the last person to post here wins

The Prince thought to himself: Did the goblin notice that the gender icon in Tonari's profile is a female one and that she wrote in her introduction that she is a stay-at-home mom? The Prince kinda smiled to himself while he waits for the goblin to comment on this.

"...well yes, that's the kind of deception that only George Bush could pull off here..." replied the goblin who now felt that he would let him pretend to be a housewife if he wished, adding "...now, remember if you want to be a housewife, you need to think "mommy" so here is a little practice text I wrote for them before back when I was battling the PCC(pink chalk chickies) at the coffeenole site before it went down, hope it helps you perfect your mommy persona then George, good luck with it..." said the goblin posting the text below

Quote :

repost from a "woman's interest"(read "mommies") site's "last post" thread

the goblin joins the club, he has spent a good hour downloading the ISO image of Mint linux to burn to some CDs for friends, he then burns the CD, he then boots the laptop on the CD to install Mint linux, installs Mint linux and is very happy until he notices that in formatting the hard drive during the install has lost his original ISO image and has to re'download it again

Glossary:
goblin = a geek who gets his hands dirty swooping computers bits
geek = someone who should not be trusted near your computer
CD = something like a 78 but without the needle or gramophone
operating system = remember that high priest who removed bits and wraps one, well something like him
ISO = a picture of an operating system, those hieroglyphics of the high priest doing his work
boots = something that takes off the sarcophagus lid

"...oh, and another one, because I'm an anonymous showoff..." ventured the goblin hoping the prince didn't feel I was letting the side down again, "...no, we are sane serious writers here..." said the goblin in stern voice, adding "...MYAHAHAHAHA..." to good effect

Quote :

addressed to the leader of the women's movement

Dear Madame,
If I may just draw your attention to pitfall in withdrawing religious teaching in your movement, that is to say that to date most women have been taught "Jam and Jerusalem" in equal proportion within your movement, whereas one notes that if one were to continue the withdrawal the Jerusalem side your minions will delve ever further into the jam side of things, and jam as we know is in fact a preservative meaning that it is only a short step from the simply preservation of things to their own mummification with the dire consequences one now sees across those women's interest sites, especially on the "last post" threads, those symptoms being posting all manner cute postable thingies, self embalming, stomping and living under some strange impression that the goblin's "last post" franchise is somehow theirs, anyway your attention to this matter, that is, between shopping sprees, lady's nights and the adoration of little pets would be deeply appreciated, I remain.,

Your sinfully,
A. Fleamailman
("last post" thread custodian)

reposts from "triggers" thread, here(that tread starter has talent)

the goblin found it to be a balance between that which was within and that which was expected from him, saying "...at times I need the pull of the audience, whereas at other times I need to be alone and the audience is forgotten..." ventured the goblin looking out through the French windows across the brilliant white snow again, as if the dark of the interior of the bistro almost underlined the contrast in the goblin's mind at this point, he continued "...so I feel like a "go between" then, connecting my inner self with the outer world, I appease both, I share one with the other here collecting ideas from each without really knowing from which side my next idea will come from, nor, for that matter, for which side I am really writing the idea for either...", in fact, the goblin needed a long time and many rewrites to create anything, as he just seemed to nurture those seeds of some odd idea that had drifted into his mind at some previous point, from either side of his ongoing "go between" existence, until that moment where that idea finally seems to evolve itself into a post, at which point goblin would just set it free on the Internet forgetting about it, save for a copy somewhere, which he kept, should he wish to redo it later, "...so we are not talking about actual "triggers" here, so much as a general nurturing process that is aided by such props as ones coffee, these "last post" threads, umpteen forums and an altogether satisfactory unadventurous "dailylife"..." confessed the goblin at his lot, ever feeding on both worlds then

repost from a writer's forum elsewhere, where the goblin is using a bistro setting to explain a recurring Internet situation

back again, the bistro had been a battle between a man, who wanted to smoke, and the owner's wife, "...you see, there are no "no smoking" rules in Geneva, it's just up to bistro owner..." mentioned the goblin, who had clapped and then had gone "yay yay yay" with his arms in support of her, before returning to his own thoughts in the now near empty morning bistro, where reading through the reply notifications, the goblin had just followed the one that lend him here again, "...ah yes, that French film "Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain", it's funny how an unguessable adventure will pull the onlooker onwards towards its conclusion, it's as if the onlooker somehow knows that the plot must lead somewhere or why then would the storyteller be telling it then...", the sky outside was some off white bright gray that just needed a bit longer to clear the goblin felt, that is before the goblin also noticed that the man had by now walked out, probably to the bistro next door, so the goblin simply repeated to himself something "...in the end the bistro owner's wife can only do what she feels is right for her bistro, for she can't please everyone..."

