If this thread reaches the post limit, I will reply to every post in this thread.

In another thread, obviously.

I'm gonna beat this Sforzato guy.

 

You can try but he's pretty good at mass replies.

 

5000 posts? I wish you the best of luck good sir :3 That post would probably murder the site >.<

 

I'm not going to be that member who says "I don't think this is going to actually happen"
because that's just a downer.

Good luck, and I believe in you. You can do it.

 

I'll be that member
but yet I'm contributing lolol

 

We have to make this happen, guys.

 

I remember this came up pretty much every week when I first joined...or something like that. I'm contributing, but I'm not betting on it finishing

 

Oh look it's this thread again.

 

Once upon a time, in the land of khv...

 

Members posted funny threads and posts.

then they stopped.

The end.

 

We need a sequel. It should be called, 'The flamboyant adventures of Risk'!

 

The awkward moment when everyone starts doing this and the site implodes.

 

VARY WELL.

Once upon a time in the airy fairy land of ******sville, a wild risk was pruning his oranges

 

I actually thought it was 50,000.

 

On the bottom of the ocean floor there lives a sponge.
He is a wide mouthed bowl with a bright green sheen.
His species – a narrow one – no known friends are to be seen.
Tasty bacteria he sucks right on in – filtering the ocean – now it’s clean.

By asexual and sexual means multiply he can
Swimming sperm cells released like smoke
Only fertilizing eggs but others to provoke.
Cut-up a sponge – it makes 2 – no joke.

Making glassy needles he himself defends.
Few dare to eat a not so squishy him.
The parrot fish though enjoys his rim.
But when you touch your outlook could be grim.

Don’t go too deep when you go and seek.
Sub-zero to tropics you’ll find him there;
Climate change to him is not a care.
Deep cleaning the ocean from his fair lair.

 

So are we trying to crash the site now

 

None of us understands our story better
than this nonentity, unconscious slip
of nature, nonetheless our common parent
dilating at the bottom of the sea.

The parent, too, of octopus and pony,
of reefs and villages, once it was strange
simply for being not a rock itself—
not rock, but a blank sleep on a rock shelf.

And, deeply sympathetic to the rock,
to sea and sea-dust washing through its skin,
it knows, although it doesn’t know it knows,
that minds and their milieux are all one thing.

Some see its way of thinking; most, not yet.
Still, one day, just by living, all will find
reason enough within themselves to think
the single thought forever in its mind.

Don't mind me, just dumping poems about sponges

 

Not since Jube flooded the forum.

 

Scientifically, the sponge
is an animal, branches higher than plants
on the gnarled tree of life,
and must capture its own food
rather than make lunch inside itself,
like carnations or yams,
and yet when, for your birthday,
I brought you a dozen sponges,
instead of the romantically-challenged roses,
and told you the bit about sponges
and also how we each build our own ideas
of what is and is not romantic,
you were not amused at all
and ran off with a husky florist,
for 6 days and 700 nights,
until he bored you twice to tears--
(his gloves and clippers scared you too)--
and spurning vegetation and good sense,
you returned to me,
and we bathed together
with the colorful sponges, and you said,
Animals sopping each other with other animals
is very romantic, more romantic than
decaying plant flesh, wouldn’t you agree?
And I did agree. I did.

 

Okay, questions for you, because IDK.

CATS. ARE. EVERYWHERE!?