Stratovarius Community

No hacking sound. They kvack! Butt they are evil!

They hack! Cutting with repeated irregular or unskilful blows to server your poor bakerbrain with their HACKS through your ears, eyes, nostrils and whatever opening they can find. They wish to damage your possibility to think.

And you have all reasons to be nervous! There are reports in "Times" about hundreds of those yellow birdmonsters in Mount Baker...Now!

PffT! It will take more than "irregular" and "unskilled" blows to topple this mighty baker. In fact, unless the blows are regular, skilled, swift, and resolute, I will be JUST fine. It will be like those Japanese massages.

PFFFFFF........

Just what they are! Resolute and regular, when it comes to mighty moss-muffinbakers, and I am sure, they will love your Bear-sin-moss-muffins, with raisins and lemon! So up and bake! You will be at the TOP. But maybe a little hacked !:oops: !

I am not afraid in the slightest of those paltry, awkward little buggers. Bring them on! I will dice them finely and bake them into muffins. Quackers, I shall call them.

Your fear mongering must end, my occasional-miserere-but-never-meretrix rhyme stealing friend!

Butt, butt! The truth is out there! In Mount Baker! I am only a messenger!


Edit!
I haven't STOLEN a single rhyme from you! I have BORROWED! Look in your poem-locker. They are all back there.

Stratowarius wrote:

Butt, butt! The truth is out there! In Mount Baker! I am only a messenger!


Edit!
I haven't STOLEN a single rhyme from you! I have BORROWED! Look in your poem-locker. They are all back there.

I am still missing a few! For example, every since your "borrowing" I have not been able to write a decent poem about peppers to save my life. I cannot, for the life of me, rhyme Jalapeño, Habanero, and Serrano. It has plunged me into a deep depression. An artist must express himself, you know...

I don't know who I am anymore,
I thought as I went to the grocery...shop,
I used to write poetry all day long,
Instead I'll have to sing a nice... tune,

Maybe I'll bake a muffin or two,
Till I figure out what i"m going to....spend my time on,
My rhymes were stolen, my poems are not well,
That Freckle, she can go to....heck!

Oh dear, oh dear, I am sooo sorry for you rhyme-loss and I am in a real hurry, but I will try to help you with your great poem. Hope it will DO!


I don't know who I am anymore,
When I so often creep on the floor,
I used to write poems all day long,
But now my songs no longer have fjong.(even plingplong can do here)

Maybe when I make those muffs, one or two,
I can figure out where I should go,
My rhymes were not stolen, they are very well,
And dear, dear Freckle, is worth a caramel.


Hope I could fetch the profound depth in your masterpiece.

You are very right as always. My songs are missing that special plingplong. Can you help me find my plingplong?

Seattle Times.


Maxi-Kinder-eggs cause fear at Seattle-custom.

by Gary Huhman.

The Federal Food and Druge-Act has prohibited import of Kinder-eggs in U. S. since they can be dangerous for small children.

A custominspector, Gary Tull, takes care of most eggs at our border to Canada and he is alarmed over the sudden inflow.

"Those Maxi-eggs have been an ongoing problem for years, but lately it has really increased", says Toll. "People try to smuggle them in their cars and when we find them, they (the cardrivers of course ) vehemently deny, that they are theirs. And they are not more reasonable and kind, when we fine them 300 bucks and confiscate the eggs."

"But now the eggs seem to roll over the border, by themselves, and out come yellow plasticducks. We have now more than 9000 in our store-room and some of the personnel refuse to go in there. They are afraid of the ducks, since a guy was hacked almost to pieces,last week. I know that it sounds koko, but I saw him. He was really hacked all over and is now in hospital. In a psychiatric ward!

Even I have heard hackings, from the rooms, and I have a scary feeling, that those ducks sometimes come alive".

But the yellow ducks are not only a custom-problem. They have been seen attacking people randomly, all over the town, and a resolute baker caught a bunch, ground them to duck-flour and baked Kvack-Muffins, with red onions.(345) I tasted them, and they were rather nomnomnom.

