Suggested wine pairing: spray something grape-scented in the air and drink bourbon.
UPDATE
It’s time for
©2008-2024 Chris Combs Powered by WordPress with ComicPress
Suggested wine pairing: spray something grape-scented in the air and drink bourbon.
It’s time for
©2008-2024 Chris Combs Powered by WordPress with ComicPress
That’d be a good Groundhog Day sequel, called Friday I’m in Love
the question you have to keep in mind when dealing with eldritch horrors, is “perfect for what?”.
today I saw some magpies and some people with trash grabbers. they looked the same, except some looked happy to be there and some just looked orange.
garbage collectors are also summoned through an eldritch recipe, (encase a lead soldier in molten gold, blow bubbles into the gold as it cools, and shave off the bubbles at the top of the gold. (they don’t have to be whole, but bigger and more intact bubbles make better garbage collectors.) for each bubble you give to a magpie, one garbage collector will mysteriously apply to your job offer.) that’s why they don’t get hazard pay.
what I’m saying is, the perfect chicken tender would never be able to love anything except the chickens.
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1406: Sfinx is norwegian brand of box of chocolates, making them a healthier treatment for heartbreak than most manly strangers.
1407: the sphinx is a Masonic symbol of mystery. firstly: boy club. secondly: mysterious as the dark side of the moon.
Perhaps it is the Platonic Ideal of Chicken Tenders. They are perfect, but cannot exist, for to do so in an imperfect world would mar their perfection, rendering them no longer an incorruptible ideal. His interruption of the recipe was required in order to preserve their mystery and maintain their fixity outside the realm of existence. Those chicken tenders will always remain in our minds an untasted illusion far better then the mundane counterparts of actuality.
@LyingRebel
ew.
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1449: the most feminine sphinx statues belong the art style called Mannerism.
Cold: Huh. Saturday: he realizes it’s playing out exactly like last week. Sunday, the same. Monday, back to work, but it’s all the same. Tuesday, he tests the limits. By Wednesday, he’s flouting all the rules. On Friday, his antics get him fired, but he meets the love of his life. Reset!
Ok, ignoring all the logical problems, it’s a decent movie. Hold on while I call my copyright attorney.
Bern: I’m not so sure. Chicken tenders are, when you get down to it, dead chickens. Wouldn’t an eldritch horror be interested in the tastiest way to consume death?
Secondly, regarding point 1406, chocolate, like the oyster, is regarded as an aphrodisiac. Add that boost in virility to your case!
Reb: Might we not say that the perfect chicken tender must, by definition, be available to taste? The Platonic ideal of a tender is merely a form, a “blueprint,” if you will. A tender untasted can never be perfect, just as a sunset unseen can never be beautiful.
@isto
I mean there are dead chickens, lavender tea, expended .22 LR cartridges shot in a public location you didn’t pay to enter, and genetic material from the Sanders family in the recipe, but when they are done, they are living, thinking(, though not breathing) beings. I can see why an eldritch horror would want to consume them, but neither you nor @LyingRebel is an eldritch horror. right?
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1451: there are Mannerist sphinxes in The Vatican. boy club the fifth.
Granted it is well argued that existence is a requirement of perfection, I still contend that the time and place it occupies must also be perfect, and that my own experiential reality is not so. Leastways I should not like to postulate that I am perfectly myself existent in the best of all possible worlds, rather I should prefer to think myself insufficiently real as of yet to enter into that exalted (perhaps heavenly) state wherein exists The Perfect Chicken Tender.
And that brings me to the second point of contemplating the horror of my own being…
Eldritch Horrorism seems to be a matter of perspective, I expect there may exist at the far extremis of the Universe entities whom would find beings such as myself outlandish and repugnant, being as I am a biologically evolved organic construct that utilizes internal entropic chemical fulmination to “live and grow” in my meager and accursed way.
But to be fair, an entity that would consider myself to be an Eldritch Horror may have very different criteria for judging what would constitute The Perfect Chicken Tender, or even a Pretty Gosh Darn Good Chicken Tender that approximates it’s likeness in my unfathomable realm of havoc.
deposit