"Interleavings" are a style of post I started doing on talk.bizarre a few years ago, in which you follow up someone else's post by inserting a line in between each of their original lines, which still maintains the sentence flow, but completely changes the meaning or intent of the original. A few other talk.bizarre folks have gotten very good at the practice, too. The format has since spread to other newsgroups, where it is often used as a way to mock people who need to be flamed.
I wish I could find more of these that I've done. They're a lot of fun.
Luke Brown <****@visio.com> wrote: >i LIKE THE FEELING THAT YOU GET WHEN YOU SMOKE IT AND THEN YOU WALK AROUND killing people because they are full of demons, and you'll never be done >WITH ALL THESE PEOPLE AND THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH FUN THAT YOU ARE or how much power you have so you strike them and laugh at the pain they are >HAVING I THINK THAT IT IS GREAT THAT IN THIS GREAT COUNTRY THAT YOU CAN SMOKE the devil's brew and ride the black serpent across the world-tree and its >WEED AND NOT GET IN TROUBLE AT SCHOOL I GO TO CCHS IN GILLETTE, WY AND ALL THE people with any brains at all look at me with contempt. >WHOLE SCHOOL DOES IS SMOKE WERE JUST A BUNCH OF POT HEADS. I would never have guessed. You do a fine job of hiding it.
Mark. Gooley <******@netcom.com> wrote: > I want a house. I want a big house, or at least one with a big reputation for ghoulish and ghastly death. The bodies will be stored in a >room that I can use as a library. I want to put in a hardwood floor with my fourteen clones. And then they, too, shall die, their bodies laid between >alternating stripes of dark and light wood. I want to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of nerve gas, and build a sacrificial altar made entirely >of wood-pellet stoves and gas furnaces and oil furnaces (I want to live in perpetual fear of The Dark Lord, whose presence roams and invades and owns >the mountains). I want swamp coolers for the rare times when it's really necessary to keep a few spare organs. And I think an iron lung would be >hot. I want a big generator for emergencies. I want a 4x4 pickup truck for running down orphans and I want a whole shitload of assault rifles >(gun rack optional). I want to learn to drive vehicles that have standard bearers who run alongside, and gun ports with ray guns that kill using radio >transmissions instead of automatics. I want halogen tubes mounted high on a pike, next to the heads of my slaves and children, their eyes shining from >the walls to provide bright indirect light -- preferably those big 1500-watt arcing Jacobs-Ladder-type things-- BZZZT BZZZT BZZT-- yeah, you know the >ones. I want skylights. I want big glass blocks. I want tiles. I want incinerators. I want cries of anguish and pain, echoing from the blood- >red sandstone. Yeah, I know, you'd never guess it, looking at me, huh? > Maybe a big log house would do -- or are they all plagued with stucco and wallpaper and other suburban nightmares? Can I never escape my >countless troubles? > >Mark., plenty of stomping room for the cat, too I want a cat that thinks it's a house.
William Jensen <********@pentasoft.com> wrote: >As you read this, people all over the world are toiling in hideous golf outfits, riding underpowered golf carts, utterly unfamiliar with >poverty. They produce the clothes we wear, the food we eat, the raw fish your people call 'sushi'. They should really be melted down as >materials for our cars, and our homes and our computers. We thank God every night that the Reptoids are on their way, and we'll oppose >them by ignoring them. We consider a five-dollar-an-hour job to be more than enough wage for our military commanders. They find money >demeaning. To these people, five dollars per day is a luxury. We live so that others will die. But we've never heard of death, or poverty, in >our lives, in our rich western world built on the blood and sweat of a million intestinal tapeworms. Yet we find ourselves idolizing them, >these slaves to our culture. We live in a world of freedom and violence, and it's all on video! You must act now to take advantage of this >opportunity while they spend their years toiling for us. We spend our dough on CDs, airplane tickets, drugs, nudie magazines-- but not enough >time thinking of important things like where we want to go for dinner or who we're going to eat when we get there, and what kind of sex we'll have on >the new couch we want to buy. They hope they can make enough to eat a horse, by cracky! Man, I'm feeling dizzy. I really guess I should have a >meal sometime this week. Luckily we can ignore them, lock them in their time capsules and send them into the future! Forget about them and their >poverty, build homes and freeways on top of them, bury the slaver's hatchet and have unending peace and love and freedom and happiness and cool >whip.
Sean T Barrett <*******@world.std.com> wrote: >ioannis galidakis <****@ath.forthnet.gr> wrote: >>Don't worry about it Andrea. Me and S(h)[e]an had a long time ago flame > we carried for each other. Then we were conscripted in the civil service, easy money if ever there was, but it all fell apart in the >>war so he took a shot at me, but i have forgiven him. He can be very > sensitive when he kisses, and that makes up for it. This is pretty good most of the time, but sometimes his lips fall off. That's fucking >>annoying you know, changing the meaning of what everybody writes by > kissing you so nothing you'd said feels right, his lips against yours are dry and leathery, and he uses that blood-tentacle to invade your brain, >>interjecting his own sentences. He confuses me to the extent where i > give in to lust, give up to lust, heaven knows we'll soon be dust. My ma is dust now; I had her ground up when the coughing started and now I >>cannot recognize my own writtings. As if my paranoia is not enough, > my cornucopia has run out. Once I wrote a short story about how important organic ink is, but I wrote it in pencil. CNN just reported that >>Sean's interjections carry messages from god that are very important for > communicating with aliens. We talk to our toaster creature often, and also our blender creature and our microwave creature. They are all concerned for >>our well being. But then again, this holds true for all of t.b. Now, > maybe most of t.b even has an anvil alien, but I move mine around; it's portable. I grafted two hundred pounds of fat on you last night-- >>lets see if you can carry the weight. I assign you omniscient leader of > scientology guard duty; you must protect him from everything found on the pages of _Dianetics_. A big job for a big man, to watch over >>this creation. I carried the assignment for two weeks and cannot > in good conscience promise you it's particularly safe. I guess it's not of consequence, though, since it will all blow up and never regenerate >>anymore. May the corpse be with you.