Renting
We all know renting a flat in the London is the least pleasant thing you can do, but this made it worse.

The GF had gone on holiday leaving me to move all my stuff, and her stuff, into the new flat. Shiny new flat has bedrooms in basement and sitting room upstairs. Lovely. I move in and sit around looking at the chaos of boxes until I decide it's time for an early night. Wake up at night listening to the house creaking. Old houses. I wake up 5 mins later listening to the house creaking. The creaking sounds like footsteps. Bloody upstairs neighbours. I wake up 3 minutes later suddenly realising that the neighbours aren't upstairs. My sitting room is upstairs. I lie very still. All is quiet. I fall asleep. Wake up 1 minute later as my bedroom door opens. Large man in jacket silhouetted in doorway. Me naked in bed. Not happy.

me: Who's there?!
him (in friendly, matter of fact voice): Oh, it's Jack from the flats upstairs. Your door was open when I came back, so I thought I'd see that everything was alright.

And he calmly walks away. I listen for him going upstairs, then closing my front door behind him. I wait 30 seconds and triple bolt the front door. I notice that every lightbulb in the house is on, including the other bedroom and both bathrooms.

Next morning I knock on all my upstairs neighbours' doors. No one called Jack, or anyone matching the description, has ever lived there.

I eventually figure out that the guy must work for the company that does inventories on rented flats, and so has the keys, and knows I only just moved in. Furthermore his very calm, reasonable explanation suggests he's done this a few times before. He obviously gets kicks out creeping around other people's homes. Letting agent informed and locks changed.
(steer, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 18:19, Reply)

Times I've been scared
Yeah, the thread starter only asked for one, but too bad.

1) Much like Melancholica's story, when we were 15 (am now double that) once a friend of mine started fitting, then stopped breathing. Started again a couple seconds later. A minute or two later she stopped breathing a second time, this time for around 5 seconds, before starting again. The third time she stopped, after 30 seconds or so she was still not breathing. So, I began artificial resuscitation, and after a few breaths she started breathing again, and continued to do so until the paramedics arrived. Of course then my other friends who were present started in with "you just wanted to kiss her!" and immature crap like that, which still popped up every now and again for several months.

2) I like airplanes. Last time I tried to count how many flights I've been on, came to over 200. My point is, I am not at all afraid of flying. But one flight...I was going to a job interview, and my flight flew from crappy little college town #1 to c.l.c.t. #2 to c.l.c.t. #3 to Chicago, and then a second plane to Memphis, Tennessee. Now, we were in a Beechcraft 1900, which is a 19-seater propeller plane. The curtain between the passenger cabin and the cockpit was left open, and on the approach to clct #2 there was an awful storm, and the sight of the teeny-tiny little airport's runway bouncing wildly in and out of view through the front window was quite scary. Interestingly, this was a time when Life Was Good...but a few months later, just after getting dumped and near suicidal, I flew in an identical plane with a similarly rough ride, and it didn't phase me, but rather I found it fun.

3) 9 years old, lost in the woods for 4 hours, was very very scared. Came to the banks of a flooded river, broke into a house to use the phone, it was disconnected, so I went out on a high balcony, called to a passing boat for help, ended up just fine.

4) Like others...Silence of the Lambs, alone, pitch black, left dorm room door unlocked, friend sneaked in and scared the crap out of me.

5) One Hallowe'en, also about 15 years old, I thought it would be a good idea to pour gasoline on the outside of my pumpkin and light it. That was not a good idea. A worse idea was leaving the gas can on the same step of my front stoop. Gas can caught on fire, I tried to move it with a stick and dropped it on its side, with flaming gas spewing out. Not good. Luckily the fire was moving away from the house, and after waiting a while I was able to smother it in the yard using trash can lids. Next door was an exchange student who had recently arrived from Scotland...she later said that she knew I had the fire under control, but called the fire department anyway, because she wanted to see an American fire truck.
(chase, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 17:41, Reply)

Death by elephant
Just after I had left university (and was therefore broke) my mate got married in South Africa so a load of us used it as an opportunity for a 2 week holiday out there.

