These days I would be happy to get a bag of (char)coal

char·la·tan

noun

a person falsely claiming to have a special knowledge or skill; a fraud.
"a self-confessed con artist and charlatan"
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https://www.upworthy.com/before-he-died-carl-sagan-warned-that-america-could-be-taken-advantage-of-by-a-charlatan-political-leader

newt just contributed:

Extra Word Count Statistics
Syllables 535
Sentences 17
Unique Words 202 (64%)
Average Word Length (char) 4.9
Average Sentence Length (word) 18.5
Monosyllabic Words (1 syllable) 170
Polysyllabic Words (≥3 syllables) 53
Syllables per word 1.7
Paragraphs 6
Difficult Words Readability level 91 (29%)


And all you can say is "thanks" with a lowercase "t" which is an insult to the "!"

Delete the style part of the embed code, and the percentage chars while you're at it. Seems to be working, for the most part.

<iframe src="https://streamable.com/s/8iun2/fayfyi" frameborder="0" width="485" height="388" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe>

That scene cracks me up every time.

@MilkmanDan nah, those are awesome. My favourites are the insane 99 bottles competitions:

#include <stdio.h>
main(){_=100;while(--_)printf("%i bottle%s of beer in the wall,\n%i bottle%"
"s of beer.\nTake one down, pass it round,\n%s%s\n\n",_,_-1?"s":"",_,_-1?"s"
:"",_-1?(char[]){(_-1)/10?(_-1)/10+48:(_-1)%10+48,(_-1)/10?(_-1)%10+48:2+30,
(_-1)/10?32:0,0}:"",_-1?"bottles of beer in the wall":"No more beers");}

I guess you wouldn't be amused by "one liner" programs like this one:

main(int c,char**v){return!m(v[1],v[2]);}m(char*s,char*t){return*t-42?*s?63==*t|*s==*t&&m(s+1,t+1):!*t:m(s,t+1)||*s&&m(s+1,t);}



(no way in hell I could figure out what that is doing without the description on Wikipedia, and even then...)

Godsmack is how the wind feels
On the face of Mike Winfield
On his way home from the bar where he works
Nights - the worst nights, don't nobody tip right
And between the marriage offers and the fist fights
And if another mother fucker touch his wrist trying to pull him in to whisper
He ain't making it to midnight
Don't they know he got a lighter in his pocket
A matchbook in his sock and a block full of charred skeletons closeted begging to get out
He paused cause he's scared of airing out the thoughts
He can taste it in his mouth the sulfur and bitter carbon
Hearing all the burning bodies shout but no
That was a full lifetime ago and nobody ever has to know
He has never told well except Ronald
But that don't count he was sweet and exactly what he needed him to be at the time
Wine and candlelight and nice texts at lunchtime
Why had he not called Ron back
Guess there just wasn't a spark, ha!
No, no, musn't joke about these things
Wouldn't want to disappoint Doc Clark
So many hours on the couch
So many buried memories that take so many tears to get them out
Water hadn't never been a friend
Hold up - where had he seen that car before
Blue Acura dent on the left rear fender
Back again the sense of
Deja Vu
Strange things you
Never shake when you wake up in recovery
But suddenly noticing ash is covering his head cause it's raining from the sky
Dials home on his cell phone and gets no reply
What the fuck?
Where is the babysitter that he overpays
Body takes over and brain becomes disengaged
Michael is running his house is three blocks away
Adrenaline compensating for change in age
Since the last time that he ran it god dammit
Mike knows he gotta get home fast as he can
Looks up in the sky, glow's familiar
Knows those families died with similar
Awnings and on and on he keeps going
Hits the corner just as he hears the explosion
Screams come from the house, "Did you get them out?"
Mike asking the crowd that has gathered 'round
Tears running down his face
There's that familiar taste
He wishes it would take him to another place
Son and his baby girl in his home and he can't believe that it's gone in a cloud of smoke
And he's choking and running forward and hoping against hope that he might find them alive and well
When he knows the results too well and he knows that fooled himself
And he keeps walking towards the house rather what house is still left
No intention of stopping letting the smoke take his breath
Some strong arm rocks him aside Mike falls to the ground and cries
Why won't you just let me die
Why won't you just let me die

That's pretty sick *promote

There's no training in the world that can help you when you're walking over a floor of charred corpses, or picking up the bits and pieces left over after a plane crash. How a fireman can believe in a just and loving god after seeing some of that shit is beyond me.

Whoa about the Anchorage/Chilkoot Charlies comments !

The powdered charred remains of old boy bands.

Dammit, Char. These are not the Newtypes you're looking for!

Iggy Azalea - Fancy ft. Charli XCX has been added as a related post - related requested by Krupo on that post.

Ok-Does not fit the conventional MO of dancing dude, or he's got the cover-but his wifes' a, HELLO?? Exotic dancer (or formerly)!??
Exotic dancer=/=costume designer??

You miss Lann, simply have a problem with convenient stereotypes relative to appearances and have never entertained the veracity of the adage, "If it looks and quacks like a duck", riding a personal grudge against me tinctured with an incapacity or unwillingness to kill your own ego.

I could give a damn about the guy's sexuality, he tears up the "stripper pole" with aplomb, and his exotic dancer wife makes stellar costumes. What's yer beef if not well-done-to-charred?

For someone who has admitted to being too much of a pansy to kill his own supper, you exhibit an enormous understanding of what goes through the head of someone that enjoys such a hobby.

I've got a story for you. When I was a child, I lived in a rural community full of hunters. Not my family. My parents taught me to love and respect animals. We had a couple of dogs I loved dearly. If stray cats showed up at our door, we fed them and gave them attention. If an animal was injured, we nursed it back to health. In school there were a small group of boys who came from a family of hunters. They were taught to hunt from a very young age and animals had no value to them, other than to be enjoyed as a meal. They would torture animals for the fun of it...throw rocks at the birds and squirrels to score points, stomp on them to finish them off and then skin them so they would have their trophies. They would pull the legs off live frogs. Pour gasoline on defenseless little animals and light them on fire. They got off on making animals squeal and would brag about it to whoever would listen. They also bullied kids at school. They didn't feel any empathy and got a rush from inflicting pain and making children cry and scream. One day I was walking home from school and saw the boys with a gas can. They had cornered a feral cat that I had been feeding and were about to light it on fire. I intervened which led to a violent confrontation and thankfully the cat got away. I hollered for a neighbor to help which scared them off but I still ended up being beaten quite badly. When I got home, one of my dogs was missing. We couldn't find him for days. I later found his charred remains in the adjoining forest to my property.

In case anyone was wondering, my user name "carnivorous" is a long standing pet name given to me by my wife (don't ask). I am not a vegetarian, I eat well balanced meals and have a garden where we grow a lot of our own vegetables and my wife bakes bread and other baked goods on a regular basis. We do make an effort to eat less meat and find other sources of protein such as beans, eggs, nuts and cheese, but when we do eat meat we don't let any of it go to waste and appreciate the animals who lost their lives for our meal. As I stated previously in the thread, I am not opposed to hunting if an animal is killed humanely for the sole purpose of providing food and I would prefer that an animal had a glorious life in the wild, ending in a quick and painless death. The issue I have with shang is not about the hunting, but his enjoyment of the violence associated with hunting and what he is teaching his children about violence and aggression. My children have beautiful innocent little hearts and care about the feelings of people, animals and even insects and I am proud of how I've raised them.

Think me a bully if you will but I have always been the sort that stands up for what I believe in and I will not apologize for that.