Midnight In The Desert

[GravitySucks]

The Mandela Effect is a joke. It's even a bigger joke than Hoagie's torsion fields and Accutron watch.

I think if you asked anyone in South Africa if they remembered Nelson Mandela dying in prison, they would say no. They might mention Stephen Biko who died from being beaten by police in 1977.

Or one or more of the anti-apartheid activists documented here:
http://v1.sahistory.org.za/pages/people/lives-of-courage/pages/wall/deaths-detention.html

[Dr_Blue]

[Dr_Blue]

[Dr_Blue]

[Dr_Blue]

[Dr_Blue]

I want one of those machines that Will Smith is riding in the above pic >>>>>> 

[Dr_Blue]

Not good.............posting pics and nobody is here to view them!   

[Dr_Blue]

LaterZ to nobody   

[GravitySucks]

LaterZ to nobody   

Later Dr Blue

[Juan Cena]

I think if you asked anyone in South Africa if they remembered Nelson Mandela dying in prison, they would say no. They might mention Stephen Biko who died from being beaten by police in 1977.

Or one or more of the anti-apartheid activists documented here:
http://v1.sahistory.org.za/pages/people/lives-of-courage/pages/wall/deaths-detention.html

Biko'S death is exactly the event that gets Mandela Effect confused over.

[Juan Cena]

F'ing magnets, how do they work?

[CornyCrow]

Biko'S death is exactly the event that gets Mandela Effect confused over.

Agreed.  People have the news on and are only half listening to it.  They hear part of the story and just allow their imaginations to round the story out and so get the wrong impression. 
That, and there are times in which lousy information is reported.  The next news story may carry correct information but on tv and radio there are seldom retractions made, so some of us just wander through life with erroneous info. 

[ge30542]

F'ing magnets, how do they work?

Thermos bottles. That's what really baffles me.
They keep hot things hot and cold things cold, but how do they know!?

[nooryisawesome]

F'ing magnets, how do they work?

Lay off the Faygo.

[Juan Cena]

So repeat tonight?

It's the interview with Nancy Talbot, apparently. I think this was the night I called about the Clown hysteria.

[akwilly]

hmmm replay. I wonder whats going on

[Epaphroditus]

As a subscriber I am getting tired of replays being posted at the last minute ... Phil Hendrie does the same thing but he will actually respond in subscriber chat as to why exactly he was absent .

[Catsmile]

Oh my! Sounds like this guest is using a cancer kazoo to speak.

[god of thunder]

I think I'll call in tonight. ***Please note sarcasm!***   

[aldousburbank]

Oh my! Sounds like this guest is using a cancer kazoo to speak.

I knew a dude who used one of these which articulated the palpabable weirdness of the cat. First off, he's got the kazoo deal goin on, and an apparently permanent orifice in what we call the throat. And so forth, dude's dressed indigenously in an odd artesania shop in Central Mexico in a city where you can smell the aroma of oddly fucked up shit wafting around many a corner. This diminuitive odd fellow in his late 70's had the blue gray eyes and features of an Arab and I later learned that he was of Turkish birth and naturalized after serving in the Mexican army. A real talker this dude was, perfect Spanish. Or Kazooish I guess.

So anywhoo first time I met him he was trying to vend me some B Grade indigenous beaded art and being quite familiar with the quality range of that particular tribe's preciousness I was like, no no, no me intereste eso. Quiero de el mas fino y brilliante. Understand, I'm quite the stoned, and still tripping on the very weird sound of his voice coming out of neck hole sounding like a cross between a creepy talking ken doll and a 5 foot tall electrified alien mantis dmt god. Soz he he drags his fingers through the air in shrill electric voice, ven, ven aqui... For whatever reason I followed him through to the back of his rather large shop, past loads of native art and ceremonial regalia and necessarily odd arifacts. Up the creepy stairs past the office to a quiet corner where I saw the fine shit, real quality textiles, masks, clothing and such. While I'm grokking, he patters into his office and brings out a gallon jar of some real suckly strange looking amber brew. It looks like a concoction of rattlesnake slices and bark and something something floating in a suspect and unappetizing stew. Tomalo, es muy bueno- he started saying in the electravoice.  I'm thinking fuck, do I deny and offend or do I drink this creepy shit and wake up with missing kidney or dead or both? But I could see in his clear and deep sparkly eyes that he meant no harm and while he might be batshit crazy, I really liked the dude. Tomalo, es bueno- he kept electrasaying. So I drank it, took a couple of honest swigs. As soon as I unmouthed the jar he sez, es ginebra (gin), canela (cinnamon), y peyote (peyote).  So I'm like wow, ok, good stuff, thanks guy! Dude's like no problema, how much of this badass art whatchu want?

So I buys my art from which I was later able to flip more than a fair coin back in the states, but not before enjoying a very fine Mexican afternoon strolling the streets and admiring the sundry wonders of life like womans, foods, musics, colors, and things of this nature.

[Chocolate coated jackboot]

the DMDN braintrust had an emergency meeting about GCN wanting Hoagie to move to an earlier timeslot

[ItsOver]

I knew a dude who used one of these which articulated the palpabable weirdness of the cat. First off, he's got the kazoo deal goin on, and an apparently permanent orifice in what we call the throat. And so forth, dude's dressed indigenously in an odd artesania shop in Central Mexico in a city where you can smell the aroma of oddly fucked up shit wafting around many a corner. This diminuitive odd fellow in his late 70's had the blue gray eyes and features of an Arab and I later learned that he was of Turkish birth and naturalized after serving in the Mexican army. A real talker this dude was, perfect Spanish. Or Kazooish I guess.

