carpet," which didn't really answer the question.

― Lily Dale, Monday, October 19, 2020 9:58 PM (yesterday) bookmarkflaglink