The week before the wedding a bunch of us decided to go on a cut-price safari that basically meant all piling into a tiny Suzuki van (the kind they normally sell sandwiches from) with a guide a drive for around 6 hours north of Durban.

After a night spent in a camp that had no electricity, 1 tap and a bucket shower we drove another 2 hours to the park. When we got the park the warden handed us this leaflet saying the elephants were really pissed off at the moment and were likely to step on you if you got out of your car. The last thing they said to us as we drove off was "DO NOT GET OUT OF YOUR CAR!!!".

The night before had been really stormy and 5 minutes into the park, we saw that the road was blocked with a fallen tree. Either side of the road was a big ditch, beyond which was tall grass, bushes etc. We could see that someone (probably in a 4x4) had driven into the ditch and around the tree before us.

The guide asked whether he thought we should try the same. Me, being the sensible one, pointed out that the van had wheels like a pram but the other spazzes in the van thought that we should go for it.

Funnily enough 1 minute later we were stuck with the wheels whizzing around. "Right, everyone out and push" says the guide. "What about the fucking pissed off elephants?" I say. Again, the spazzers I was with ignored me and jumped straight out. Not wanting to look like a complete wuss, I got out to help.

This was one of the scariest moments of my life. Apart from being squashed by elephants I had visions of Velociraptors jumping out of the bushes just like in Jurassic park and picking us off one by one.

Luckily, and not surprisingly, we were neither stepped on nor eaten and after 10 minutes of pushing and getting caked in mud, we managed to get van back onto the road.
(Tom Jones's Mojo Hasn't had any since, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 17:37, Reply)

continuing a saga...
driving back to work from court this afternoon, and a song came on the radio that sent shivers and chills down my spine. also it made me snarl unexpectedly, like a mascara'd but rabid dog.

it was "clocks" by coldplay. now i loathe that macrobiotic gurning scrawny fool chris martin but he and his bunch of miseries don't usually have this effect on me. what was it? why was i...

eventually i realised - this song is the HOLD MUSIC FOR BRITISH GAS!! ARGH!!!! flashbacks!!!!!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 17:32, Reply)

Ghostwatch
I mean really scared, my younger cousin and I watched it whilst our 2 sets of parents were at the pub. To give context, we had been told "Do not watch this, you will make yourselves frightened and we won't be back til midnight" and my house was opposite the graveyard and the back door was unlocked.
We kept doing that bravura thing where you repeatedly say "No I'm not scared, are you scared?" until it was apparent that we were pooing our pants as we were sat on an armchair together with the dog going "oh my God".
The camera pans back across a childs bedroom where the child has msteriously been covered with scratches and there in the background is Mr Pipes. At this point my cousin starts crying I start screaming and the dog starts barking his head off.
I had to ring my sister at work in different pub and get her to come over, she sent her flat mate who came in through the back of the house causing us to start the crying / screaming /barking thing again.
I was 15, my cousin was 12. My sisters flatmate made us watch it til the end, whilst giving me cigarettes so we could see that they were actors.
I have never trusted Craig Charles or Sarah Greene since. Parky I have forgiven.
(Bezmina, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 17:19, Reply)

To easy
The Tailypo. Had it read to us by some sadistic fuck teacher in the second year of Infants. Weeks of nightmares, incontinence and insomnia.

Almost a quarter of a century later, and Amazon, thinks I, gives me the chance to exorcise some brain demons. And look! It comes with a cute yellow audio cassette!

I reread it earlier this week. Listened to the tape, thus hearing the Tailypo's voice for the first time.

Nightmares? Check.

Isomnia? Yep.

Incontinence? Er...

