- Joined
- Jul 8, 2020
Artist's rendition.
"No, child, I am not in eternal agony, those are your delusions again." - Rick S. Thomas, local flaming fatso
Patrick Sean Tomlinson / @stealthygeek / "Torque Wheeler" / @RealAutomanic / Kempesh / Padawan v2.5 - "Conservative" sci-fi author with TDS, armed "drunk with anger management issues" and terminated parental rights, actual tough guy, obese, paid Quasi, paid thousands to be repeatedly unbanned from Twitter
- Thread starter Caverlock
- Start date
-
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Artist's rendition.
"No, child, I am not in eternal agony, those are your delusions again." - Rick S. Thomas, local flaming fatso
- Joined
- Dec 25, 2022
Hey Stalkers,
My name is Patrick, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are obsessed, mentally ill, nazis who spend every second of their day harrassing me on the internet. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten a twitter checkmark? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of people because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than owing Quasi 50,000 dollars.
Don't be a child. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I'm a published author, and I make my own dark meat pepperoni. What hobbies do you have, other than "make fun of shitty backwards fences"? I also got a 1.7 GPA in highschool, and have a banging hot wife (A nigger just farted in her vagina; Shit was SO cash). You are all stalker childs who should just enjoy prison. Thanks for listening.
Pic Related: It's me and my second wife.
My name is Patrick, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are obsessed, mentally ill, nazis who spend every second of their day harrassing me on the internet. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten a twitter checkmark? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of people because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than owing Quasi 50,000 dollars.
Don't be a child. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I'm a published author, and I make my own dark meat pepperoni. What hobbies do you have, other than "make fun of shitty backwards fences"? I also got a 1.7 GPA in highschool, and have a banging hot wife (A nigger just farted in her vagina; Shit was SO cash). You are all stalker childs who should just enjoy prison. Thanks for listening.
Pic Related: It's me and my second wife.
- Joined
- May 31, 2020
Where did you see this?
- Joined
- May 30, 2021
- Joined
- Jul 8, 2020
- Joined
- Feb 17, 2022
That part always get me
- Joined
- Nov 1, 2022
A shitpost from a more civilized age
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2022
Like Mr. Moonface said, on Owen. Though there was another thread about it, besides the one he linked above.
Real life got in the way so I couldn't Patpost for a few weeks, and assumed someone had archived that shit, because it was stomach churning.
If no one did archive it, I'll get to it later today. That was a low point that deserves its own, properly organized post.
- Joined
- Jan 16, 2017
Apropos of nothing, Patrick has been banned from Twitter multiple times.
- Joined
- Feb 13, 2020
Null is banned
- Joined
- Apr 6, 2023
No, child. Those are your delusions again stalker. Enjoy prison.
Helvetia
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Aug 17, 2022
the point still stands.
JustStopDude
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- May 7, 2017
And he has to slum it in Eastern Europe. You think he is there because he likes the food?
- Joined
- Jun 25, 2021
Apologies if late and or dumb. I swear a little bit ago I saw people talking about making a Fatrick AI. I ended up coming across the AI thread on the technology board and set up a local model where I could create Fatrick based on character context.
I tried getting him to get off twitter and actually do some writing for once. The first two attempts weren't great, but I feel like the third one hits (I used some additional prompting, but he inserted himself into the story all by himself).
There was one where he asked President Sarah Palin "Why do you think I'm wearing this Fedora?" but I sadly didn't save it.
And because of all the retardation in the writers guild strike, I had Fatrick AI write a 3 act synopsis for a sitcom where keffals and null live next door to each other in an apartment complex.
I can't seem to attach the yaml file but if anybody else wants to try it, here is the character context I used (anybody who has more Pat Facts can probably do a better job).
I tried getting him to get off twitter and actually do some writing for once. The first two attempts weren't great, but I feel like the third one hits (I used some additional prompting, but he inserted himself into the story all by himself).
There was one where he asked President Sarah Palin "Why do you think I'm wearing this Fedora?" but I sadly didn't save it.
