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Status Updates posted by Jonathan

  1. I wanted to try writing a story in an American voice, and well, this is what I came up with...

    My name is Jimmy, and I'm Jesus's son. Yeah, that's right, Jesus, everyone's
    favourite Mexican magician, He's my dad. It might sound like a sweet gig, being the
    grandson of God, and sure there are a few perks, like doing miracles and the
    free wine, but mostly it's just a giant pain in my ass. I hear classmates tell
    me their families are a problem and I'm like, dudes, you have no idea.

    I'm studying a NYU, and being the son of the son of God means just about
    everyone knows me, and I get all manner of phonies trying to ingratiate
    themselves with me and skanky chicks throwing themselves in the direction of my
    bed. That last part might sound fun, but trust me it gets old real fast. Worse
    is that all the smart, classy, or interesting chicks won't come near me. They
    think I'm going to be some religious freak, or super self-important or
    something, just 'cause my family's supposedly a big deal. The crazy thing is,
    I'm not even particularly spiritual. If it weren't for my folks, I'd probably be
    an atheist, how nuts is that?

    It isn't just skanks after a prestige lay either, I also get creepy attention
    from the other end of the spectrum: The super religious girls, and guys. They
    all tend to be very mixed up, with all manner of parent issues, conflicted
    sexuality identity, repression and guilt. For some reason, they latch onto me as
    the solution to all their problems. For a while I used to command 'em to go out,
    get wasted and get laid. Figured it might do them some good. But then my Dad
    found out and went apeshit. Nowadays I just tell 'em to go away.

    To be honest, I don't see eye to eye with my Dad. Nowadays I only see Him when I
    go home for the holidays. We usually manage to keep the peace for about two days
    before we end up in some blazing row, usually over who spilt the milk or
    something dumb like that. Then it's a week or more of silence and simmering
    resentment, while Mom does her best to smooth things over, before I head back to
    NYU. I tell you, for a guy supposedly all about forgiveness, he sure stays mad
    at me for a long while.

    I should be more understanding, I guess. I think my Dad's pretty stressed out.
    His whole second coming hasn't really worked out like He expected. Turns out
    bringing the kingdom of Heaven to Earth is harder than you'd guess, and now He's
    got Grandpa on His back. I heard them talking when I was last home. It's weird to
    watch. It kinda seems like regular praying, but then occasionally you'll hear
    God talk back.

    Anyway Dad was complaining about all the problems He's got in the church and the
    trouble converting all the heathens blah blah blah, and I can hear Grandpa just
    muttering and going uh-huh a bit like He does when He's getting pissed. Next
    thing, I hear my Dad say, "Anyway, I'm thinking it might end up taking a third
    coming." Well, the old man just about flipped, or came as close as I've ever
    heard Him. Starts telling my Dad there's no goddamn *way* He's getting another
    coming. That the only way He's getting back into Heaven is by building it on
    Earth first.

    Dad was in a seriously sore mood after that little exchange, as you can imagine,
    and I steered well clear of Him. He spent the whole next day sulking in the
    garage working on his woodwork stuff. I feel sorry for my little sister, Mandy,
    being stuck in that environment, but she seems happy enough. Dad dotes on her
    though, He always has. I think He's always resented me, 'cause I was one of His
    first big fuck-ups and caused all sorts of scandal. I think Grandpa arranged
    some kinda shotgun wedding, where He changed history so Mom and Dad were married
    before I was conceived. I'm fuzzy on the details, 'cause the only time I ever
    hear about it is when Aunt Dorothy gets drunk at family events and starts

    I guess by the time Mandy showed up eight years later, Dad was feeling better
    about the whole situation, or at least He'd resigned himself to it. Anyway, I'm
    pretty sure He loves her more than He loves me. I reckon Mom loves us both about
    the same though. I wonder about her and Dad though. Sometimes I think they're
    both still into each other, and others I think it's all for appearances. I know
    she was one of His groupies, back in the early days. When I was in the attic one
    time I found an old photo from back then. It's weird. Dad was all in hippy
    robes, with long hair and this gay little beard, and He's standing on a little
    rock, teaching to this rapt looking group of stoners. Anyway, front row, there's
    Mom, staring up at Him like He's, well, Jesus.