Really, if you allow a young child to read this book, you are simply evil.
(doran, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 17:18, Reply)

Lake of doom
I used to go and stay with friends in Canada, and their family owned a private mountain lake (yes, I know...)
I was swimming in said lake, whilst my friend was sunbathing on the rocks (no sand, proper mountain lake this was, with trees right down to the water's edge). It was a very deep lake, and although the water was very very clean, it was also very very dark.
As I swam back towards the rocks, this massive beast appeared on my left - big and kind of yellowy-white and very thrashy - Jaws, if you will.
Well, I am a good swimmer, but obviously sharks have the advantage. Never been so heart-stoppingly scared.
Wasn't until I got out the other end that I realised it was only the sheet of water created by me lifting my arm for the next stroke, with the sun shining through it.
Still took me a while to get back in that lake, and have never swum alone in there since!
(Flutterby doesn't give a damn about her reputation, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 17:02, Reply)

Plummet of doom

A few years ago I got into parachuting. Scary enough you might think, but this story is about my last ever jump.
If you've ever seen a war movie and seen soldiers jumping from a plane, you'll see that they are attached to a line.
When they jump out, the line pulls the parachute out of the bag and "boof"! Parachute opens. Floaty, floaty. Nice.

It's the same when you start skydiving as a civilian. You get attached to a line and jump out of a little plane.
As you get better and more confident, you start doing what's called a "dummy pull". You jump out, reach round and pull a fake handle which mimics the one on a real parachute.
The jump master watches and makes sure you're in a stable body position and counting "1000, 2000" etc, and not just flapping your arms and screaming for mother.

And so it was with me. After 6 jumps I had stopped screaming and was (apparently) ready to move on to the next step.
This involves ditching the line. You are basically jumping into oblivion and are responsible for opening your
own parachute. Before you can do this, you have to sign up to be a member of the British Parachute Association and
give them several tenners. I think they've got wind that for many people, this is going to be their last jump so they'd better cash in now.

So up we go in the little plane. "In the door", "Get ready", "Go" !
I jump out. But without the pull of the line to slow you down, believe me, you drop like a fucking stone.

So I manage to pull the cord. Just as I do so, I'm flipped onto my back. Now this is not a good place to be when a parachute is opening. This is
how people get tangled up in parachutes and come down, to use a bit of skydiving parlance, "like a bag of washing".

Now everything slows down to a crawl and I start to feel utter terror welling up within me as 3 things come before my eyes; the sun, my feet and lots of parachute lines.
"This is how I'm going to die" flashed into my brain and I took in the deep breath that would be my final, blood curdling scream.

Then "boof"!
(Jones the Unstoppable Jess Machine, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:59, Reply)

Just now
img391.imageshack.us/img391/9056/arghgh9.jpg
(Alice The Camel is one of the soon to be extinct 1-humped variety, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:57, Reply)

scared, there were brown stuff
I was 14, been to see the exorcist and had to cycle home past the churchyard and....as i pedalled past fast in case the undead came for me: nothing happened....except i was being sucked back into the maw of the undead by their tractor beam of black light.
just after i became conscious of the brown stuff/wave of fear, i realised my chain had come off.

i did once get caught shagging red headed Pat(ricia) in Ipswich on a tombstone by a plod (who at least had the decency to let me finish)
now, that was scary too, but in a different manner.

length? enough to scare shoppers in Spar.
(mickturate if i could be arsed i'd be bored, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:48, Reply)

Long time ago, when I was about 11...
I had a pretty big fear of the paranormal, after reading a few too many ghost books. While at home alone, my sister having gone to her mate's, I was sitting in the living room, I heard a distict cough from upstairs. Aagh, it's a ghost, it's a ghost!!!!!! I panicked and ran outside to stand in the front garden, wondering if I could find my way to my sister's mate's house, though I'd never been to it before, or even knew where it was. Then I noticed the neighbours dog wandering around. 'I know, that'll protect me' I thought, and proceeded to try and coax the dog inside. Didn't work, so I bit the bullet and went back inside to face my fate. And there I saw her...

My sister. She hadn't gone to her mates at all, never even left the house. I don't even know why I thought she had. She was sitting in the living room, wondering what the hell I was doing outside.

Looking back on it, I'm not sure what a coughing ghost could have actually done to me.

Looking back even further, I'm not sure what use the neighbours Jack Russel would have done to a ghost...
(egon spengler, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:35, Reply)

Poltergeist 3
The one with the mirrors.

I was about 7 or 8 when I watched it, and was scared of mirrors for months.

Even now, sometimes I expect to see something other than me in a mirror.
(Grim Jimm makes loud noises at myspace.com/corpsewalking, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:30, Reply)

Last year while on a work thing away from home
There were 6 of us from my department on our annual visit to one of our contractors and we were staying in this old guest house overnight.