The elf walks, and he is very sorry that he had just disappeared off of the face the planet. But the elf has been happier then he has ever been before. The elf wants to play with bubbles too.

the goblin saluted the elf, upon his return that is, "...I looked over your short story just now, you have talent..." mentioned the goblin somewhat numbed by the lateness of the hour, or more likely because his bistro morning, had become a bistro day, that had moved on into the evening too, "...at least I have written something from it, matched some of the texts with pictures too, and posted them away that is..." the goblin voiced, perhaps with a tinge of remorse at having not done something more concrete like "split the atom", "made love to the queen of Sheba" or "discovered the secret to eternal youth", "...mind you, if I had done that, I would probably be regretting now that I hadn't created an "Internet self" here, so I can never win I suppose, as there always seems to be something to regret "not doing" regardless of what one actually does...", as the sandman just pointed at his wristwatch looking at the goblin

the goblin himself always remained anonymous here, "...anyway, if ones friends or admirers are imaginative, they won't need "dailylife's" fetters, whereas if ones ever unavoidable age or ones temporary looks, or the color of ones skin for that matter, or ones fickle wealth status, ones deformities, etc., and a whole host of other trivial trappings matter to them enough to make a difference to their friendship toward you, then their feigned friendship just shows its shallowness in my books..." mentioned the goblin who wanted people to see the real goblin, not some man in the mirror here

by now, the goblin knew he could physically stop this game at any point, "...yes, stopping is easy but..., ..." voiced the goblin continuing "..., ...but for how long I wonder...", somehow knowing that his madness would just continue within his mind regardless, and relentlessly too that is, in that stopping wouldn't actually stop the slot from saying "feed me", nor stop any of those ghosts of ones past asking for their acquittal once more, nor even stop those wild tormenting new thoughts from begging their sharing out here, he continued"...oh,, and bedtime too would continue to be the this mind churning everything over like some giant tumble dryer again..." so the goblin could understand someones not joining in, just as he could for their giving up too for that matter, but not for himself though, no, for him by now it was all an addiction, or some simple involuntary release mechanism working here, saying "...so maybe you are wise not to post here mortals, because the more you post upon the Internet, the more intense this madness becomes..."

Quote :

but why would you want to stop posting

"...valid point..." went the goblin who could only point out that writing isn't anything like that which one is imagining it to be here, when one starts out that is, nor that which one has bargained for either, "...there is always a risk of self deception here, that once one builds up a "shared life" with a muse, that one can then at some later point just unshare it, going back to just living on the "dailylife" surface without her again, simply it doesn't turn out like, for it, like a dream diary, or like someone who sees ghosts, is something where practice reinforces the whole sharedness of it..." mentioned the goblin, remembering that "warning, last sanity test: you can't get her back into her bottle from this point", was hidden somewhere in the small print of the Muse's pact

repost from elsewhere, on being told that he had been banned from a site he didn't visit anyway

the goblin thanked xxxxxx for once more rubber stamping his growing qualification for being on the "banned camp" site, in fact the goblin too, had had his fair share of being banned, but that, however bad, the goblin knew, was not nearly as bad as being told to move on from the local bistro, which happened earlier this week, "...yes mortals, you may now take out your hankies and weep profusely on my behalf..." suggested the goblin knowing that the number of sites on the Internet were far in excess than the number of bistros with WIFI near to his home, "...oh, the pain and anguish of it all..." went the goblin continuing "...what will become of me I wonder..."

repost from a writer's site, before giving up there for not getting his wish

at which point the goblin showed up, saying "...that's the trouble with ones "dailylife", one spends 24hours as some dumb human in it, and the moment one gets onto the Internet, where one can be absolutely anything choosing any persona under the sun that is that fits one Internet self and guess what happens mortals...", the goblin paused, reached over for his coffee and then blurted out the rest saying "...well they then just expect you to be that dumb human again of course, well I've got news for them, I am going to be a goblin and that's that...", the view from the McDonald offered a cascade of falling snow, the goblin stuck inside wondered if the humans minded that he always wrote in third person, it was after all a "writer's" site here and the goblin somehow knew that only way to get good at writing in third person, which was, in fact, what most fiction was written in he noticed, was to do just that, "...oh, and there's something else mortals, how about a "last post" thread in the games section here, if you open one up I'll stay MYAHAHAHAHA..." his hopes were high, humans had a bad habit of letting mad creatures lurk under the bed he remembered

repost from elsewhere, just sharing

Quote :

Why were you kicked out of your bistro?