Governor Gary Sattel is worried. "I think I must call in the National Guard. Again! First we had the fur-bark-shit all over, and now it is bath-ducks. We must make a big duck-fire, to get rid of this pest. But I can't understand, why just our Emerald-City should be hit. Again! And I think it must have something to do with that damn Mount Baker and the exolotion there".

I'm not on the list...

Eine Kleine Stockhausen. can you hear me?

I pine for you...

Arnold Layne

Aber doch, Arnold! You ought to know better, than try to psyche me out, with that really "kleine" Eine Kleine! I have no regard for that shitty composer-dummkopf and those whining strings make me vomit. (sorry Neon) Strings, strings and not a single soprano-sax or even a little drum. HUH.

But, Arnold, you have to pine a while yet. Your latest performance makes me unsure, if I ever will take you under my wings again. I have also problems with your sister, Goal. Like that Tjolki-dude, the father of her Basket-son has disappeared and I hope Tom-o-seven, from Hamburg, will help me!

So Tom,the story is like this. Arnold Layne (The fat one in the avatar over my post) had a bump in his stomach, and that was his twin, Aber-aber. But, but, even Abbe had a bump-twin, their sister Goal, that I adopted.

Goal had the bad taste to fall in love with a Mulatto-Basket, Derrick Rose, but he disappeared and he wasn't even that Rose. No, he was a totally unknown no-basket-guy and we can't find him. At all! So dear Tom from Hamburg, not so far from Mödrath, what can we DO? What does the German law say in cases like this. Können Sie mir bitte helfen, Tom?

An angel told us namely, that this basket-boy will be the wolds basket-savior and he needs a father. We would prefer a mulatto that can play basket of course.

Eine Kleine Stockhausen!
Do not threaten me, Arnold. I wonder sometimes if your testosterone level is too high and I recommend that you be evaluated. Have your colon and semicolon checked as well and make sure you are examined for twins.

Re. Goal Stockhausen. She is my sweet but stupid sister (Sweet & Stupid Pork, nr 84). Why, oh why did she chase after that mullato thrower named Derrick Rose is beyond my simple Leeds mind's comprehension. HUH! Now he risks to get sued and no amount of pledging will get him throw that. jaja.

Aber-aber, who I love and care for deeply, is dead. I killed him and ate the remains. Of his lunch, of course. It is strange that you are not aware of that! I have no patience for mulattos, and mulatto sympathizers. Yuck. He was the latter. Plus there was the one time he stroked my butt on the Eurostar, but that's a story for another day.

I find nothing wrong with my avatar (the ladies of Leeds find my lunchbox rather fetching, actually) and, for your information, I have recently re-introduced leafy greens into my diet after a nearly 2 decade sabbatical.

Arnold Layne

Aber doch, Arnold. I am supposed to be the grumpy one in our relation and you the sunny, jovial, smiling post-delivery-boy. Butt you seem to have taken over the grumpy part. I would NEVER be threatening to you, Arnold! My boy, I love you in a German way.

I also wonder why you worry over my testosterone-status and I can tell you that the B-cells are a bit low, but it is not alarming. And there are no twins in my colon, dear boy, so the door is open.

I am moved over your interest, so I have decided that your pining-time is over, now Arnold! Come to Mödrath and I will take care of you, as before. Maybe you could help me with your weeping sister. She longs for that basket-mulatto, that wasn't a basket-mulatto at all! But a dull, wanna-be-mulatto-looser, that ran away, with his patetic tail among his legs, as soon as she got pregnant. Wasn't that, what that Tjollki also did? Is Tjollki perhaps a mulatto that claims he can play basket?

I haven't heard from Tom from Hamburg and he is maybe a German mulatto. Or is he that Tjollki, that seems to know how to avoid to pay child-support?

