Once upon a time there lived a very large cult named RMB. There lived the scary n00b eater Heather who would devour the self-esteem of all those who crossed her. One day however, kindness overtook her and she allowed one little n00bling, the great wombat ninja to live. Soon the great wombat met the Kyle whose mind looked a little like this. Along with the cat stealing ninja reproduction (it involves a shirkin) protege they managed to completely take over the cult with the help of a few others who you can find within here. They even managed to rescue the lovely Gracie2. Alas it did not last, the evil she-devil-republican owner tired of their presence and threw Gracie1 out. The little band were not discouraged however and went off to form the late “I’m an idiot” ).
It seemed as though the travellers had found a place to destroy for themselves. That was until they managed to insult someone that turned out to be one of those friendly with Jet/the admin kids and then the cult was mysteriously deleted for powerbombing, despite all the members not having premium. So that’s the long and dull story of how the refugees ended up here. Join us really, there’s cake!
And lo, so it was that the All Mighty Bandersnatch did lower down upon the World a Golden McNugget, and spewing forth of its own vile corruption it did people the Earth with Men of Flesh and Weakness, and did spread across the Waters the Nectar of Verisimilitudinous Necrosity. And it was Good.
These are The Rules by which you must abide if you wish to post here. They follow in alphabetical order cross referenced by the order in which they were thought up subdivided by their atomic weight and the inverse of their respective usefulness run through a probability grid and then assigned a random number on an arbitrary basis:
Rule the First: Follow the basic guidelines of this website. Because otherwise we will all be devoured by unspeakable monstrosities from beyond the Outer Darkness. And they do not know the meaning of the words "Geneva" and "Convention", if you get my drift.
Rule the Second: Do not confuse "freedom" with "idiocy". Yes, you have the freedom to do whatever you want here, and of course logically that includes the freedom to be an idiot; but do not think that we will not hunt you down like Wolves of the Forbidden Forest and devour your flabby mind with mandibles of pure sarcastic rage. You have been warned.
Rule the Third: Don't join with the specific intent of spamming or otherwise destroying the pious sanctity of our Kulten. That would be an insult to Caveman Jesus and you know it.
Rule the Fourth: Any and all fruits and vegetables must be declared before passing the next check point. Failure to do so will result in extensive paperwork and a full body-cavity search.
Rule the Fifth: Keep your arms and legs and gemstone-encrusted auxillary reproductive structures within the vehicle at all times.
Rule Number Six:There is no Rule Number Six.
Rule VII: Omnia risus et omnia pulvis et omnia nihil. You figure it out.
Rule Number Eight: Completely disregard Rule Number Six.
Rule Number Nine: We are not your local post office. I am sorry for the inconvenience.
Rule Number Ten: Do not anger the she-beast. Ears will be chewed off and heads will truly roll.
In conclusion, no I do not know where your keys are, stop asking. Skank you and Guten Nacht.
Kyle Great Creator of our Kulten and Fearless Leader (since 1889) of the Minions, OR, He Who Beareth The Emerald Encrusted Knobbe
Supreme Robonaut Gracinderjeet Sukhbal, OR, She Who Tendeth to the Evisceration of the Noobling Underforce
Gracie 1 Ninjitsu-comma-Wombat OR, She Who Is Birthed Of Stealth and Humid Marsupium
The Patch is a special prison place in Hawaii where we exile anyone who is annoying or otherwise useless. It is guarded by mutant cyborg pineapple creatures with flame-throwers and electric cattle-prods. If you piss off the staff members enough, you will be exiled there and forced to farm pineapples and carve ukeleles from discarded pineapple skins for the rest of your natural life. Occassionally you will be raped by a back-talking mango named Chuckles. Deal with it.
Patchy Patchy (formerly known as 555) is the creature which the Patch was originally designed to contain. He once spent his days surfing on a giant ukelele and teaching children how to taste high-quality fertilizer, but the Wrath of the Gracies exiled him to The Patch where he became romantically involved with a pineapple. He has now mostly repaid his debt to the cult and now serves as an ambassador. Sometimes we let him out on good behaviour. Feel free to slap him around.