"...I didn't buy enough, nor often enough, to merit my seat during lunchtime that day..." said the goblin who confessed to looking like a bum too at the time, "...you see, when you are young you can wear anything and they will just think that it's the fashion, whereas at my age, if you wear casual clothes too often, they will suspect that that is your low social level then, Switzerland is quite unforgiving towards people looks then, another reason for my persona here perhaps, though you will never hear those words addressed in some condemnation towards you directly from their lips that is...", the goblin then thought of something, continuing "...only that, if I were to now go back in my suit in their slack morning time, purchasing the same coffee and cake, they will say nothing and act like it never happened towards me, nor that something like that could ever have happened for that matter in their ever so welcoming bistro..." smiled the goblin, adding "..."welcome to Switzerland then all those of you who are rich"..."

"...you, me and baby makes three..." remarks the goblin reminded, looking across the bistro at a triangle that the child seems to form with its parents looking on, "...their world for now, that was me too at one time, but it couldn't last then, it grows into something else later..." remarked the goblin, at that slow change of seasons in his life, continuing "...and how stupid it is to say to someone "enjoy your youth", or this temporary "triangle" for that matter, for when is there ever a "now" that one shouldn't try to make the most of then..." ventured the goblin knowing that this is always the only "now" saying "...and my looking back will only make me regret today's "now" too in its turn, simply I have to catch up with the advancing of the season on the outside knowing each season has something then...", at which point the goblin remembered that his Internet self had no season at all, "...so between the madness of my persona here, and the sobriety of my "dailylife", I am adjusting the one, while growing the other, aware that I can say whatever I like and still have little choice about it..."

the goblin noted that somehow the more one feeds the slot the more the slot seems to want posts, "...and after that the slot seems to be following one around too, popping up in the most unlikely places when suddenly that idea for a post hits one that is..." ventured the goblin thinking it was something which most people would probably dismiss as some writer's distraction though goblin himself felt that it to be worth cultivating in ones life if only because the goblin had long noted that there was a lot within one that never gets out, so it was this then that the goblin had dubbed "a muse's pact"

repost for "introductions" thread, elsewhere

the goblin thanked everyone for their welcomes then saying "...I'll just let the narrator explain this one then...", in fact the goblin somehow knew two things by now, and they were, revelation number 1 , that the goblin would turn up on any "last post" thread going regardless of what the site was, something like "goblin verses grannies, mommies, grocery cart owners, religious nutters, pogo players, soap watchers, heavy metal rockers, pro wrestlers, film buffs, farmers, goths, and whatever, whoever, etc., "...well yes, I suppose that that's just my chance to meet people..." confessed the goblin letting the narrator continue, and revelation number 2, that whatever thread the goblin continued on slowly turned in yet another "last post" thread, "...trouble is I just don't know when the thread is suppose to stop, prolific is middle name it seems...", but other than this the goblin was quite normal it seemed

the goblin liked the pictures, saying "...interesting moment in my writing then, I have both 38 pages of matched stuff with pictures that is, and 37 pages of unmatched stuff, about 1300 posts, of which I am adding new texts to the unmatched thread daily, and to which, once I have found a matching pictures that is, I am then transferring the posts from the "unmatched" thread those posts I feel to be done to the "matched" one, but the problem with this process is that photobucket is just so large that each search seemed to turn up millions of irrelevant pictures, so it is often easier for me just to take someone else's posted picture and use it for my own sake, oh yes "goblins are not to be trusted" we know by now...", and then turning round, the goblin looked out across the compacted city of Geneva, where its reassuring constant sameness under this morning's shadow of gathering rain clouds seemed to push the goblin on, the goblin sipped his coffee and then returned to his thoughts here, adding "...no, no one is pushing me in fact, I, like anyone whosoever, who posts on these "last post" threads, could just stop at any moment, or die for that matter, but I wonder if could I really face the fact of seeing myself looking back at this point from either my future old age, or from beyond for that matter, just knowing that that it was my "dailylife" and not me that had actually won on this day...", and with that the goblin hit the "post" button here with a vengeance like a beat of a dancer's drum, adding "...the beat of ones drum is like the beat of ones heart, it proves to me at least that "dailylife" doesn't have it all its own way then..."

