Talk about whatever you want to here, but stay correct

Which do you fear more: A bomb that looks like a tiger or a tiger that looks like a bomb?

2
33%
2
33%
1
17%
1
17%
#161969 by Nosifer
Wed Nov 28, 2007 3:19 am
Musician's section?

Fuck it. Hey, this is a "give my tunes feedback" thread. The project is called Pipkinn. Kris Wilson, of Cyanide and Happiness webcomics, and I are the force. I describe it a bit like the "Punky Bruster" album. We do it quick. I rarely do more than a few takes. It's satirical pop music with distasteful subject matters.

So, if you like dick jokes, check it out: http://www.myspace.com/pipkinnmusic

I just wanted to see how other DT fans would react. I apologize for the vocal styles, it hurts emotionally, I promise. We do serious prog metal, but that takes more time to release.

And for five minutes of my drunken metal masterpiece, check: http://www.myspace.com/goddamnrevolt

Retard Boners are Metal.

#162010 by Nosifer
Wed Nov 28, 2007 2:52 pm
Eh well, not for everyone... or anyone.

Back to the Poll. I see someone disagrees with me, as I chose the second.

#1 - Bomb disguised as a Tiger: I can see the fear in that. You stumble upon a, seemingly, dead or injured animal in the middle of a dirt road and think, "When am I ever going to have the opportunity to poke a dead tiger with a stick? Once in a lifetime!" The next thing you know, your dad's new Hummer H3 is splattered with the remains of his child and a dead animal.

On the other hand, if you don't die, when someone asks why half of you face is missing, you can tell the story of the survival of an exploding tiger. Chicks dig that.

#2 - Tiger disguised as a Bomb: My fear. You come across a bomb and figure, "That could probably hurt someone. If I can take apart a computer, I can defuse a bomb." So you approach it and start snipping random wires and suddenly your face is ripped away from your eyes and you insides are ten feet away in the dirt.

Or, say your dying son's last wish is to see a real-no-shit explosive device. So you wheel him out to your hermit Uncle Rex's wood-shed to show him the real deal. It's the best day of the boy's life until he's torn away from his wheelchair by a bloodthirsty , starved, predator. Now, five months to live drops to zero. Shit.

I don't know. You decide.

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