Best Ever Albums

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

benpaco — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 20:14:49 GMT

Author: benpaco

Posted: 08/07/2014 00:14

SuedeSwede wrote:

I wish I could be an octopus

You meet Rachel Goswell. Being an octopus, you rip off your your Hectocotylus and hand it to her. She looks at you confused, and you signal that she's supposed to stick it in her neck until she's ready to eat it and give birth to your babies. She slaps you with the penis-arm, not realizing basic octopus manners. You wither away and die, being of a species that cannot regenerate after attempting to mate.

I wish I could write, record, and release and album as incredible as Midnight Organ Fight, but rather than being meant to transport people to a Scottish pub, to transport people to my childhood town.

EDIT: No takers? If it helps, my childhood town is Monterey, California home of the aquarium.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

SuedeSwede — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 20:00:51 GMT

Author: SuedeSwede

Posted: 08/07/2014 00:00

Antonio-Pedro wrote:

I wish I could read minds

It all starts off real swell. You have the power to control when you read minds. You read the mind of the girl you like, and she likes you too. You ask her to a school dance. She accepts. 6 months pass and you two are pretty serious. You think this power is the best thing that ever happened to you. Until you decide one night stupidly to read her mind. You find out she's pregnant, but you know that you've never done that dirty deed. You storm out the house shouting "my woman don't own me, I own my woman!" and turn into an independent black man against male sexism.

You start walking around the street with banners saying "male sexism is bad" and stupid shit like that. And then Bikini Kill come up to you and kick you in the balls. It hurts a lot. You go to the doctor to get checked up. They check your balls and that. Modern technology says that your sperm was used to impregnate your girlfriend - you know that sorta modern technology that tells your deep dark secrets and that. Well that. And you're all "oh shit I did impregnate her". You think you've gone crazy. Then you remember all the grape juice infused nights where you had a little too much grape juice and forgot everything the morning after. You go to forgive your woman (who you no longer own) and you call her parents like "yo where's my hunny bunny laquisha" and they're like "who's this?" and you're like "antonio" and they be like "she killed herself 3 months ago because you left her for no reason."

Distressed at this news you never want to read anyone's minds again. But it becomes an addiction. In a month you learn everybody's secrets. Everything everybody in the world knows. You eat so much knowledge mayonnaise from people's brains that your brain explodes out of too much knowledge.

I wish I could be an octopus

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

Antonio-Pedro — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 18:16:34 GMT

Author: Antonio-Pedro

Posted: 08/06/2014 22:16

denmarkman wrote:

A surprisingly large number of these end in people going crazy and/or killing themselves 🤔

my poor creativity to end and createstories lies here.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

HazeyTwilight — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 18:16:03 GMT

Author: HazeyTwilight

Posted: 08/06/2014 22:16

denmarkman wrote:

A surprisingly large number of these end in people going crazy and/or killing themselves :-k

Maybe it's telling us something 😲

Post-Modern take on primitive human lifeforms expressed by 0.1% of BEA's population

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

denmarkman — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 18:11:32 GMT

Author: denmarkman

Posted: 08/06/2014 22:11

A surprisingly large number of these end in people going crazy and/or killing themselves 🤔

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

Antonio-Pedro — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 17:59:38 GMT

Author: Antonio-Pedro

Posted: 08/06/2014 21:59

HazeyTwilight wrote:

I wish I was more productive.