The Diary of Arnold Layne

August 9, 2012

Dear Diary,
Today, my flight arrived in Mödrath at 9 in the morning. "Eine Kleine, Stockhausen!" I cried with glee as he handed me a deluxe shawarma platter (extra tzaziki) and warmly shook my hand at the terminal. He also gifted me with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, which frankly I found a bit dry and chewy, but the effort was noted.

Note to self: I must ask for a new lunchbox

We spoke little on the drive to his estate, but occasionally made brief eye contact. I admit I farted several times in the car but surely he did not notice because I timed them to the beat of the music. I believe it was some 4'33 by a Mr. Cage.

Note to self: I must continue to develop this talent.

When we arrived at his estate, Karlheinz gave me a brand new pair of wool underwear and we made pleasant conversation. Apparently, the musician Tama Talkki...I was not aware he had a tail. Apparently it is one of those curly little ones, like on a pig. I was told that it can actually act as a very capable inductor.

Note to self: investigate the electrical properties of Tama Talkki's tail

After our chat, I began screaming and crying for lunch and after I ate my fill, it was time for bed. So now I must wear my polka-dot pajamas and count mutton. Goodnight diary...sweet and sour dreams!

Arnold Layne

Doch Arnold! I am so happy over, that you at last returned to me, your dear Gernman friend and I hope you will stay a while. It is also nice to read your cute thoughts in your little diary and I plan to write somthing similar myself.

Butt, butt, Arnold, we must try to keep our integrity intact. We would not like, to be ridiculed and hang like some wollen pantaloon on a web-washingline. You must remember that I am a world-renowned and popular composer and YOU are my toy-boy and will go to music-history as the source of inspiration from Leeds.

Your talent as a beat-farter will be discussed and how it affected my sonatas will be penetrated more than once. Butt your fart-ability isn't new to me. You were a musical-fart-master already last time you were here, and when it comes to Cage's shitmusic it is really entertaining how you can fill in his stupid intervals with your mindblowing sounds.

Today I will buy a femal-goat, so we can make our own tzaziki. And maybe we can squeeze in some cow too, in the garage, so you can have fresh home-fattened steaks.

Butt first you must help me with your sister and little Derrick-Arnold. We must make a new christening and call him Karlheinz-Arnold and make her forget that looser-mulatto-shit. There we have a real mission and I don't think we can get some help from that Tom-Tjollki. At all!

Karlheinz Stockhausen wrote: Doch Arnold! I am so happy over, that you at last returned to me, your dear Gernman friend and I hope you will stay a while. It is also nice to read your cute thoughts in your little diary and I plan to write somthing similar myself.

Butt, butt, Arnold, we must try to keep our integrity intact. We would not like, to be ridiculed and hang like some wollen pantaloon on a web-washingline. You must remember that I am a world-renowned and popular composer and YOU are my toy-boy and will go to music-history as the source of inspiration from Leeds.

Your talent as a beat-farter will be discussed and how it affected my sonatas will be penetrated more than once. Butt your fart-ability isn't new to me. You were a musical-fart-master already last time you were here, and when it comes to Cage's shitmusic it is really entertaining how you can fill in his stupid intervals with your mindblowing sounds.

Today I will buy a femal-goat, so we can make our own tzaziki. And maybe we can squeeze in some cow too, in the garage, so you can have fresh home-fattened steaks.

Butt first you must help me with your sister and little Derrick-Arnold. We must make a new christening and call him Karlheinz-Arnold and make her forget that looser-mulatto-shit. There we have a real mission and I don't think we can get some help from that Tom-Tjollki. At all!

Eine Kleine Stockhausen!
Thank you for the warm welcome. And much gratitude for the homemade tzaziki. You are truly too good to me (Arnold).

I hear what you're saying about my horny and mulatto-crazed sister. But what can I (Arnold) do about this rather serious situation? On my postal route I do my best to growl and intimidate any mixed race individuals that have the misfortune of crossing my path. Its the least I (Arnold) can do...