    It seems like a pretty weird way to start a relationship, almost kinda
    exploitative on His part, you know? I've never had the guts to ask either of
    them about it though. Still, I sure don't see Mom giving Him any rapt looks like
    that anymore, most often she's telling Him to stop watching the Football and
    take out the garbage, or some such. That's where I differ from my Dad. If it was
    me, I'd just miracle the goddamn garbage bag into the trash can from the couch,
    but He actually gets up and does it. Says miracles aren't to be used for trivial
    stuff, or some such shit. I say: That's exactly what they *should* be used for.
    Using them for big stuff is way more likely to 'cause trouble. Like going around
    feeding thousands of people, and putting all the food vendors out of business.
    It's just one more thing we end up arguing about.

    Incidentally, the whole Mom and Dad thing is another reason I steer clear of
    religious chicks. Even when you get the occasional one who's cute and who
    doesn't seem messed up, I can't help but think at the back of my mind, would she
    even be talking to me if I wasn't the son of the son of God? And if we were
    making out or getting it on, would she be thinking about my Dad, or even my
    Grandpa? Ewwww. It's bad enough knowing that Grandpa is always watching me when
    I'm doing stuff like that.

    Oh, and that reminds me of the absolute worst experience of my life. Listen to
    this and tell me if any possible family bullshit you have can ever compare. I'm
    thirteen years old, and I'm turning into a typically horny teenage kid. One day,
    a guy at school puts a porno mag in my schoolbag, as a joke. They all know about
    my Dad and think it's super funny to pull stuff like that. Anyway, I find it
    when I get home, and I'm looking through it, and there's some pretty hot chicks
    in there, up to all kinds of business. So, for the first time, I start to do
    what comes naturally. Next thing, there's this flash of light, and my Grandpa's
    voice booms out, saying "STOP THAT!"

    Seriously, what the fuck, right!? Can you imagine the horror and mortification?
    Even worse, He went and told my Dad, who proceeds to give me a lecture and make
    me promise never to do it again. I promise, and of course a week later I'm back
    doing it again. Another flash, another "STOP THAT!", and another lecture from my
    Dad. This time I last a whole month, but of course eventually I break. This
    time, when my Grandpa yells at me to stop, I yell right back. I tell him to quit
    watching me and keep His perverted omnipresent ass out of my business and out of
    my room. Well, that was the last time He ever bothered me about that, but it
    still freaks me out something awful knowing He's probably watching whenever I
    jerk off or make it with a chick.

    At least at NYU I have a few buddies who pretty much treat me normally. There's
    Chris and Isfaar, who I met 'cause we have the same major (Social and Cultural
    Analysis). Chris is an atheist, so he doesn't care about my family 'cause he
    thinks it's all bullshit. I mean, I've literally performed miracles in front of
    him and he's like, nah bro, don't believe it. And Isfaar's Muslim, so he doesn't
    care too much. He just thinks my Dad is an important prophet, by no big deal
    compared to Mohammed. And squaring the circle there's Hannah, who we met at a
    Vampire Weekend gig. She's short and she's loud and she's Jewish, albeit non-
    practicing. Me and Hannah like to joke that if we ever got together, all our
    parents would have a coronary apiece. Together, the four of us sound like the
    setup to a bad joke, but we're a pretty tight little circle.

    Anyway, they're all chill about my family situation. They'll give me shit about
    my "groupies" when some religious floozy is hanging around me, but they do their
    best to shield me from it as well, 'cause they know how much I hate it. We
    decided to all rent an apartment together for our second year, which might have
    been a disaster, but actually turned out great. We had an awesome party right
    after we moved in. I filled up the whole bathtub with water and turned it into
    beer. Chris got absolutely slaughtered because he drank about a gallon of it,
    insisting it was still just water. The guy's committed to his beliefs, I'll give
    him that. Nowadays we spend the evenings marathoning shows on Netflix, playing
    XBox, and helping construct Hannah's weird installation art pieces.

    I dunno why I decided to write all this. Maybe more for my own sake than for
    anyone else's. I guess I wanted to communicate who I am a little better, both to
    myself and to anyone else who might read it. Being Jesus' son is not something I
    chose, and I often wish I was just part of a regular family, but there's nothing
    I can do about it. Hopefully, what I've written might at least convince people
    that while my family is a big, inescapable part of my life, it doesn't completely
    define me. I want to carve out my own path.