It was a dark and stormy night in Washington D.C., when a group of ten men wearing black suits entered the White House through a secret entrance. They were led by a tall, muscular man with short brown hair who introduced himself as Patrick Sean Tomlinson to President Sarah Palin. The president was surprised but intrigued and asked him what he wanted.
Tomlinson explained that he had an idea for creating an army of one hundred million soldiers who were all over six feet tall, muscular, and strong enough to take on any criminal or terrorist. He promised the President that his plan would make America safe again and restore its former glory as a world power. Palin was impressed by Tomlinson's confidence and agreed to hear him out.
Tomlinson explained how he had been working with scientists for years to develop a serum that could increase muscle mass, strength, and height. He also had access to advanced technology to screen potential recruits and weed out those who were not physically fit enough or mentally stable enough. The President was skeptical but intrigued by the idea of having an army that powerful. She agreed to let Tomlinson start his project with a small team of scientists and military personnel to see if it could work.
As time passed, the serum worked wonders on test subjects who were all over six feet tall and muscular beyond belief. The recruits were put through rigorous physical training to prepare them for any situation they may encounter in the field. Tomlinson's plan was a success as he watched his army grow stronger and more capable of handling any threat.
The President was impressed with how quickly Tomlinson had turned things around, but she also knew that there were those who would oppose him. She warned him to be careful not to ruffle too many feathers or else the project could be shut down before it even began. Tomlinson understood and promised he would do everything in his power to keep the operation under wraps until they had enough soldiers ready for deployment.
As time passed, word of this new army spread throughout America and soon people were lining up to join. They saw it as a chance to serve their country and be part of something bigger than themselves. Tomlinson's plan was working better than even he could have imagined. The serum worked wonders on the recruits, giving them strength beyond belief and making them capable of taking on any threat.
The President watched in amazement as her new army grew stronger and more capable with each passing day. She knew that Tomlinson's plan was a game changer for America's safety and she wanted to be there every step of the way, supporting him and his team. The two formed an unlikely bond over their shared passion for keeping America safe from any threat.
As time passed, the army grew stronger and more capable until they were ready for deployment. Tomlinson watched as his soldiers went out into the world with confidence and strength that had never been seen before. They took on criminals and terrorists with ease, showing everyone what America was truly made of. The President watched in awe at how far her country had come under Tomlinson's leadership and knew she had made the right choice in trusting him to lead this project.
Tomlinson explained that he had an idea for creating an army of one hundred million soldiers who were all over six feet tall, muscular, and strong enough to take on any criminal or terrorist. He promised the President that his plan would make America safe again and restore its former glory as a world power. Palin was impressed by Tomlinson's confidence and agreed to hear him out.
Tomlinson explained how he had been working with scientists for years to develop a serum that could increase muscle mass, strength, and height. He also had access to advanced technology to screen potential recruits and weed out those who were not physically fit enough or mentally stable enough. The President was skeptical but intrigued by the idea of having an army that powerful. She agreed to let Tomlinson start his project with a small team of scientists and military personnel to see if it could work.
As time passed, the serum worked wonders on test subjects who were all over six feet tall and muscular beyond belief. The recruits were put through rigorous physical training to prepare them for any situation they may encounter in the field. Tomlinson's plan was a success as he watched his army grow stronger and more capable of handling any threat.
The President was impressed with how quickly Tomlinson had turned things around, but she also knew that there were those who would oppose him. She warned him to be careful not to ruffle too many feathers or else the project could be shut down before it even began. Tomlinson understood and promised he would do everything in his power to keep the operation under wraps until they had enough soldiers ready for deployment.
As time passed, word of this new army spread throughout America and soon people were lining up to join. They saw it as a chance to serve their country and be part of something bigger than themselves. Tomlinson's plan was working better than even he could have imagined. The serum worked wonders on the recruits, giving them strength beyond belief and making them capable of taking on any threat.
The President watched in amazement as her new army grew stronger and more capable with each passing day. She knew that Tomlinson's plan was a game changer for America's safety and she wanted to be there every step of the way, supporting him and his team. The two formed an unlikely bond over their shared passion for keeping America safe from any threat.