EDIT: TOO Late but whatever

You can't, you still asking to a lot of people for tips of how being more productive, all of them are almost the same old answers you had but then a unknown person, sells you a drink, the productiveness (lol) drink (I need to be more original). You once accept, but you don't listen to his warnings of how using it, and what danger would it bring if it was in the "wrong hands". One day you decide to use it, to be more productive at your work, your boss liked what you've done that day and then decided to promote you to a higher position in the company, you feel happy, and as days passes you're gaining positions in the company, people (that you made lose positions in the company because of your rising) begin to wonder how you got in that level, so they decide to make a hidden trip at your house, while you were working, just to investigate what was happening, they begin to investigate your bedroom while your dog was sleeping in the closet, when some of them break the glass on the floor (not knowing what it was but they told it had a bad smell) your dog suddenly wakes and then make they run out of your bedroom, he that never saw that green drink begins to drink the drink, the company workers run out of your house, and the effect in the dog was similar to an energizer. when you got home after a tiring day at work (that you needed to go to the supermarket to buy some meat) your dog, shocked with the drink effect forgets that you own him and forget all the things you've done to him, he breaks the collar that was keeping him next to the closet in your bedroom and then decides to look for food, ironically you were eating meat and almost falling asleep while watching tv, and with a lot of barbecue sauce spilling over you shoulder and face, the hungry and killer dog following his instincts decides, to attack the closet food to him and while you were chewing the meat he attacks your face, he is using the drink power that is still high in his intestine and brain, he decides to become a beast and eat it all with all the barbecue over it, you try to defend but the drink power is very low in you and in he is bigger, it eats your skin like a chewing gum, slowly, while you slowly dies, screaming a lot until he eats your mouth and eyes...and kills you.

I wish I could read minds

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

Anonymous — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 17:43:54 GMT

Author: Anonymous

Posted: 08/06/2014 21:43

HazeyTwilight wrote:

I wish I was more productive.

You finally acquired the trait of productivity, but then you were eaten by a tiger and thrown off to space! In space, you had no suit whatsoever, and you were burned up by the hazy twilight of the sun!

I wish that I had a username like sp4cetiger's.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

HazeyTwilight — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 17:22:29 GMT

Author: HazeyTwilight

Posted: 08/06/2014 21:22

CubaZed wrote:

I wish for Facebook to suddenly vanish without a trace.

World Peace. But that slowly drives you insane because what are we humans without judgement? Without irrelevance? Without the mere existence of expressing what you had for fucking lunch today? Suddenly, you feel nostalgia for the ways things once were like a senile man in denial. You place a gun to your forehead. You kill yourself. But no one cares about your suicide, because you didn't update your status explaining what you were doing with your cat this morning.

HazeyTwilight wrote:

I wish I was more productive.

I love how people were ignoring this. Are my wishes not worth corrupting? 😢

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

Anonymous — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 16:43:16 GMT

Author: Anonymous

Posted: 08/06/2014 20:43

Kiki wrote:

I wish had a better bed than the one I have now.

You end up getting this bed http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0385639/

I wish for Facebook to suddenly vanish without a trace.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

Anonymous — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 16:37:25 GMT

Author: Anonymous

Posted: 08/06/2014 20:37

benpaco wrote:

I wish Elliott Smith was still alive.

Somewhere down the line he goes all Frequency (2000) on you.

I wish had a better bed than the one I have now.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

benpaco — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 16:30:22 GMT

Author: benpaco

Posted: 08/06/2014 20:30

SuedeSwede wrote:

You were born too late into a world that doesn't care.

I wish to be Defago

You get your wish.

Suddenly, you are thrown into the air off of your bed. You are walking around with no control of your body. You slam into a wall and keep attempting to walk forwards, breaking every bone in your feet. You stop and begin typing onto the keyboard of the wall, chipping off all of your fingernails. You realize that you have no more control over any of your body, and that you must mirror exactly what Defago does. Your turn and scrape against your wall into a door on your broken feet and toes, now beginning to bleed. You sit down on an invisible chair and proceed to defecate all over the floor of your room. You stand up, look back, and admire your work, while your mind can do nothing more than silently scream and smell your new gift to the world. You open the door to your room, smearing feces all over the ground, and tumble down stairs Defago doesn't have. You stop suddenly and continue walking. This is your future. You will continue to follow him until you are lucky enough to be hit by a bus and bleed out, still trying to walk flat against the pavement.

I wish Elliott Smith was still alive.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

SuedeSwede — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 08:20:13 GMT

Author: SuedeSwede

Posted: 08/06/2014 12:20

camsh wrote:

I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair.