repost from another "last post" thread, elsewhere

[quote ]
Fleaman, how many words does it take to say, ... "I'm last"?
[/quote]

"...to others, only a simple "I win" or a few words would suffice , but to oneself I wonder if there are ever enough words, or enough time in this life to really win big, and I want to win big I know..." ventured the goblin knowing that it was what one puts into ones own posts that one wins out of them then, at which point the goblin added "...the question is not if you win here, since you win each time you post, and that is with anything you post too, and you are a persona, that is "a mask" since no one really knows who you really are either, so once you know that you are anonymous, winning against others who are anonymous too, and that you have won regardless, so what is the question that follows on from there I wonder, perhaps "how one wins" then..." but it was an idea that the goblin never pushed onto others here, only that others, if they wanted to know what the goblin was about, would know now

"...it's funny, it wasn't till I saw this thread here today that I remembered something that I had completely forgotten had happened to me some years back...", and with that the goblin explained "...you see, there was this woman, who had bought a computer in our shop quite normally, only to return next morning with the computer in an array of detached bits all in a large cardboard box, wanting it repaired, where, on being refused, she went crazy and grabbed a scanner in her tantrum placing it into her big bag and walked out..." and that should have been the end of it, but no it wasn't, the goblin continued, "...no, she actually returned that same afternoon, minus the scanner of course...", goblin remembered the standard ploy, "...well, the trick now was to stall her till police came, but she went into another tantrum as she realized she had been locked in, and reached for her big bag in her panic and grabbed something in her hand, but the boss's reaction were quick in noticing that she was now holding a large spanner heading for the shop windows, the boss caught her outstretched arm restraining her and shouted to me open the door again allowing her quick escape down the street, straight into the arms of the police who had just arrived on the scene...", the memories of which drifted back into the goblin's mind with a shudder again, but he sipped his coffee again, returning to the story here "...well having closed the shop for the day we turned up at the police station to give our statements, where the interviewing officer calmly confided to us that she was obviously deranged and would need holding for observation...", voiced the goblin as if ending his recollection at this point, almost amazed that all this could have happened and that he had simply forgotten about it, but it was very clear now, even that policeman's parting remark that is, and his casual look when he added "...oh by the way, did you know about the air gun in her bag..."

repost from a "last post" thread elsewhere, where someone was writing the goblin into some fantasy plot, just sharing

the goblin then wondered if he had in fact landed on some "endless story" thread, "...oh right, I am supposed to be dancing merrily and daintily upon green earth I am..." voiced the goblin to himself looking down at the floor of the bistro over the coffee table at his boots "...well, I could give it a try then what do you think Slot...", the slot, hungry as ever replied "...go for it goblin, the bigger fool the better, people just love orchestrated madness but watch out that whyly dislexsick fairy doesn't somehow fruit up your lines in that you're hard enough to follow as it is you know, anyway ask the muse for better plot then..." at which point the man in the mirror wanted another coffee, the goblin calls the waitress "...could we have another cup of coffee dear..." while back in the goblin's mind the goblin knew that it just wasn't that simple in that his muse always wanted attention bigtime and that luxury of a deep bath with a slow dripping tap, "...ah women, honestly you can't live with them or without them..." at which the goblin's muse just gave a teasing smile whispering closely "...oh and you do know how to whistle goblin don't you, you just put your fingers to your lips and blow..." but the goblin couldn't have whistled to save his life at that point any more than he could have diverted his eyes away from her gaze on him either, the slot just skillfully swallowed the post once more before anyone noticed whispering "...ah Dr "besotted male of the species" I presume..."