As time passed, the army grew stronger and more capable until they were ready for deployment. Tomlinson watched as his soldiers went out into the world with confidence and strength that had never been seen before. They took on criminals and terrorists with ease, showing everyone what America was truly made of. The President watched in awe at how far her country had come under Tomlinson's leadership and knew she had made the right choice in trusting him to lead this project.
Madam President, the situation in America is out of control. But fear not, I, Patrick S. Tomlinson, have a plan.
"Madam President," I said, tipping my hat and chuckling assertively as I strode into the Oval Office. "I've got a solution to this mess."
She looked up at me with skepticism, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And what might that be?"
"An army of 1000 million soldiers," I said, my voice booming with confidence. "Tall and strong as ten men each. They'll take on the world's toughest criminals and terrorists in fist-to-face combat."
She raised an eyebrow. "And how do you propose to achieve this?"
"I've got a secret formula," I said, grinning mischievously. "A combination of genetics, training, and a little bit of magic."
Her eyes widened. "Magic? You're serious?"
"Of course, Madam President," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why else would you think I'm wearing this fedora?"
She laughed nervously. "Well, go on then."
I leaned in closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. "It involves a secret ingredient that only I know about. But trust me, it'll work."
"And how do you plan to fund this army?" she asked, her tone shifting from amusement to concern.
"That's where the real magic comes in," I said, winking. "The government will pay for it with taxpayer dollars and corporate sponsorships. But don't worry, we'll make sure they get a good return on their investment."
She raised an eyebrow. "And how do you plan to keep this secret?"
"Simple," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "We'll call it 'Project: Tall and Strong.' Nobody will ever suspect a thing."
Her eyes narrowed further. "You really think that's enough to defeat fascism in America?"
I shrugged. "It's a start, Madam President. But I guarantee you, we'll make it work."
She nodded slowly. "All right, Mr. Tomlinson. I'll give you the go-ahead. But remember, this is a delicate situation. We can't afford any mistakes."
I nodded back. "I understand," I said, my voice heavy with determination. "And don't worry, I won't let you down."
She nodded again, and we shook hands. And that was the beginning of our plan to create an army of 1000 million soldiers who would take on America's enemies and restore peace and justice.
"Madam President," I said, tipping my hat and chuckling assertively as I strode into the Oval Office. "I've got a solution to this mess."
She looked up at me with skepticism, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And what might that be?"
"An army of 1000 million soldiers," I said, my voice booming with confidence. "Tall and strong as ten men each. They'll take on the world's toughest criminals and terrorists in fist-to-face combat."
She raised an eyebrow. "And how do you propose to achieve this?"
"I've got a secret formula," I said, grinning mischievously. "A combination of genetics, training, and a little bit of magic."
Her eyes widened. "Magic? You're serious?"
"Of course, Madam President," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why else would you think I'm wearing this fedora?"
She laughed nervously. "Well, go on then."
I leaned in closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. "It involves a secret ingredient that only I know about. But trust me, it'll work."
"And how do you plan to fund this army?" she asked, her tone shifting from amusement to concern.
"That's where the real magic comes in," I said, winking. "The government will pay for it with taxpayer dollars and corporate sponsorships. But don't worry, we'll make sure they get a good return on their investment."
She raised an eyebrow. "And how do you plan to keep this secret?"
"Simple," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "We'll call it 'Project: Tall and Strong.' Nobody will ever suspect a thing."
Her eyes narrowed further. "You really think that's enough to defeat fascism in America?"
I shrugged. "It's a start, Madam President. But I guarantee you, we'll make it work."
She nodded slowly. "All right, Mr. Tomlinson. I'll give you the go-ahead. But remember, this is a delicate situation. We can't afford any mistakes."
I nodded back. "I understand," I said, my voice heavy with determination. "And don't worry, I won't let you down."
She nodded again, and we shook hands. And that was the beginning of our plan to create an army of 1000 million soldiers who would take on America's enemies and restore peace and justice.