You were born too late into a world that doesn't care.

I wish to be Defago

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

camsh — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 07:48:13 GMT

Author: camsh

Posted: 08/06/2014 11:48

Happymeal wrote:

I wish I had a larger thumb.

Congratulations! Your thumb gradually grows until you get it to the size you want. But it keeps growing. You want it to stop. But it doesn't. Just keeps growing and growing. Eventually, it explodes in a cataclysm of blood and pus. You have no cleaning equipment in your house. You have to lick it all up. You're so scarred by the events that after the house is clean, you slit your own throat and die a horrible, painful death.

I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

Anonymous — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 05:01:43 GMT

Author: Anonymous

Posted: 08/06/2014 09:01

satiemaniac wrote:

I wish that I had the ability to spontaneously generate digital versions of rare and out of print albumsl that I would never otherwise be able to attain (everything from underground power electronics cassettes to All Lights Fucked to the new Wu-Tang).

You're only allowed to obtain an album after you've listened to kenny G's entire discography (the process is repeated for each new album)

I wish I had a larger thumb.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

Anonymous — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 04:41:37 GMT

Author: Anonymous

Posted: 08/06/2014 08:41

denmarkman wrote:

I wish I had a pony.

Your pony arrives just as ordered (or as he will be in this story, sorry if you have a preference for a different kind): a striking black stallion with incredible racing potential but a gentle, personable disposition. Noting his abilities, you leave the city and move to the rural midwest. You open up a farm and you breed this magnificent specimen, accruing wealth and fame as he takes home country fair ribbons, then medals, then trophies at the largest horse races in the country then the world. You're on top of the world, beaming with delight at his prowess. Over time, your horse (let's name him Sanjuro. why? because I have a weak spot for Kurosawa and a weaker imagination) becomes a thoroughly renowned individual on his own. You take a back seat to his celebrity for awhile, but eventually, the fact that all his success came at the cost of your own sacrifices (who wants to live in the rural midwest? there's a reason they call the melodic sad stuff Midwest emo) drives you into a spiralling depression that undoes you completely. You die by your own hand, alone and forgotten, a footnote in the story of an era-defining horse.

But the story doesn't end there for Sanjuro, oh no. Sanjuro has two children in particular whom he begins to raise himself. The big head he's gotten over his success has turned into full-on agency over his own life, especially with his master out of the way. Sanjuro's children, Ivan and Bartholomew, are reared on your old farm, which now belongs to Sanjuro, since he honestly paid the bills more than you ever did, being a mere access point for him. He teaches them to race, as well. Dressage on the side for courting those of fatter wallets, but mainly racing. These horses might even be better than Sanjuro, as horses follow Saiyan logic, and half-great race horses are superior to thoroughbreds cause that made sense for Toriyama, so it has to for me.

I digress. Ivan and Bartholomew run from their first days being poured from their mother horse in graphic, non-human mammalian labor - the most shocking experience for city folk imaginable. Seriously, have you seen a calf come out of a cow? Shit's horrifying. All blood and placenta and it's like really clean and the cow doesn't seem to be pregnant to the untrained eye then BAM there's another life shooting out its birth canal and much vomiting to be had by YouTube users too naive to know they're better off watching 2girls1cup over their Sunday brunch than approaching that shit. So yeah, they're racing and all, getting endorsements (you know, Dinoco and what not) and getting to be as distinguished as Sanjuro. Ivan inherits the farm when Sanjuro dies, somewhat to Bartholomew's chagrin, but them being traditional types, they understand the importance of being the firstborn (well, the first to be born after Sanjuro's maturity into autonomy - the others were simple commodities produced with his essence). Ivan converts the farm into its own race track and has plans to create a major racing empire that comes to him, as his family's days of travel must end. He has big ambitions, and he decides that his best competitor will probably be his darling brother, so he decides to open the race track to much hype, crafting an exhibition ticket against Bartholomew. Thinking it a casual event, he invites Bartholomew over for a night of heavy drinking, bitches in jacuzzis, there's even a little DMT 'cause why not, right?