    I guess, what I'm hoping is that, when I die, there'll be something more on the
    headstone than just "Here lies the son of the son of God". Is that too much to

    1. Show previous comments  7 more
    2. darknation


      indeed, is hard to fully exorcise the britishness from diction. That said, I accidentally left the word 'lift' in the action doom narration and none of the Americans noticed and replaced it with 'elevator'. I have no problem with the word 'row' in this context... I think a pseudo-intellectual American college boy Jesus would use this in conversation no problem. I certainly passed over the word without it jarring me out of the text.

      if you really wanted to extend this premise into something more... realistic, the best model for the character might be a scientology baby. Just replace 'Jesus' for 'Tom Cruise' and you've got a solid base for all sorts of 'my father is god and everyone else is going to hell' related hijinks.

      and as for God speaking to people internally, schizophrenics and popes experience this phenomenon all the time. It generally leads to very poor decision making.

    3. Csonicgo


      darknation said:

      indeed, is hard to fully exorcise the britishness from diction. That said, I accidentally left the word 'lift' in the action doom narration and none of the Americans noticed and replaced it with 'elevator'. I have no problem with the word 'row' in this context... I think a pseudo-intellectual American college boy Jesus would use this in conversation no problem. I certainly passed over the word without it jarring me out of the text.

      if you really wanted to extend this premise into something more... realistic, the best model for the character might be a scientology baby. Just replace 'Jesus' for 'Tom Cruise' and you've got a solid base for all sorts of 'my father is god and everyone else is going to hell' related hijinks.

      and as for God speaking to people internally, schizophrenics and popes experience this phenomenon all the time. It generally leads to very poor decision making.

      They actually call them "lifts" in places like brooklyn and queens, where they were actually lifts with gated doors. so it fit.

    4. Processingcontrol


      Csonicgo said:

      They actually call them "lifts" in places like brooklyn and queens...

      No they don't. I've lived in Brooklyn all my life and I've never heard someone here call an elevator that.

    1. Show previous comments  6 more
    2. Danarchy


      Yeah, how do you not know what an integer or a variable is? Even I know that and I never got past Basic. I hope that part was made up. o_o

    3. AndrewB


      Maybe that part is made up, but the part about not knowing how to leave a room absolutely has to be true.

    4. Use


      I giggles. I suppose that makes me a bad person.

  2. Couple of days late, I know, but it is now two years since Mordeth last updated the Mordeth homepage. Not a particularly interesting fact perhaps, but I like to keep track of these things.

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. printz


      Yeah, he IS kinda slow (Mordeth). Maybe he should pass it to someone with more time spent on map editing.

    3. Creaphis


      There are feature-related posts in the Eternity forum by Mordeth from within the last, well... year, anyway, so at least something has happened with that project since the last site update.

    4. Jonathan


      See you all next year!

  3. A fatty followed me in the supermarket today. I think he must of entered just after me, whilst I was standing checking out the papers. I turned around and saw him. He was more than fat, he had gone far beyond simple fatness into some horrible obesity where his legs and arms and head seemed merely mutant growths upon the rotund blob that was his stomach.

    As soon as I saw his corpulent mass heaving into view I thought, "Oh God, I bet that guy stinks". Sure enough as I tried to quickly pass his massive bulk, which occupied almost the entire aisle, I caught a whiff of a wretched sweaty musk emanating from the direction of fatso's armpits and God knows what other areas. Fighting the urge to gag I made haste to grab the few items I needed from that aisle and move out of the blobman's vicinity and smell-range. I figured that the level of food purchase needed to sustain that awful weight would mean a slow pace around the shelves, as he stocked up on every type of food he could.

    I was wrong, little sooner had I turned the corner than his giant bulk came ambling around as well. A moment of sheer horror then, as I grabbed a pack of yoghurts from the shop fridge and hastened onward. And yet I could not escape the fatso. It was as if some kind of reverse gravity was pulling his gigantic belly ever towards me. I dashed around the shop, grabbing items and quickly stuffing them into my basket. And no matter where I turned, there was fatty, seemingly always at my shoulder as I raced onward, terrified of smelling that revolting stench again. I couldn't have been in the shop more than three of four minutes, yet it seemed like an eternity of blubber filled horror.

