I'm not going to say what just happened, about an hour ago. I need to sit, and think a while. Process it.
[part of message deleted, as I know now who the Magician is, among those I've needed to find; you have my eternal gratitude for coining the term "hypersigil," however, or we'd have no idea how we managed to come together now, or what we need to craft on our quest.]
And now I have to get back to drinking water and sitting here in this charming little restaurant I just found. It's very difficult for me to remember to be Hyde right now, but I promised my friends I'd stay safe and stay Hyde, so. Here I am, hydrating. X3
"It's hard, but it's worth it." That's what I need to get across, in the hypersigil I'm wanting to help make.
.....it’s just A Theory, one that I happen to •agree• with.....
FOOTNOTE : In The Novel, he f**ks The Chief’s Wife, after a romantic lunch, in A Nooner; in The Movie, the entitled little prick simply just invites himself over at supper time, comes into The Chief’s Home and eats His Dinner. AND His Wife’s.
'I'm so DEPRESSED,' repeated Rimmer, 'SO depressed.'
Over the next couple of days, Lister slowly recovered in the medical bay. One morning, while Rimmer was off reading the “How to Cope With Your Own Death” booklet for the fifteenth time, Lister took the opportunity to ask Holly WHY he'd brought RIMMER back.
'You'd gone to pieces. You couldn't cope. You needed a companion.'
'But Rimmer??'
'I did a probability study,' LIED Holly, 'and it turns out Rimmer is absolutely the BEST person to keep you SANE.'
'Rimmer?'
Holly's disembodied head tilted forward in a nod.
'Why not Petersen?'
'A man who buys a methane-filled twenty-four bedroomed bijou residence on an oxygenless moon whose only distinction is that it rotates in the opposite direction from its mother planet - you seriously expect me to bring him back to keep you sane? Gordon Bennett - he couldn't even keep himself sane, let alone anyone else.'
'Yeah, but at least we had things in common.'
'The only thing you had in common was your mutual interest in consuming ridiculous amounts of alcohol.'
'Selby? Chen?'
'Ditto.'
'What about Krissie?'
'Dave, she finished with you.'
'But, Rimmer?? Anyone would have been better than Rimmer. Anyone. Hermann Goering would have been better than Rimmer. All right, he was a drug-crazed Nazi transvestite, but at last we could have gone dancing.'
'It was Jean-Paul Sartre,' said Holly, thinking it may very well actually have been Albert Camus, or yur'Flaubert, or perhaps it was even Sacha Distel, 'who said hell was being trapped for eternity in a room with your friends.'
'Sure,' said Lister, 'but all Sartre's mates were FRENCH.'
'I think I'm thinking, therefore I might possibly be,' Rimmer said aloud as he padded silently around the sleeping quarters in his hologramatic slippers. Try as he might, he couldn't even •begin• to grapple with the metaphysics of it all.
Something changed, today.
I'm not going to say what just happened, about an hour ago. I need to sit, and think a while. Process it.
[part of message deleted, as I know now who the Magician is, among those I've needed to find; you have my eternal gratitude for coining the term "hypersigil," however, or we'd have no idea how we managed to come together now, or what we need to craft on our quest.]
And now I have to get back to drinking water and sitting here in this charming little restaurant I just found. It's very difficult for me to remember to be Hyde right now, but I promised my friends I'd stay safe and stay Hyde, so. Here I am, hydrating. X3
"It's hard, but it's worth it." That's what I need to get across, in the hypersigil I'm wanting to help make.
Thanks so much for your time. ❤️
"17th-century witches nearly extinct" - strong contender for headline of the year
“Where WERE You?”
Where I Was -- I am He and He is Me.
IWas Him, He Will Be Me.
Jamie McCrimmon : ....who will •I• be..?
A. : The Redeemer of Planet-14, obviously --
Stuff •that• down yer canon an’ poke ya silly, wee Sassenach-Beasties, ye!
• REMEMBER BRUCE •
Ringo : •I’ve• got A HOLE in My Pocket..!!
I've read them all, and I still have no idea what any of this means.
ah speak of the devil!
“We FOUND Something! We’re Not The FIRST!”
You MANIACS...!!
You BLEW it UP!!!
God, DAMN You..!!!
DAMN You ALL to HELL....!!!
Dr. Morrison..... What IS in Room-437....?
A. : Secret 437, "It's hard to fly with The Eagles when you're surrounded by Turkeys."
The Policeman’s Wife :
Honey....? Can You DO That?
The Policeman (drunk) :
I can Do Anything I WANT,
I’m The Chief of Police.
Matt Hooper : That’s called “Territoriality” --
.....it’s just A Theory, one that I happen to •agree• with.....
FOOTNOTE : In The Novel, he f**ks The Chief’s Wife, after a romantic lunch, in A Nooner; in The Movie, the entitled little prick simply just invites himself over at supper time, comes into The Chief’s Home and eats His Dinner. AND His Wife’s.
Will, I am,
I am Will --
(Shakes Spear)
He knew How to Make Us FEEL, okay?
it doesn’t Matter
as you are approaching The Speed of Light --
it does Energy
No, no -- That’s GERMAN.
It Says, “The Modern, The.”
WORST IDEA EVER
Oz : We attack The Mayor with Hummus.
Chase : I Stand corrected.....
HELP! in semaphore is N-U-J-V :
Be Pacific --
H for “Hurry!
E for “Ergent!”
L for “Love Me..!!” and
P for “won’t You Please, PLEASE Help Me!”
I’ve tried signalling Nix Wotan with it (on a Wednesday) it WORKS, Believe Me (or Don’t).
....The Submarine is YELLOW, because it is Constructed of FEARS -- impenetrable armour.
.....until somebody presses The (Panic) Button.
'I'm so DEPRESSED,' repeated Rimmer, 'SO depressed.'
Over the next couple of days, Lister slowly recovered in the medical bay. One morning, while Rimmer was off reading the “How to Cope With Your Own Death” booklet for the fifteenth time, Lister took the opportunity to ask Holly WHY he'd brought RIMMER back.
'You'd gone to pieces. You couldn't cope. You needed a companion.'
'But Rimmer??'
'I did a probability study,' LIED Holly, 'and it turns out Rimmer is absolutely the BEST person to keep you SANE.'
'Rimmer?'
Holly's disembodied head tilted forward in a nod.
'Why not Petersen?'
'A man who buys a methane-filled twenty-four bedroomed bijou residence on an oxygenless moon whose only distinction is that it rotates in the opposite direction from its mother planet - you seriously expect me to bring him back to keep you sane? Gordon Bennett - he couldn't even keep himself sane, let alone anyone else.'
'Yeah, but at least we had things in common.'
'The only thing you had in common was your mutual interest in consuming ridiculous amounts of alcohol.'
'Selby? Chen?'
'Ditto.'
'What about Krissie?'
'Dave, she finished with you.'
'But, Rimmer?? Anyone would have been better than Rimmer. Anyone. Hermann Goering would have been better than Rimmer. All right, he was a drug-crazed Nazi transvestite, but at last we could have gone dancing.'
'It was Jean-Paul Sartre,' said Holly, thinking it may very well actually have been Albert Camus, or yur'Flaubert, or perhaps it was even Sacha Distel, 'who said hell was being trapped for eternity in a room with your friends.'
'Sure,' said Lister, 'but all Sartre's mates were FRENCH.'
'I think I'm thinking, therefore I might possibly be,' Rimmer said aloud as he padded silently around the sleeping quarters in his hologramatic slippers. Try as he might, he couldn't even •begin• to grapple with the metaphysics of it all.