But Ivan never sees it coming - Bartholomew, feeling a need to prove his father and tradition wrong, seeks a coup, and absolutely decimates Ivan in a race. It's humiliating, and all for lack of Ivan's preparation. See, Bartholomew had this plan all along - that DMT he smoked? Never inhaled. The alcohol? Water! Bartholomew and Ivan's race becomes the fodder of magazines from Time to People, and everyone demands to know: what happened, Ivan? But these questions don't preoccupy the brothers. The question that surfaces to them is who gets the farm now that the investors see a scandal in the works. The farm is handed over in strict, highly formalistic legal proceedings to Bartholomew, clearly the deserved owner by any exterior party. He is elated, and Ivan is defeated.

Ivan spirals into a deep depression himself. With no home, no racetrack, and all his ambitions belonging now to his younger brother, he makes his way to Tucson to go back to school and try to make a life for himself in another field. The plight of the Native Americans (or American Indians, take your pick - it's honestly super complicated and there's a lot of historical backing for both semantic decisions, and fuck if I'm gonna make the call as a white guy, ya feel?) piques a particular interest in the young buck's mind, and so he sets to work in anthropology, but when he realizes that a simple term paper is impossible with hooves smashing against a laptop keyboard, he becomes more disenfranchised with existence and takes to roaming the streets.

Meanwhile, Bartholomew is busy at work, getting endorsements left and right, doing special races against cars at the Daytona 500 and Indy 500 (seriously, a simple drug test would probably end this massive ascent, but it's a huge crowd pleaser to watch the spirit of the American west overtake the industrial behemoths that the American public is becoming more and more skeptical towards in this age of global climate change and hiking gas prices). He's got all the girl horses giggling whenever he comes around and tours the country relentlessly. One day, near the twilight days of his racing career, he gets a call from the old U of A - "Come work for us and train horses," they say. He gladly accepts.

In Tucson, Bartholomew comes across Ivan one day, sitting lonely and dejected, gaunt as hell, in a small cardboard box (well, not too small - it has to fit him inside). Bartholomew laughs at him, as he recognizes him instantly as an old washed up loser. Ivan is indignant and challenges Bartholomew to a street race. Bartholomew agrees. They get their hooves behind an agreeable starting point and almost tear into the pavement right then and there, but they realize they need a referee. They call over the nearest person to officiate the proceedings. And this person says a sentence that reverberates through time and space, across all cultures and creeds:

"Whoa, a talking horse?"

I wish that I had the ability to spontaneously generate digital versions of rare and out of print albumsl that I would never otherwise be able to attain (everything from underground power electronics cassettes to All Lights Fucked to the new Wu-Tang).

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

denmarkman — Wed, 6 Aug 2014 02:14:30 GMT

Author: denmarkman

Posted: 08/06/2014 06:14

nutso42 wrote:

Getting back on track...

I wish I could eat and drink whatever I wanted without getting sick.

Initially, everything is great. But then one day, you realize that drugs no longer have any effect on you. This makes pretty good sense to you, as your body views drugs as toxins and it has been granted the ability to instantly eradicate them from your system, as with diseases.

At first, this is fine. After all, there are plenty of people who never do drugs, and what with you never getting sick, you never need silly things like Ibuprofen or Tylenol. “This’ll be great!” you say to yourself.

But then, things start to change. The first thing you notice is the alcohol. Being a popular fellow, you are no stranger to downing a pint and getting kicked out of Applebee’s with your friends, but those days are behind you. “Are you ready for your check?” the Applebee’s waiter asks, completely oblivious to the sinister undertones of the words he speaks. You stare back at him, dumbfounded, fumbling for your wallet, your friends around you drinking and laughing and chatting amongst themselves, but saying what? Something about “He’s talking to you, nutso,” or “Yes, we’d like the check, please,” but it’s nothing more than a faint drone in the distance.