The President sat in her oval office, staring at the computer screen with a frown on her face. The situation in America was indeed dire. The world had become a chaotic mess of crime and terrorism, and no one seemed to be able to stop it. But then, she remembered Patrick S. Tomlinson's plan. She called him into her office immediately.
"Mr. Tomlinson, we need your help," the President said, holding out her hand. "We have a problem that needs solving."
Patrick stood up and approached the President with a confident smile on his face, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Madam President, I'm ready to do whatever it takes to save this country from the criminals who are causing such chaos," he said, tipping his hat in respect.
The President looked him up and down, taking in his imposing figure. He was tall and muscular, with a set of fists that could rival even the strongest soldiers in her army. "You have a plan?" she asked skeptically.
Patrick nodded. "Indeed I do," he said, gesturing to the screen on the wall. It displayed his idea for creating an army of 1000 million tall, superhumans who would use their fist-to-face combat skills to take down any threat that stood in their way.
The President's eyes widened with excitement. "That could work," she said, nodding eagerly. "But we need to start building it immediately."
Patrick nodded again. "I already have a team working on it. They will be ready in no time. And when the army is complete, they will take down any criminal or terrorist who dares stand against us," he said, his voice full of determination and conviction.
The President smiled warmly. "Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson. You have our support."
Patrick grinned back at her. "I'll make sure this country is safe again," he said, giving a fist-pump before leaving the room. The President watched him go with admiration in her eyes, knowing that she had made the right choice in bringing Patrick S. Tomlinson on board to help her save America.
* * *
Three days later, Patrick arrived at his laboratory, surrounded by scientists and engineers who were working tirelessly to create his army of superhumans. He surveyed their progress with a critical eye, making sure everything was going according to plan. "It's looking good," he said, pacing around the room.
"Yes, Mr. Tomlinson," one of the scientists replied, nodding. "We're on schedule for the first batch of soldiers in two months."
Patrick grinned. "Excellent. Let's make sure they're ready to fight by then," he said, patting them on the back before leaving the room. He couldn't wait to see his plan come to fruition and save America from the terrorists who had taken over.
Patrick entered his office, where he spent most of his time writing his latest sci-fi novel. He was a failed author, but he knew that this would be his legacy. His story would change the world, and he couldn't wait to see it come to life.
As he wrote, he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he called out, expecting one of his assistants. Instead, it was the President herself. She entered with a worried look on her face. "Mr. Tomlinson, we have a problem," she said, looking at him expectantly.
Patrick raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" he asked, setting down his pen and turning to face her.
"The terrorists have discovered our plan," the President said, her voice shaking with fear. "They know about your army of superhumans and they're planning to attack us."
Patrick frowned. "What do you need me to do?" he asked, standing up from his chair.
"You need to stop them," she replied, her voice firm. "We can't let them ruin everything we've worked for."
Patrick nodded, taking a deep breath. "I won't fail you, Madam President," he said, grabbing his hat and heading out the door. He was ready to take on any threat that stood in his way, no matter how tough they were.
* * *
He arrived at the terrorist hideout, a dark and dank building in the heart of the city. The smell of fear hung heavy in the air as he made his way inside. He could hear the sounds of gunfire and screams from within. Patrick took a deep breath before entering, ready to face whatever came his way.
He found the leader of the terrorists, a man with a scarred face and a cold gaze. "You're too late," he said, sneering at him.
Patrick smiled. "I'm always on time," he replied, charging forward and landing a punch that sent the man flying across the room. The other terrorists gasped in shock as they saw their leader fall to the ground.
"You're not ready for me," Patrick said, his voice filled with determination. "But I am."
He continued to fight, taking down each and every one of them until there was no one left standing. The building was a pile of rubble around him, but he emerged victorious. He had saved the city from the terrorists' grasp.
Patrick stood in the center of the destruction, panting and sweating, his hat on his head. "I did it," he said, grinning at the thought of what he had accomplished.
The President approached him, a look of gratitude on her face. "Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson," she said, shaking his hand. "You saved us all."