"...the point, my dear friend..." the shark's voiced seem cool, sardonic even, "...is that we just need a "fall guy' here, nothing more, someone who leaves all their details out there on the forum for others to see, their photo in the avatar etc., so we just have to do the rounds, join in the fun so to speak, gain their trust, and suddenly pounce when we want, so that when the police or those other authorities come looking for us they'll have him instead, we'll be miles away and he'll have a lot of explaining to do, it's that simple, goblin, this Internet is murky waters and they swim with us sharks here so it's their lookout, think of it, we could leaking secrets, slanders someone, commit frauds, honestly there's no end of things you and I could get up to when you think about it...", the goblin didn't reply, but, as the idea of "identity theft" sank in, it almost seemed sinister in its ease of perpetration, the goblin let the shark continue his sales pitch for a while but the goblin knew that somehow he had to warn the others before it was too late

("...here then is another reason why I am anonymous and with never choose to be otherwise..." mentioned the goblin in today's "show and tell" here)

repost from a "last post" thread, elsewhere, but not far enough

the goblin thanked xxxxx for his post but asked him not to PM him, saying "...you can't unchange the past, the women you hurt for whatever reason you hurt them are still hurt, they don't ask you for an explanation nor an apology, only that they ask you to leave them alone now, simply, like me, they don't want you to pm them, period, they didn't enjoy reading your posts on a "family forum" of a explicate sexual nature towards them, and so, when they emailed me, I had to ask you to stop, that's all, simply it wastes everyones time having to deal with the stalking PM type, that's three forums now that you have been banned from to date and even from one that re let you in too, offering you a wasted second chance it seems, but in none of the cases did I talk to the admin about you before the event, it was just clear from what you did, who you were, and what you will continue to do..." and with that the goblin, somewhat fed up with being diverted each time, wanted to go back to having fun here feeling that he had more important things to do, correction there, feeling that anything else he did was miles more important than this then

the goblin let others win here in their own way, and what they posted was what in fact what they won of themselves, felt the goblin, saying "...I suppose sites too, are there to make members feel good about themselves, something I'm all for then...", the goblin then humbly thanked America for its people, its democracy, its liberty, and its new president, etc., but actually the goblin liked America more for its peanut butter, putting his hand on his chest and boldly saying "...God bless America and all your chunky peanut butter...", his confession was over

repost from a writer's site "last post" thread, elsewhere

and with the goblin had noted that someone had spoken out to him, "...there slot, that's a start isn't it...", said the goblin now wanting to help that person n his way, "...but goblin, how can you, I mean, you don't know what she wants to write, nor how she wants to write it...", outside, the night seemed to look on in an almost unbroken silence save for the humming of an odd street car on the distant road, audible though a lone open French window here, the moon with its smile as if knew what the goblin was going to say next, perhaps it did, the goblin continued simply breaking this pleasant silence then, he started "...you see, in writing, the narrator is like a harlequin to the actors who talk, the actors can't see the harlequin, no, the harlequin is only visible to the audience's mind eye, but he is there to relieve the actors of the burden of filling in the blanks, "time", "place", "sentiment", and many other adjective and settings can simply be left to the harlequin so that the actors can be more natural in their conversations to one another...", suddenly the goblin went across to the bookshelf to make sure, his hunch was that none of the novels there resembled the plain conversations written like the ones the goblin could see above this post, but then he stopped, returned to his desk, sipped the coffee, and waited for the next bit, "...goblin..." the slot often talked to him, continuing "...suppose this "book world" is giving way to this "Internet" one then, what would today's writers have to master here I wonder...", but the goblin just smiled like that knowing moon again "...perhaps, "how to feed you my dear slot", just how to feed you..." though to be honest the goblin had no idea if anyone would read this far, as the harlequin once more gracefully saluted it closing gesture to the audience leaving the night to take over again

"...well I promised to return this morning then..." mentioned the goblin in passing, yes, while also feeling heavily those moments till the kettle would boil in the unlit kitchen alcove once more, "...first the coffee, then the post, that's the way then..." voiced the goblin reminding himself that there was no need to rush, far from it, each post had to be in tune with the muse's pact, continuing "...or else, what's the point in writing at all, we know that, don't we slot...", the slot just opened its mouth again, by now it barely needed to say "feed me" to the goblin, saying instead "...when you look at the posts, you are with others and it's all a fun game but when you write you are alone with yourself, that's all, so discard all those motivations to write then for their cheapness that makes you cheap with them, forget the others as well, think of writing as a "journey to self" then, and write to know who you are by what you post, oh and hurry up and get that coffee will you goblin...", the harlequin felt the need to add the settings again but the dull advancing day hardly seemed worth mentioning at this point, preferring instead to point out the fact that the sun today ruled the sky even if the moneygod ruled the city of Geneva below it leaving the goblin to contemplate what he would post next