Soon, you stop going out entirely. For a while, your friends visit you, but after enough sober Modern Family marathons, abstinent Apples to Apples game nights, and self-possessed Michael Jackson-centric dance parties, your friends, one by one, stop showing up.

And that’s when the nightmares start.

Your psyche, never to so much as glimpse the transfiguring power of LSD, Salvia, Psilocybin, DMT, DPT, DXM, DPH, DMH, Ayahuasca, Ketamine, PCP, Datura, Mescaline, the 2Cs, the NBOMes, etc., deprived of all sensory variation and doomed to an eternity trapped inside of a monotonous, singular state of consciousness, grows desperate and lusts for an escape, taking refuge in the only place it can: your dreamscape.

Every nightmare starts the same. It begins at a carnival, on a gargantuan merry-go-round. Also on the merry-go-round are hundreds of people that you have known throughout your life. Some close friends, some ex-lovers, some merely long-forgotten strangers. Some ride upon lions, some upon tigers. You? You ride upon an albatross. You try desperately to get someone’s attention, but they cannot see you. They merely sit, smiling, transfixed on a singular point in space. And then you wake up.

At least, that’s when you wake up the first time.

The nightmare begins to evolve, each one adding on to the last. The merry-go-round riders begin singing in unison. The merry-go-round soundtrack begins to come into focus. The animals begin to metamorphose into quasi-Lovecraftian horrors. Your fellow riders cackle hysterically as they are gruesomely eviscerated by these netherworld abominations. Their corpses shift to focus their gaze directly on you, their faces motionless, frozen in time. You watch their cold, dead, unchanging eyes, fixed on you for eternity. Only their mouths move, their dry, cracked lips perpetuating the horrific sound of children’s laughter into the ever-growing infinite abyss that stretches before you. The horrors begin to transfigure back into seats on the merry-go-round, but instead of the innocent animals you knew them to be, they have become a collection of grotesque faces born in the nightmares of disturbed young children, every one of them fixated on you. They remain motionless. Watching. Waiting. The carnival music begins to morph into a loop of the segment from 3:20 to 9:30 of Neutral Milk Hotel’s “Pree-Sisters Swallowing a Donkey’s Eye”. The ride begins to slow down but never stops. In your periphery, the carnival around you begins to disappear, being replaced by demonic entities you know are there but which, when you turn to look, quickly dash out of sight, forever hiding just behind that line which differentiates the seen from the unseen.

However, the nightmares do not satiate your psyche's lust for the unknown. You embrace the horror that has become you, sitting alone every night in your dark closet watching deeply disturbing and unsettling videos, slowly devolving into a mere husk, your entire being having transformed into an endless psychological terror.

And your meds don’t work.

Nothing does.

I wish I had a pony.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

Anonymous — Sat, 2 Aug 2014 08:28:51 GMT

Author: Anonymous

Posted: 08/02/2014 12:28

Getting back on track...

I wish I could eat and drink whatever I wanted without getting sick.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

mickilennial — Fri, 1 Aug 2014 19:32:55 GMT

Author: mickilennial

Posted: 08/01/2014 23:32

Defago wrote:

BEA starts talking about MCR's tour and everyone thinks they're emo. Gowie goes rabid, into a BEA members murdering spree. He slits people's throats and writes "It's Not Emo" with their blood. It takes him some time, but in the end he gets everyone who's ever posted anything on the site, except you. One night, you hear a door creak open downstairs.

I wish I had a clone.

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

Anonymous — Fri, 1 Aug 2014 19:30:59 GMT

Author: Anonymous

Posted: 08/01/2014 23:30

sp4cetiger wrote:

/thread

Re: Corrupt a Wish Foundation

Anonymous — Fri, 1 Aug 2014 18:59:20 GMT

Author: Anonymous

Posted: 08/01/2014 22:59

nutso42 wrote:

The clone turns out to be exactly like you.

/thread