Arnold Layne

PS: The wool pantaloons are non-negotiable. Also can I have a new lunchbox?

Aber doch, Arnold! Please don't call me "Eine Kleine" here, Arnold. It is an expression for our bedroom and NOT for any Forum. I am maybe "a little kleine", butt, butt it is only for you to know my dear. I am BIG in the eyes of the public and I like it to be that way. And I would never comment on your advantages. Big or small. We must think about music-history and Google, Arnold!

Well, well. It is the second time you are going on about a "lunch-box" and I don't understand! You eat your voluminous lunch at my table and what with a box? For left-overs? Butt there never are any! Are there?

Apropos that, have you seen all the ugly avatars that are growing up, at this, earlier so nice, forum? And I wonder, what on Earth this place is coming to! Basket-Mulattos, child-support-avoiders, Tjollki-sevens and now also unseemly, unsightly, green and red arses.

A big German HUH from me.

Karlheinz Stockhausen wrote: Aber doch, Arnold! Please don't call me "Eine Kleine" here, Arnold. It is an expression for our bedroom and NOT for any Forum. I am maybe "a little kleine", butt, butt it is only for you to know my dear. I am BIG in the eyes of the public and I like it to be that way. And I would never comment on your advantages. Big or small. We must think about music-history and Google, Arnold!

Well, well. It is the second time you are going on about a "lunch-box" and I don't understand! You eat your voluminous lunch at my table and what with a box? For left-overs? Butt there never are any! Are there?

Apropos that, have you seen all the ugly avatars that are growing up, at this, earlier so nice, forum? And I wonder, what on Earth this place is coming to! Basket-Mulattos, child-support-avoiders, Tjollki-sevens and now also unseemly, unsightly, green and red arses.

A big German HUH from me.

Eine Kleine Stockhausen!
I use the term endearingly. You are a minimalist not only in the bedroom but also in some of your great works. For instance, I recently saw your "Helicopter Quartet" and was in disbelief at the splendor. How they were able to successfully pilot those helicopters with such an annoying distracting background music...now THAT is a sociological experiment to remember. Perhaps I was a bit overly emotional because I had not yet had my morning bacon, but I was moved to tears.

About the the lunch box, don't be a fool. There are no leftovers. After all, how can Arnold have his pudding if he doesn't eat his meat? Butt butt! It is more of a Leeds fashion and maybe you expect I cast my country's rich heritage into the Rhine river but it is NOT how it works in the UK.

Yes, I have seen the large arses that adorn this forum and i do not care for them. I too have a sizable rump but I do not flaunt. Pfft!

Signing off, your chipper and bright English Lebkuchen,
Arnold Layne

Aber Arnold! I think you have misunderstood the Helicopter-symphony a little. It is meant to be a manifestation of greatness and lifes finitude. And I will here reveal, for your cute little ears, Arnold, that I had planned, that the Helicopters should collide and fall to Earth, with a bigbig bump, during the first performance.

Aber shit! The unimaginative pilots didn't agree to that and it is rather typical how unmusical plebeians not are willing to see, their pathetic little lives, as a part of the art! I rhymed, Arnold! I rhymed!!

Well, well! What you heard, as a disturbing background, is the important part of the masterpiece, and the Helicopters are only there to accentuate the dramatic flow. Not to make some solo operation. Huhu Arnooold!

You see me as a minimalist, and that is so sweet of you, in a pubic way. Aber in the public view, I have ambitions to be a real Maxi-Maxi-Malist, Arnold, and I hope you will help me with that, so we can go to music-history together. You as my English big-little muse.

If not, I will stop making those plum-puddings (672) for lunch, and now I will be sort of honest to you. I think those puddings are horrid shit, Arnold.

And last but not least. I have to be on the top. Sometimes! Or I have to obtain an oxygen inhaler pretty soon...

