Master Engineer

About me:

Hello, I'm the most arrogant Bodhisattva you have ever met, and ever will if the semi-existant Gods of the New American Order are kind to you. Remember to pay your credit card bills on time, enlightenment isn't cheap.

And I'm broke. Maybe that fat, spandex wearing Walmart-bag toting piece of rotting fecal matter driving that minivan will be interested in your Yoga Lotus. Maybe.

>:3

That is the face of the New Aeon.

PETA should put humanity on it's watch list, cuz we're coming strong - like Lindsey Lohan hyperorgasming on E, PCP, and Uber-Alles. But this isn't about we, it's about me. ME. The Millenium.

Mama Babalon birthed the Beast and then fucked It. Good Heavens, just look at the time. Somewhere in the vaginal drip that resulted from the cosmic withdrawal, the shred of possibility that became me formed itself into a LionBirdFishThing with a laugh track and smashed through the wall of Consensual Reality with napalm, vicodin, a megaphone and a pair of gangsta glasses stolen from a not-yet formed fetus-spirit that would eventually birth itself as Lil Wayne's music career.

Then God lol'd, and saw that it was good, and commanded Me to Win in all of the funniest ways. I saw that this was good, and decided not to banish God with an LBRP just yet, for God gave to me many a playthings.

A few zit-popping, prepubescent ex-girlfriends later, I woke up around October 11th, 2008 with a massive fucking hangover, an empty bottle of percs and a Werewolf gnawing at my head screaming for me to Get In the Fucking Car Its a Lion Coffee Time Fucktard.

And so here we are, with 1371 days remaining until the World Ends, and I'm HORNY. God. Damn. It.

Oh, be my friend. You should. Seriously, I love people. 1/100 are eventually culled and turned into the Sex. The others are great for burning calories. Really though, inspirational people will find me very easy to get along with. Bipolar retards need not apply.

On to more serious subject matters - see about applying for our Outer ORDER. You can be in our official Napalm Cat Brigade fan club and get a nifty hat with a strange little, 8-armed star thingy on it. Look great at church picnics. Ahaha...
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Oh.

AND ASK ME.

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Ask me about all those crazy stories you heard, about the Mischief, and then the Magick. Yeah, I got ya. Psychopomp Rivet-Mage on AstralCrack found dead under a pile of throbbing, bleeding 16-year old girls in sex comas. Page 333. >;3 >:3 >;3

Jesus Christ It's CHORONZON Get in the Fucking Car.

I Love You All
..The Intolerable Mr. Ibis..

The Magician

Love is the law, love under will.

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You Scored as Industrial/Rivet-Head You're a rivet-head. You like industrial music, warehouses, and you are a minion of the machines. Click on my name to take my other tests if you liked this one. Industrial/Rivet-Head 88% Old-school Goth 83% Romantic Goth 71% Anything-Goes Goth 67% Fantasy Goth 63% Death Rocker 63% Ethereal Goth 58% Cyber-goth 54% Perky Goff 50% Understanding Outsider 13% Confused Outsider 13%

Your EQ is 153

50 or less: Thanks for answering honestly. Now get yourself a shrink, quick! 51-70: When it comes to understanding human emotions, you'd have better luck understanding Chinese. 71-90: You've got more emotional intelligence than the average frat boy. Barely. 91-110: You're average. It's easy to predict how you'll react to things. But anyone could have guessed that. 111-130: You usually have it going on emotionally, but roadblocks tend to land you on your butt. 131-150: You are remarkable when it comes to relating with others. Only the biggest losers get under your skin. 150+: Two possibilities - you've either out "Dr. Phil-ed" Dr. Phil... or you're a dirty liar.

What's Your EQ (Emotional Intelligence Quotient)?

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