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The Cultist below me believes that he is actually living a billion years ago in the body of a ten-foot tall cone. He is currently smoking a cigarillo.
The CBM needs to have his brain washed some more.
The cultist below me was going to join the Hare Krishnas, but doesn't think she looks good in pink and orange.
Besides the food was nasty. And I can falun gong in my pjs.
The cultist below me likes qigong in their tea.
The Cultist below me believes that the Great Race of Yith is a NASCAR event.
- NASCAR glorifies the great Ouroboros.
- the event features only Volkswagens (and so is open only to beetle folk)
The Cultist below me has a head like a monstrous toad.
The cultist below me thinks that the leader of the American Medical Association got what he deserved for messing with Yog-Sothoth.
The cultist below me has a special balm that will prevent your lips from getting windburned when you visit Hyperborea. Don't ask what's in it!
The cultist below me is starting a new website:
Catalog your gods online.
The cultist below me knows just how tasty cds are when mixed with fries and toothpaste.
Ah, sorry to differ with you, but as long as a god has been assigned an International Standard God Number (ISGN), anyone can catalog him/her/it.
CDs are tasty with fries, though perhaps excessively crunchy. I wish I had standard human-like dentition, instead of these wussy tentacles.
The cultist below me worries that the Internet will become conscious, take over the defense grid, and start a nuclear war without letting Cthulhu join in the destruction.
The cultist below me likes "In the Vault."
The cultist below me is a research scientist at Genentech. On a drunken dare after a three-martini lunch with the colleagues, s/he inserted some shoggoth RNA into his/her own genes. Lately weird things have been happening...
TCBM craves for a normal life.
The cultist below me lost his three-hundred year old ancestral home in the mortgage crisis.
The cultist below me picks up attractive cultists of the opposite sex by bragging, “Hey, baby. I’ve got shoggoth RNA.”
The cultist below me took a Continuing Education course on Lucid Dreaming at the community college, and is starting to regret it...
The cultist below me transformed herself into a cake after being harassed by a gypsy. (Don't worry, ashly7, Popescu has been trying to get my phone number (among other things) for years.)
TCBM wonders why oakes is balding.
The cultist below me is attracted to Cthulhu as a father figure.
Though if he is balding, it's probably from worrying about these new-fangled heretics who style themselves "Protestants." Apparantly they're as thick as flies in His Majesty's colonies in the Americas.
And it's not a father figure thing, it's just that I keep imagining how good those facial tentacles would taste with a little melted butter and tarragon.
The cultist below me just added a new signature line to his/her email account:
gphagli whalui, Cthulhu R'lyeh thunpharf!
Hurry my lovely, come smell my pharf.
The cultist below me wants facial tentacles.
Re: "free to be pink"
The cultist nine levels above me has just become a Vassar girl! (I think I am having a lucid dream.) Or she is carnophile (non-lucid dream). Or perhaps I am merely part of Cthulhu's dream, and will vanish when the latest group of silly cultists rings his buzzer.
The Cultist below me imagines that whenever the subway is coming, it is shrieking "Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!". Thus he flees up the escalator, usually missing his train.
Tekili-li is of course, an anagram of Elite Ilk, which is how the Old Ones regard themselves. Modesty is not really their principal virtue.
(Hey! I resent that! If you really get to know me, I think you’ll find my modesty is my best virtue! - Cthulhu.)
The cultist below me wishes people would look past all the hype - most of which was spread by Cthulhu’s enemies, by the way - and get to know the real Cthulhu. The sensitive Cthulhu who likes the music of Carly Simon, lavender-scented bubble baths, and long walks on the beach at sunset.
Hey, that's my line!
Sure, Cthulhu says he's sensitive, but does he ever call? Noo. The Call of Cthulhu is just a
The cultist below me gets to be the head of the local cult chapter by virtue of having a third nipple.
You swore to me, swore that you would never mention that in public.
Never forget I still have the IM dump.
The cultist below me thinks that the sleeper of N'kai is an ear adornment.
Well, you knew I was a disciple of Yog-Sothoth! Didn't really expect me to keep my promises, did you?
Everyone knows the sleeper of N'Kai is an earring for the one-eared god, Monaural.
The cultist below me would like to see a fight between the formless spawn of Tsathoggua and the T-1000.
The cultist below me, when he views the scene where Schwarzenegger sinks into the molten goo making the thumbs up sign ("Everything will be alright, Tommy") cries every time.
TCBM wants to leave the cult.
The cultist below me stands ready to hand over all of Earth's quantonium to Gallaxhar when he arrives.
The cultist below me thinks Pickman's Model is Cindy Crawford.
Hey, cool; they finally got the name change thing worked out. So I guess from now on we have to refer to you as "The Artist formerly known as Ashly7," since you have changed your name to an unpronounceable symbol string.
Happening across this group in the Groups page ("New Groups" section) also helped.
We will catch up with you in precisely 10 days, 14 hours, and 22 minutes.
(I know that's you!)