The Diary of Arnold Layne
8/13/2012

Dear Diary,
I had a miserable day today. First, Einy-Kleiny cut off my plum pudding supply after I pooped on the carpet for the third time this week. But most importantly, its the damn bed.

Why must I, Arnold, always sleep under the bed? I am sick of being on the bottom with Eine-Kleine on top. I, Arnold, deserve a chance to shine on top! But Karlheinz is a difficult and peculiar man, as most geniuses, so I must play by his rules. The problem is the dust and grime under the bed. My eyes, my fucking eyes! How they burn! If there was only a decent sprinkler down there at least. Where is Pablo when you need him most?

Anyway, sweet and sour dreams...
Arnold Layne

PS: I am thinking about killing him.

Aber, meine, not so kleine Arnold. Kill me? Kill me? Have your murderinstinct come to life again? For some missing disgusting pudding? And a little dust? Now you are scary again, Arnold, and if you not compress those thoughts, I have to pad some room and put you there.

You are murderous, grumpy, demanding and British and sometimes I wonder why I love you so much, or at all! You can't understand why I don't like when you put your human waste on my expensive carpets and that I, when I must clean it up, can be a little unkind and vociferous.

So to the bed! I have asked you thousands of times to come up on top. On the bed also! Not on me, since you take my breath away. Literally! But you told me that in Seattle everyone slept under their beds, together with ugly birds and that you liked that. Now you are heavily pining for this American way and an invisible, greenrumped guy called Pablo and his sprinkling. Under MY bed? HUh.

But Arnold, there are no such things like greenrumped, invisible Pablo-sprinklers and I want you, really want you, to come up on top, even if I today will enjoy this location. I can promise to make that horrid pudding again, if you only come to me and stop that carpet-shitting. Please Arnold, it is so embarrassing and unethical to mark your rangers district like that.

Eine Kleine...I am too busy today...the summer stresses must subside. Stay tuned!

Arnold Layne

Jaja! Tuned? Head on nail, Arnold! I will stay here on top all day and work on my new composition, so you can go on with your little stress-chores, as best as you can!

This, my new supreme creation, is for four jet-planes, one soprano-sax and vier percussions, and since the "background" for the planes will be very loud and high-pitched, you may be stunned and a little deaf, Arnold, so we have to protect your cute, frail ears with some cover.

See you when your stresses has subsided. Can they? Subside? Where too? Just wondered...

Where is the world's Licht-Cantata?

Aber doch dear AGAG! That fumbler-fiddler can't be in my world, at all. I have no words for persons like him. HUH!

Karlheinz Stockhausen wrote:: I beg herewith to inform you that Arnold Layne from Leeds, England and I Karlheinz Stockhausen, Mödrath Germany, will on Saturday May 7 legalize our relation, at the Burgermeisters office in Mödrath.

Those who want to participate can apply here! All are welcome to share our happy occation, that has been within the limits of ability, since my dear Arnold has lost 163 kilogramme.

Karlheinz Stockhausen

Those were the days, Arnold! But are we still married, or did we divorce us? I don't remember! But I am sure we didn't celebrate this remarkable day, May seven, so I did it now by beaming up this special happy post!

When you have finished the most urgent of your Summer-stresses could we please have a little remembrance party. If we aren't divorced of course! I can make some disgusting pudding and there will be steaks, lots of steaks, Arnold...

Eine Kleine Stockhausen!
Ja, that brings back tender memories.
The summer stresses have subsided, but now i am traveling. HUH!

I eagerly await the opportunity to discuss these developments over steaks and biscuits. Biscuits, Stockhausen. Biscuits! Don't make me beg for them!

Arnold Stockhausen

OH! Arnold Stockhausen,Oh!

You know how to fiddle on my strings Arnold! You will never have to beg me for anything! All is yours without asking!

How do you like your Biscuits, Arnold? Roasted, with rice and curry? (53) Boiled with macaroni in tomatosauce ? (54) Or raw with green beans in tzatzikisauce? (52) Your choice, Arnold. Always your choice!