The "I Didn't Comment in Another Thread" Thread

[Bolares]

Wait?!

What arch!

 

[darjr]

Not all of us can be good at this posting thing.

 

[Bolares]

Not all of us can be good at this posting thing.

Well... at least you try

 

[darjr]

Well... at least you try

Thank you Yolares.

 

[Bolares]

Thank you Yolares.

You're spending too much time on twitter...

 

[payn]

To die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine.

 

[Snarf Zagyg]

To die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine.

#notjoking

 

[darjr]

And I say they are the same!
They. Are. The. Same.

And I’m not going back to fix it anyway.

It’s all the same letters in the correct amount and if it’s good enough for me it’s good enough fer y’all.

 

[Eltab]

Dearly beloved
We are gathered here today
To get through this thing called "D&D"
Electric game, D&D
You can play it forever and that's a mighty long time
But I'm here to tell you there's something else...

This meta-thread

A thread of never-ending happiness
You can always talk about pizza, day or night

So when you need to talk about that New Zealand pizza topping you just ate
You know the one, the pasta straight from a can
Instead of writing about subclasses gained on first level
Write about the toppings on your mind, Cadence
'Cause in the other threads
Things are much harder than in the meta-thread
In the other threads
You're on your own

And if the other commenters try to bring you down
Go crazy (write about pizza)
Whoo

You don't actually hate bards, you are just trying to drive off the competition.

Search your feelings, you know this to be true.

 

[Cadence]

A matching service find for Snarf?
(aka The Genius of the Vague, by Don Marquis)

SHE came at twilight yestere'en,
With eyes profound and sad,
And murmured, "You must choose between
The Shadow and the Shad!"

"What mean you, cryptic visitor,
Who come to me uncalled?"
She answered, "Ned and Isidor
And Thomas, too are bald!"

"I know they are," I said, "but why
Should that so sadden you?"
She wiped a wan and wistful eye
And smelled a sprig of rue.

"Oh, sounds," she said, "oh, sounds and scents!
And, oh! forgotten years"—
Beneath her shrouding filaments
She shed, I think, some tears.

"But what are you," I asked of her,
"Who waver through the gloom
As cheerful as a sepulcher,
As genial as a tomb?"

"I am," she said, "the friend of Potes;
And sometimes I'm the plague
Who gets their gay, Parnassian goats:
The Genius of the Vague!

"Vers libre, or straight old-fashioned rime,
Ode, sonnet, song, ballade,
I've saved from failure many a time
With nonsense quaint and odd;

"When feeling fails, or thought or trope,
When meaning peaks and pines,
Do not, therefore, abandon hope,
But pull some mystic lines—

"Oh, seas and shores," she said, "and dreams,
Echo and Afterwhile!
And souls and sorrows, gulls and gleams!"—
She smiled a pensive smile—

"Oh, you must choose between," she said,
"The Filbert and the Fly!"—
I looked, and she had vanishèd;
She left behind a Sigh.