By way of background, ever since I got caught up in a fire alarm at 3am on a school trip at the age of 11 (scaring me shitless), I always leave my door unlocked so I can get out easily.

Bad idea on this occasion. At about 4 in the morning, I was fast asleep when suddenly my door swung open and by the light of the hallway, I could see a tall, ugly man standing there. He staggered towards the bed and I could smell the alcohol on him.

I was literally crapping myself by this point. Unfortunately, I also sleep naked so couldn't get out of bed to turn the light on or do anything else!

He came and sat on the side of my bed, not saying a word - he was extremely drunk. I told him I would scream if he didn't leave, but his alcohol-sodden brain just didn't seem to register what I was saying.

I seriously thought I was going to be raped or worse. Thankfully, after about 10 minutes of him just sat on my bed staring at me (and he was very ugly), he left my room.

I leapt up and locked the door after that and slept with the light on for the rest of the night! The manager got a serious talking to the next morning. Apparently there was a building project in the town and a lot of the builders were staying at this place.
(turquoise, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:29, Reply)

Chilled to the bone
I had a self love session once and when I reached my goal I could feel the most massive amount of stuff shooting forward. Awesome I thought, I'm getting good at this. Then I looked down....

Blood in my semen. Lots of it. Lots. My body just went cold. Damn near made my heart stop.

Took me several day before I had the balls (haha I made a funny) to go and get it checked out.

Had the scan and stuff and it turned out to be a burst blood vessel and not cockrot. But it was a while before I was game to test my kit again.

(Strangely, thats the one time I was glad I'd had a pull instead of getting a headjob)
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:26, Reply)

The other day
having just moved into a top floor flat above a row of ictorian shops, I was itching to get into the loft to see what kinds of stuff I could find. Anyway, up I went with a torch, looking around and finding trunks of stuff. Unfortunately, the trunks were empty. However, due to the design of the house I knew that there was a turret area in the loft and I was sure that this either held a WW2 anti aircraft gun or a giant telescope. As I swung my torch round to find the said turret, I noticed that there was a mattress next to it and next tot his mattress was a bucket - a bucket for shitting in after waking up on that mattress! I then noticed aerosol cans on the mattress as well.

As I swung round to get out of the loft, I noticed that the frame work of the roof was not in a pattern, that there was bits of wood and what appeared to be trapdoors where there shouldn't be.

SO I came downstairs and had a cigarette, contemplating what to do when I suddenly heard a crashing coming from up there. Shit I thought, he knows I know he is up there and he is gonna get me. I went and woke up my girlfriend and said to her very quietly "I think there is a man in the loft" and recounted to her exactly what I had seen. I went and got the biggest knife I had from the kitchen, and prepared to face the loft man.

So, I went into the loft and climbed through the various beams, making my way to this bastards mattress. shitting myself I got closer and closer, realising that the mattress was covered in dust and haddened been used for quite a few years.

I also checked out the trapdoors and realised that these were just roof access.

I am much better at scaring people
(Clivicus, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:17, Reply)

the scared becomes the scarer
Was walking home from the bus stop last night when I was scared shitless and jumped like a little girl as I was hit by a raw egg. Looked up to see 2 little punks on the 4th floor of a nearby council estate pointing and laughing, before they scarpered into one of the flats. After the initial shock, and after looking like an idiot just standing there shouting at what now seemed to be no one, I made a mental note of the floor level and flat location in the block, continuing home pissed off and covered in raw egg.

Got home, had cooled down, walked straight to the fridge and took out a 2 litre bottle of milk.

Cool, calm and collected I left the house with the milk, walked back to the scene of the crime, up 4 flights of stairs, and up to the door of my hoodie wearing assailants' getaway.

No prizes for guessing what happened next…

Knocked on the door, which was opened one hoodie # 1. The look on that little biatch's faces a split second before both he and the hallway inside the flat were painted in a fresh coat of cow juice was priceless: pure fear. F*cken love it!

Turned around, still cool, calm and collected and walked back home.