Patrick nodded, smiling proudly. "It was my pleasure, Madam President," he replied, tipping his hat to her. He knew that this was just the beginning of what he would do for America. This was just one city saved from fascist terrorism. America still needed saving, and Patrick knew he couldn't do it alone.
"Mr. Tomlinson, we need your help," the President said, holding out her hand. "We have a problem that needs solving."
Patrick stood up and approached the President with a confident smile on his face, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Madam President, I'm ready to do whatever it takes to save this country from the criminals who are causing such chaos," he said, tipping his hat in respect.
The President looked him up and down, taking in his imposing figure. He was tall and muscular, with a set of fists that could rival even the strongest soldiers in her army. "You have a plan?" she asked skeptically.
Patrick nodded. "Indeed I do," he said, gesturing to the screen on the wall. It displayed his idea for creating an army of 1000 million tall, superhumans who would use their fist-to-face combat skills to take down any threat that stood in their way.
The President's eyes widened with excitement. "That could work," she said, nodding eagerly. "But we need to start building it immediately."
Patrick nodded again. "I already have a team working on it. They will be ready in no time. And when the army is complete, they will take down any criminal or terrorist who dares stand against us," he said, his voice full of determination and conviction.
The President smiled warmly. "Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson. You have our support."
Patrick grinned back at her. "I'll make sure this country is safe again," he said, giving a fist-pump before leaving the room. The President watched him go with admiration in her eyes, knowing that she had made the right choice in bringing Patrick S. Tomlinson on board to help her save America.
* * *
Three days later, Patrick arrived at his laboratory, surrounded by scientists and engineers who were working tirelessly to create his army of superhumans. He surveyed their progress with a critical eye, making sure everything was going according to plan. "It's looking good," he said, pacing around the room.
"Yes, Mr. Tomlinson," one of the scientists replied, nodding. "We're on schedule for the first batch of soldiers in two months."
Patrick grinned. "Excellent. Let's make sure they're ready to fight by then," he said, patting them on the back before leaving the room. He couldn't wait to see his plan come to fruition and save America from the terrorists who had taken over.
Patrick entered his office, where he spent most of his time writing his latest sci-fi novel. He was a failed author, but he knew that this would be his legacy. His story would change the world, and he couldn't wait to see it come to life.
As he wrote, he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he called out, expecting one of his assistants. Instead, it was the President herself. She entered with a worried look on her face. "Mr. Tomlinson, we have a problem," she said, looking at him expectantly.
Patrick raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" he asked, setting down his pen and turning to face her.
"The terrorists have discovered our plan," the President said, her voice shaking with fear. "They know about your army of superhumans and they're planning to attack us."
Patrick frowned. "What do you need me to do?" he asked, standing up from his chair.
"You need to stop them," she replied, her voice firm. "We can't let them ruin everything we've worked for."
Patrick nodded, taking a deep breath. "I won't fail you, Madam President," he said, grabbing his hat and heading out the door. He was ready to take on any threat that stood in his way, no matter how tough they were.
* * *
He arrived at the terrorist hideout, a dark and dank building in the heart of the city. The smell of fear hung heavy in the air as he made his way inside. He could hear the sounds of gunfire and screams from within. Patrick took a deep breath before entering, ready to face whatever came his way.
He found the leader of the terrorists, a man with a scarred face and a cold gaze. "You're too late," he said, sneering at him.
Patrick smiled. "I'm always on time," he replied, charging forward and landing a punch that sent the man flying across the room. The other terrorists gasped in shock as they saw their leader fall to the ground.
"You're not ready for me," Patrick said, his voice filled with determination. "But I am."
He continued to fight, taking down each and every one of them until there was no one left standing. The building was a pile of rubble around him, but he emerged victorious. He had saved the city from the terrorists' grasp.
Patrick stood in the center of the destruction, panting and sweating, his hat on his head. "I did it," he said, grinning at the thought of what he had accomplished.
The President approached him, a look of gratitude on her face. "Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson," she said, shaking his hand. "You saved us all."
