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I've decided to get a Vax shot this Friday. If there's any complications or just don't make it, the sites bank account has about six months in funds there before it goes dark.
Last week, I completely restructured my will so that it now officially states: I, Bastard Factory aka BF, loyal member/admin of Bastard Factory Forums, do make and declare my last will and testament as follows: First and foremost, should I pass into the ether due to unforeseen circumstances in or out of posting on the internet, my body such as it can be found shall be transported with all due haste back to the suburbs of Los Angeles, and given over to the care of any family member who I assume will take me back. I wish nothing but peace and affluence to the members and a piece of effluence to all my haters. (u know who u r)
As for my possessions: To longtime forum member and friend realgrimm, I leave my entire closet of polyester disco shirts and dvd collection of Norm McDonald movies. Dove gets the cat. For my friends and fellow forum members, you are all to have a MASSIVE 24+ hour party with flowing top shelf liquors, unicorn colored ecstasy pills will litter the tables and varies kinds of smoke to permeate the air... my gallon bottle of Grey Goose Vodka at my side. A winning raffle will be announced for the admin logins. At a specified time, the house lights will begin to flicker and enter my parents wearing their matching Adidas leisure suits covered in bright sequins from head to toe. The rest of the family, and a good bit of you board members will enter from stage left as my casket, lined in silver satin and black light bulbs **strobes flashing** comes from stage right on a series of titanium rollers... I'm to be eased near center floor. The thunderous bassline of will begin to deafen any rumble of your background chatter... I'll then pop up, out of my casket, dead as fuck, but with a permanent grin affixed on my face from the surgeons touch... my fingers jolting into the air as a turntable deck rushes on stage in front of my lifeless body... wires attached to my body parts will flail me around, doing kind of an endless running man, as the disco beats begin pumping through 4 HUGE, state of the art touring amps. In cages, 15 feet above the dancefloor both Jeannie and Sharona are wearing nothing but police tape and holding two searchlights, one in each hand. I've also arranged to pay out a large amount for the stunning beauties of Bastard Factory Forums and a few others to come and dance for us under a well known Instagram choreographer.
In their minds eye they will see that I was the infinite well of passion, compassion and that I still offer erotically pleasurable memories of satisfaction for not just them, but all you to bathe in. The skilled puppet-master will move my limbs in a matter that'll make me spin to some of todays smoothest moves. A rave will then ensue, packing the dancefloor. After what will seem to be an eternity of pleasure, the crowd will look back BFs way, only to see that he is no longer there... just his near empty vodka bottle.
Everyone else will head around the corner to the afterparty smiling ear to ear forgetting who I was or maybe they didn't care in the first place.
My head will then be separated from my body; the latter to be cremated and stored in a beloved Pringle potato chip can; the former, duly macerated and prepared, my skull will be brought to The New American Theatre, for use in the famous "Alas, poor Yorick" scene in Hamlet.
Last week, I completely restructured my will so that it now officially states: I, Bastard Factory aka BF, loyal member/admin of Bastard Factory Forums, do make and declare my last will and testament as follows: First and foremost, should I pass into the ether due to unforeseen circumstances in or out of posting on the internet, my body such as it can be found shall be transported with all due haste back to the suburbs of Los Angeles, and given over to the care of any family member who I assume will take me back. I wish nothing but peace and affluence to the members and a piece of effluence to all my haters. (u know who u r)
As for my possessions: To longtime forum member and friend realgrimm, I leave my entire closet of polyester disco shirts and dvd collection of Norm McDonald movies. Dove gets the cat. For my friends and fellow forum members, you are all to have a MASSIVE 24+ hour party with flowing top shelf liquors, unicorn colored ecstasy pills will litter the tables and varies kinds of smoke to permeate the air... my gallon bottle of Grey Goose Vodka at my side. A winning raffle will be announced for the admin logins. At a specified time, the house lights will begin to flicker and enter my parents wearing their matching Adidas leisure suits covered in bright sequins from head to toe. The rest of the family, and a good bit of you board members will enter from stage left as my casket, lined in silver satin and black light bulbs **strobes flashing** comes from stage right on a series of titanium rollers... I'm to be eased near center floor. The thunderous bassline of will begin to deafen any rumble of your background chatter... I'll then pop up, out of my casket, dead as fuck, but with a permanent grin affixed on my face from the surgeons touch... my fingers jolting into the air as a turntable deck rushes on stage in front of my lifeless body... wires attached to my body parts will flail me around, doing kind of an endless running man, as the disco beats begin pumping through 4 HUGE, state of the art touring amps. In cages, 15 feet above the dancefloor both Jeannie and Sharona are wearing nothing but police tape and holding two searchlights, one in each hand. I've also arranged to pay out a large amount for the stunning beauties of Bastard Factory Forums and a few others to come and dance for us under a well known Instagram choreographer.
In their minds eye they will see that I was the infinite well of passion, compassion and that I still offer erotically pleasurable memories of satisfaction for not just them, but all you to bathe in. The skilled puppet-master will move my limbs in a matter that'll make me spin to some of todays smoothest moves. A rave will then ensue, packing the dancefloor. After what will seem to be an eternity of pleasure, the crowd will look back BFs way, only to see that he is no longer there... just his near empty vodka bottle.
Everyone else will head around the corner to the afterparty smiling ear to ear forgetting who I was or maybe they didn't care in the first place.
My head will then be separated from my body; the latter to be cremated and stored in a beloved Pringle potato chip can; the former, duly macerated and prepared, my skull will be brought to The New American Theatre, for use in the famous "Alas, poor Yorick" scene in Hamlet.
I love it tho!