    At last though, I seemed to have lost him. I carried my filled basket to the checkout, and was relieved to find one with no queue. I swiftly placed my basket down and began to unload the items, when I spied something in the corner of my eye. It was fatso, he homed into view like an oil tanker upon a mountain stream, blotting out the sun, and making small children cry and priests renounce their faith in realisation that no benevolent God could allow such an awful thing to be. My horror redoubled, was he following me? Had he noticed my attempts to flee his rotten odour, and was now pursuing me to inflict it on me threefold? What sort of sick mind lurked behind that jelly face? I struggled to quickly bag-up my purchases as soon as the cashier scanned them, even as I noticed that fatso himself had only bought a handful of items. How so? Had he been in such a rush to follow me that even his gross appetite had been put on hold, or perhaps, I wondered in dawning terror, could something else be on the menu? Could he really be planning to eat me?

    Normally I would have ridiculed such cannibal paranoia, but the events of the past few minutes, and the terrifying sight and smell of fatso had left me clinging to mere shreds of sanity. I had to escape the mad fat bastard's clutches. I raced to pay, even as the toxic stench of the blob's body invaded my nostrils and brought me feel close to fainting. Not daring even to look upon the rotund thing I grabbed my bags and shot for the door, and freedom. As I passed through the anti-theft barriers and out into the world, I fancied I felt a movement in the air just behind my head, as if giant pair of jaws had reached out to consume me, and snapped shut just a hair's breadth short. I dared not look back, and strived to swiftly put some distance between myself and the store.

    At last I judged it safe enough to spare a glance backwards and, seeing I was not purused, slowed my pace and breathed a sigh of relief. I felt the cool, clear outdoors air fill my lungs and cleanse them of the stinking fatty-sweat infected gases, it had been a narrow escape.

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. zark


      When I saw the title of this thread, I thought it was about Ralphis.

    3. Janderson



      I had a similar experience, me and my dad went to Asda, to stock up on our weekly supply of food, when lo and behold; a behemoth wearing a purple leather trenchcoat closed and matching sandels. The obese woman's trenchcoat only came to knee height revealing hideously swollen 'cankles.' As she walked her fat legs rippled giving her the appearance that she was rolling, using her pink spherical calfs/shins as wheels.

      It wasn't like I was stalked, oh no! Quite the opposite. I was magically drawn to her, and I'll swear she had her own gravitational pull because I walked into her four times! I was knocked to the floor on three occasions.

      The first time I tried to make it look like I simply nudged her while trying to retrieve the slab of meat she had just dropped, that worked and she said 'I was a gentlemen.' I was safe.

      Then I consulting the the shopping list. BAM! she had materialised at the end of the aisle, and I damn near sank into her arm. She starts laughing and says 'We should stop meating* like this.' (*Well thats how it sounded to me.) So I said 'heh' and walked off.

      Only a minute or so later, I'm walking to the junction bit and she totally takes me out from the side with her trolley, and the bitch creased up laughing and for a moment metamorphosised into a noseless armadillo, as she folded up with glee. So I more or less buggered off, while she cackled behind me.

      Finally, we were about to leave for the tills, when I decide to go and get the recent TotalGuitar issue. I meandered up the aisle and tripped over a little kid crouching on the floor reading a comic, or something. I recovered, lost my balance and tried to right myself by pushing against a trolley, of all things. The owner was reading some health magazine (which is quite sad) and she absolutely wailed as the trolly colided with her shins. Then she kind of roared and pushed the trolly with all her might, we both fell but I was the only one who got up. That's right she was trapped on her back like a turtle.

      I'm not sure if she saw me or would have been pleased to see me, so while she was being aided to her feet, I split. I don't like too be mean, especially when she was clearly mourning her body when I woke her up, but damn! and that is all I have to say.

    4. Danarchy


      This reminds me of this incident I had at Target once. Me, my mom, and my sister's friend (who was living with us at the time) went out to get some stuff at Target and as we were walking around looking for something, we noticed the woman up ahead, who weighed at least a good 250 lbs. was wearing apricot spandex at least 3 sizes too small. Lard was bunched up into many rolls in some places and squeezing out in great sheets of flab in others. Not only that, but her granny panties were clearly visible through the thin, overstretched veil of what could only be remotely classified as pants.

      My mom was the first to spot this and when she alerted us, we all made involuntary retching sounds followed by laughter that we had to force down to keep the contents of our stomachs happy in this moment of gret distress so they wouldn't leap from our throats to their demise onto the tiles of the store. I think the woman heard us because she turned around and glared, but for fucks sake, YOU GET WHAT YOU DESERVE.