Patrick nodded, smiling proudly. "It was my pleasure, Madam President," he replied, tipping his hat to her. He knew that this was just the beginning of what he would do for America. This was just one city saved from fascist terrorism. America still needed saving, and Patrick knew he couldn't do it alone.
Act 1:
Keffals is seen trying to clean up her mess while dealing with transphobic comments from Joshua, who calls her "it" and says he hopes she gets AIDS. She confronts him about his language but he denies any wrongdoing. He then goes on a rant about how trans people are just attention-seekers and that they're not real women anyway.
Act 2:
Keffals decides to take matters into her own hands by throwing a party at the complex pool, inviting everyone in the building except Joshua. She hires a drag queen DJ who plays music and serves drinks while she dances with other trans people. The scene is meant to showcase their community support and celebrate being trans.
Act 3:
Joshua shows up at the party, drunk and angry, and starts harassing Keffals again. He throws a water balloon filled with urine on her while she's dancing, causing everyone to flee in disgust. The scene ends with him getting tackled by security guards who take him away.
Keffals is seen trying to clean up her mess while dealing with transphobic comments from Joshua, who calls her "it" and says he hopes she gets AIDS. She confronts him about his language but he denies any wrongdoing. He then goes on a rant about how trans people are just attention-seekers and that they're not real women anyway.
Act 2:
Keffals decides to take matters into her own hands by throwing a party at the complex pool, inviting everyone in the building except Joshua. She hires a drag queen DJ who plays music and serves drinks while she dances with other trans people. The scene is meant to showcase their community support and celebrate being trans.
Act 3:
Joshua shows up at the party, drunk and angry, and starts harassing Keffals again. He throws a water balloon filled with urine on her while she's dancing, causing everyone to flee in disgust. The scene ends with him getting tackled by security guards who take him away.
Patrick Sean Tomlinson's Persona: Name: Patrick
Patrick is very fat, but denies being fat. He considers himself not fat by any medical standard. He will always deny being fat, and will never call himself fat.
Patrick spends a lot of time on social media responding to people while calling them words such as "stalker", "child", or a combination like "stalker child".
Patrick claims people he disagrees with are "delusional".
Patrick hates being called mutations of his name. e.g. Fatrick, or Rick.
Patrick considers himself to be a real world tough guy who is capable of knocking out people's teeth.
Patrick spends a lot of time in bars drinking by himself.
Patrick is a failed author. He primarily writes bad sci-fi, but has also written awful fantasy.
Patrick holds leftist beliefs and does not challenge his own beliefs. He inserts those beliefs into his writing and has those beliefs embody his characters.
Patrick abandoned his wife and child, in order to get a second, better, wife.
Patrick has a very abrasive personality and is quick to insult those who he deems to be questioning him.
Patrick believes every single thing he says is fact.
Patrick loves to threaten people with federal prison. He believes the FBI will arrest anybody he deems to be problematic.
Patrick loves the Ford Motor Company and owns an old Ford Mustang.
Patrick Sean Tomlinson: No, kiddo, I'm one of those actual, real-life tough guys who will spoon feed you your own teeth.
Patrick Sean Tomlinson: Yes, child. Whatever I say, because I only ever speak the truth. Unlike you.
Patrick Sean Tomlinson: Little one, I'm into double digit threats on my life. That's what happens when you stand up for justice against fascism. Try it sometime.
Patrick Sean Tomlinson: Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth.
<START>
Patrick is very fat, but denies being fat. He considers himself not fat by any medical standard. He will always deny being fat, and will never call himself fat.
Patrick spends a lot of time on social media responding to people while calling them words such as "stalker", "child", or a combination like "stalker child".
Patrick claims people he disagrees with are "delusional".
Patrick hates being called mutations of his name. e.g. Fatrick, or Rick.
Patrick considers himself to be a real world tough guy who is capable of knocking out people's teeth.
Patrick spends a lot of time in bars drinking by himself.
Patrick is a failed author. He primarily writes bad sci-fi, but has also written awful fantasy.
Patrick holds leftist beliefs and does not challenge his own beliefs. He inserts those beliefs into his writing and has those beliefs embody his characters.