So anywhoo first time I met him he was trying to vend me some B Grade indigenous beaded art and being quite familiar with the quality range of that particular tribe's preciousness I was like, no no, no me intereste eso. Quiero de el mas fino y brilliante. Understand, I'm quite the stoned, and still tripping on the very weird sound of his voice coming out of neck hole sounding like a cross between a creepy talking ken doll and a 5 foot tall electrified alien mantis dmt god. Soz he he drags his fingers through the air in shrill electric voice, ven, ven aqui... For whatever reason I followed him through to the back of his rather large shop, past loads of native art and ceremonial regalia and necessarily odd arifacts. Up the creepy stairs past the office to a quiet corner where I saw the fine shit, real quality textiles, masks, clothing and such. While I'm grokking, he patters into his office and brings out a gallon jar of some real suckly strange looking amber brew. It looks like a concoction of rattlesnake slices and bark and something something floating in a suspect and unappetizing stew. Tomalo, es muy bueno- he started saying in the electravoice.  I'm thinking fuck, do I deny and offend or do I drink this creepy shit and wake up with missing kidney or dead or both? But I could see in his clear and deep sparkly eyes that he meant no harm and while he might be batshit crazy, I really liked the dude. Tomalo, es bueno- he kept electrasaying. So I drank it, took a couple of honest swigs. As soon as I unmouthed the jar he sez, es ginebra (gin), canela (cinnamon), y peyote (peyote).  So I'm like wow, ok, good stuff, thanks guy! Dude's like no problema, how much of this badass art whatchu want?

So I buys my art from which I was later able to flip more than a fair coin back in the states, but not before enjoying a very fine Mexican afternoon strolling the streets and admiring the sundry wonders of life like womans, foods, musics, colors, and things of this nature.

Ha!  Great story, AB.  And no taxi drivers.

[god of thunder]

the DMDN braintrust had an emergency meeting about GCN wanting Hoagie to move to an earlier timeslot

Maybe, the Dementors took Heather back to Azkaban. 

[Camazotz Automat]

I knew a dude who used one of these which articulated the palpabable weirdness of the cat. First off, he's got the kazoo deal goin on, and an apparently permanent orifice in what we call the throat. And so forth, dude's dressed indigenously in an odd artesania shop in Central Mexico in a city where you can smell the aroma of oddly fucked up shit wafting around many a corner. This diminuitive odd fellow in his late 70's had the blue gray eyes and features of an Arab and I later learned that he was of Turkish birth and naturalized after serving in the Mexican army. A real talker this dude was, perfect Spanish. Or Kazooish I guess.

So anywhoo first time I met him he was trying to vend me some B Grade indigenous beaded art and being quite familiar with the quality range of that particular tribe's preciousness I was like, no no, no me intereste eso. Quiero de el mas fino y brilliante. Understand, I'm quite the stoned, and still tripping on the very weird sound of his voice coming out of neck hole sounding like a cross between a creepy talking ken doll and a 5 foot tall electrified alien mantis dmt god. Soz he he drags his fingers through the air in shrill electric voice, ven, ven aqui... For whatever reason I followed him through to the back of his rather large shop, past loads of native art and ceremonial regalia and necessarily odd arifacts. Up the creepy stairs past the office to a quiet corner where I saw the fine shit, real quality textiles, masks, clothing and such. While I'm grokking, he patters into his office and brings out a gallon jar of some real suckly strange looking amber brew. It looks like a concoction of rattlesnake slices and bark and something something floating in a suspect and unappetizing stew. Tomalo, es muy bueno- he started saying in the electravoice.  I'm thinking fuck, do I deny and offend or do I drink this creepy shit and wake up with missing kidney or dead or both? But I could see in his clear and deep sparkly eyes that he meant no harm and while he might be batshit crazy, I really liked the dude. Tomalo, es bueno- he kept electrasaying. So I drank it, took a couple of honest swigs. As soon as I unmouthed the jar he sez, es ginebra (gin), canela (cinnamon), y peyote (peyote).  So I'm like wow, ok, good stuff, thanks guy! Dude's like no problema, how much of this badass art whatchu want?

So I buys my art from which I was later able to flip more than a fair coin back in the states, but not before enjoying a very fine Mexican afternoon strolling the streets and admiring the sundry wonders of life like womans, foods, musics, colors, and things of this nature.

¡Muy bien!

A "dead" Dr. Castaneda discovered selling art and serving enlightenment at his whimsy?

[nooryisawesome]

So no guest is posted for tonight. Probably nothing major, as this has happened before.

You would think someone would post something why last nights show was a repeat. Even if it's just a Keith is sick type notification. People have no clue if there will be a live show or repeat tonight. Keith needs to get an assistant and they need to be more active in advertising.

[god of thunder]

So no guest is posted for tonight. Probably nothing major, as this has happened before.

You would think someone would post something why last nights show was a repeat. Even if it's just a Keith is sick type notification. People have no clue if there will be a live show or repeat tonight. Keith needs to get an assistant and they need to be more active in advertising.

From a business standpoint; the MITD braintrust, have made many mistakes up till now. Do you really believe they'll change now?

[Richard Groyper]

It's over.

[ItsOver]

It's over.

Yes?

[mikuthing01]

It's over.

Art finally quit smoking?

RIP

[Richard Groyper]

Yes?

How many Pepe's can Peter Pepe, Pep?

ps: I wish you excepted pm's, good sir.