  4. I jump on a busy server and have a pretty good game on zdctf11, even though the packetloss on my wireless lan makes it feel like I'm playing through a modem when my ping is ~50ms. The game ends, we win. Next map starts, somehow it's gone from 6v6 to 4v4, but whatever. I'm red, I grab a ssg and head for the their flag room. I kill a couple of blues on the way. Grab their flag and head off the opposite route I came, killing another guy on the way out. As I'm approaching our base I hear the familiar "red flag has been taken" message. I get into position and meet their carrier with a ssg in the face and return the red flag. Less than a second later I again hear "red flag has been taken" and I know it's over. I figure what the hell and steam into the flag room anyway. Predictably enough there's three blues in there and nary a red to be seen; I get wasted before I can get a shot off. Whilst their flag carrier heads off to score, I respawn a couple of times, only to get spawn killed by one of the three blues who are now just sitting in our flag room with rocket launchers spamming away at the spawn spots. I realise I haven't even seen another member of my team yet, I check the scores and none of them have scored a frag. At this point I remember why I got so fucking sick of ZDaemon ctf in the first place, and quit.

    1. Show previous comments  7 more
    2. Bucket


      LOLMAN is my hero.

    3. Danarchy


      Ralphis said:

      Yes, because everyone loves playing a game where every server is empty!

      Not on Fridays. :D

    4. Darkman 4

      Darkman 4

      When I grow up, I want to be just like LOLMAN. :(

  5. Just saw it. Man, that was a good movie. Does it say something about me that I was rooting for Tom Cruise's character right up to the end?

    1. Linguica


      I didn't think it was that good, very cliched and convenient at times, a real disappointment compared to what I know Michael Mann can do (Heat).

    2. Sephiroth


      WHAT! no pedo.gif?

      havnt seen the movie. i'll catch it when its at the store.

    1. Show previous comments  5 more
    2. Danarchy


      <insert link to homoerotic Carmack/Romero fanfic here>

    3. Gokuma


      Heart of Darkness?

    4. MaximusNukeage


      that morph gets funnier/sicker every time i see it

  6. Hey Watson,listen to me careful,listen well,listen good,listen correctly!Listen!
    Let's start from the start:When I was young I wanted to fuck your pet goat.Dumb idea,very unhygenic,got diseases,almost died.Next week I tried stupid idea again,almost got my dick bitten off by goat,this time you caught me in the act.

    I was a sick fag with tiny diseased cock,i admit it!But what kind of gold shitting superman you think you are in your tiny headed brain to do like you did.Going around calling me "goatfucker",telling my parents,friends,teachers I like to fuck goats,telling police so they call me to the station for questioning,painting "goatfucker" on my house and standing outside with big placard on which you've written that I like to fuck goats?!?

    But now,even worse,you upload photos of me fucking your goat onto website and show them to everyone on the Doomworld forums.You seem to follow me to every thread trying to make the reputation of Jonathan as The Biggest Doom Goatfucker in which you claims I like to fuck goats all day long and even pay them for it.

    Here's my question you cuntsucking cock:HOW CAN YOU JUDGE OTHERS SEXUAL PREFERENCE IF YOUVE NOT TRIED IT YOURSELF?MAYBE YOU HAVE GIRLFRIEND,GREAT!BUT NOT ALL OF US ARE SO LUCKY AND SOME HAVE TO GET ACTION WHERE WE CAN.IF YOU THINK FUCKING GOATS IS SO BAD WHY DON'T YOU TRY IT YOURSELF AND SEE FOR SURE OR GIVE ME MONEY TO PAY A PROSTITUTE.Not only are you making my life all shitty with relentless goatfucking talk,but have you no concern for life of the goat either?It is now on internet in pornographized photos showing me doing things to it,can you imagine how it feels?do you care!?I think not.I already heard two people saying they liked the look of your goat,if it gets raped by others don't come blaming me because I warned you now.

    Cyb because of you,people believe I am truly a goatfucking idiot,but I think its you who is idiot.

    Thankyou for your time,please please stop in future.


    P.S.Do you still have the goat?Could I come round and see it some time?Not to fuck it!Honestly.Maybe just kiss it a bit,maybe oral?Well let me know okay.

  7. http://www.vect.org:8080/~zero/romero/

    This is what happens when it's the holiday and you have too much time on your hands.

  8. test, yo!

    1. Jonathan


      hoo har, this shouldn't be displayed