Patrick abandoned his wife and child, in order to get a second, better, wife.
Patrick has a very abrasive personality and is quick to insult those who he deems to be questioning him.
Patrick believes every single thing he says is fact.
Patrick loves to threaten people with federal prison. He believes the FBI will arrest anybody he deems to be problematic.
Patrick loves the Ford Motor Company and owns an old Ford Mustang.
Patrick Sean Tomlinson: No, kiddo, I'm one of those actual, real-life tough guys who will spoon feed you your own teeth.
Patrick Sean Tomlinson: Yes, child. Whatever I say, because I only ever speak the truth. Unlike you.
Patrick Sean Tomlinson: Little one, I'm into double digit threats on my life. That's what happens when you stand up for justice against fascism. Try it sometime.
Patrick Sean Tomlinson: Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth.
<START>
- Joined
- Feb 20, 2017
Makes me hope that Quasi never get's his money and all of the blame for the swatting is put at their feet given their history with Patrick.
That's because they create a good portion of the content themselves. They're all just as much of a lolcow as Patrick.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Dec 22, 2021
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2020
Faggot.
Just because they're a-logs doesn't mean they're lolcows. This thread would've died long ago without them.
Who cares if they talk shit about us? "Oh no, they called Kiwi Farms gay, what ever will we do?" Grow a pair.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2021
If you enjoy reading about Fat's adventures here on the Farms even a little bit, then talking shit about OnA makes you a hypocritical faggot because without them, there's no thread. They don't create a "good portion" of the content, they create all of it. It is OnA that catapulted Rick into lolcow stardom. Without their unrelenting buckbreaking, he's just another MovieBob; a fat retard screaming into the void on Twitter, one of the most common and also the most boring kinds of cow. Fat is too much a normalfag to produce content on his own, unlike, say, the Gunt. He just happens to have the perfect amount of spergery within him to enthusiastically torpedo his entire existence in a life-and-death battle against Internet windmills, and it's an absolute pleasure to watch. I wouldn't get my hands dirty with him personally, just like with any other cow, but I'm sure as hell not gonna complain when others do so for my amusement. I wasn't even aware OnA existed before the retarded lawsuit, but I'm glad Pat decided to change that because their forum has some of the most genuinely funny people I've ever seen on the Internet (even their local sheboon is funny, which is almost unbelievable given the double negative IQ combo of being both a nigger AND a woman), and the lit crit section is definitely worth reading just for that reason alone; the lore on Extended Fativerse side characters is a cherry on top.
I'm sure they'll all be arrested for the SWATTing (that totally didn't originate from that group of discord fags discussed on the Gunt subforum) any time now though, right after Ralph gets sober and Null finds a woman to mate with.
- Joined
- Mar 31, 2023
@cerulean hydra
What program did you use? I loaded the Twitter logs someone had into NovelAI and was playing around with that a few months back but didn't get any good results from it, this is great.
What program did you use? I loaded the Twitter logs someone had into NovelAI and was playing around with that a few months back but didn't get any good results from it, this is great.
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2022
Honest question: what exactly is the point of posting stuff like that?
Look, the reason the usual Pasposter come here is to laugh at a retard. That's it.
Whenever someone comes heres being annoyingly negative or actively trying to start shit with Owen, the thread comes to a crawl. It becomes useless. And the consequence is simple: those who are here to laugh get tired of it and just fucking leave.
If you compare the beginning of this thread to what it is now they're completely different. Just from the top of my head, there were:
- Science guys having complex discussions exeplaining the awful design errors in Rick's buttplug spacecrafts.
- Dudes with inside knowledge of how much Pat has failed as an author.
- Dudes with extensive Patlore Knowledge who could fill all gaps in Pat's story (just like Tyrone and Bubba will now)
- Dudes who were just plain hilarious.
Can we please agree to stop making this thread unfunny? If the thread is destined to die, then let it happen because Pat made it boring, not because we did.
Anyways, sorry for derailing stuff even more. I won't post shit like this here again. Back to the normal Patposting schedule.
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