My only regret - not using a cool "Bruce Willis style one liner" just before nailing the bloke




Apologies - only to my flatmate who wasn't able to have weetabix for breakfast this morning.
(Handel blah blah blah, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:17, Reply)

Claus the Mouse!
The Year: 2005

The Place: Leytonstone, London

The Setting: A shared house, the middle of Diwali, a late night, and a bed.

I'd had a few friends round, as I'd just moved in to my shared house in cosmopolitan Leytonstone. We'd had a few beers, and as it was a predominantly Hindu (I think?) neighbourhood, we were watching the Diwali fireworks go off.

Eventually, the freeloaders that I call my friends decided that there was very little point hanging around much longer, as we'd drunk all the booze and everyone was getting a little sleepy.

So off they trundle, and I esconce myself in my bed. As tired as I was, I could not sleep for the constant 'WHIZZ' and 'BANG' of fireworks going off. To top that off, my room backed on to next door's lounge, and they were having a party. To cut it short, I was getting progressively more tired and progressively more cranky.

And then, just as I was drifting off...

rustlerustlerustleSCRATCHSCRATCHrustleSCRATCH

All of a sudden, I'm awake. A-FUCKING-WAKE. Leaping out of bed, I investigate the noise that was eminating from the coridoor. Nothing. BAck to bed, you're being an idiot.

rustleSCRATCHSCRATCHSCRACHrustle

This same pattern goes on for, oh, an hour. I go in to the corridor - nothing. Under the bed, nothing. I end up pleading with this unseen entity:

"Please! I don't know what you want! But please, leave me alone!" (I actually screamed this last part.)

Eventually, I fell asleep on the sofa in the lounge. The next morning, I spoke to a housemate, who had informed me we had a mouse in the house.

In the cold light of day, I worked out the bugger had crawled under my door, and was stuffing its face on an open pack of Dorito's I had left on the floor.

And even though I knew, for the rest of my tenure in the house, that the scratching under my bed was the mouse (he came every night and pulled bits of carpet up for his nest or something) - I was still terrified of the beast under the bed.

There is nothing to fear except fear itself. Rubbish. I fear Mice, and that fucking Derek Acorah.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:04, Reply)

I have a nightmare
that I'll use a cute kitten picture in a pathetic attempt to get people to click 'I like this'.

Oh dear God no, not now, not now...


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:03, Reply)

Rabbits. Hate 'em.
I agree with Rachelswipe -- 'Watership Down' is absolutely fecking terrifying and I am to this day disturbed by cartoon rabbits. No one should see this movie, especially not children.

Almost as frightening was the time my former roomate and I were driving to South Florida and the front left tire of my Honda Accord blew out at 80mph.

There was this loud BANG, then the front of the car hit the road and bounced, tearing off part of my door.

A massive truck had just passed us and I thought for sure we were about to slide into the back of it but I somehow managed to keep control of the car.

I got us across four lanes of traffic and onto the side of the road without further incident but didn't really panic until I actually saw the extent of the damage to the car and realised just how bad it could have been. I was shaking for hours.

Now I drive a Volvo. No more lightweight cars for me!
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:00, Reply)

it was a dark and stormy night!
And I was 15, home alone, and had decided to go to bed early. I had just watched some stupid show on the Travel Channel about the legend of Mothman. I was in that stage when you're barely conscious, about to fall asleep. BANG. Something whacked my bedroom door. I sat up, practically pissing myself. BANG again. I pretty much was having a near panic attack, hidden under my sheets.

Obviously it was some sort of horrible beast coming to get me - maybe the Mothman. After a few more bangs, the beast spoke...

Meow?

Fuck.
Christine doesn't politely scratch at the door when she wants in, like a normal cat would - Instead, she throws herself at it. Bitch.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 15:58, Reply)

Stupidity
In 2005 I went to Buenos Aires for 4 months to learn Spanish. I'd been saving up for ages as I need Spanish for what I'm currently doing (studying Argentine history). I lived in a student hostel with 2 american guys and as I'd only been there for a few days and didnt really speak spanish they showed me around etc.

One day they suggested we go to the Plaza de Mayo (where the Casa Rosada government palace is) and watch the rallies and speeches that were going to be performed for the independence day celebrations (25the May). Ok, fair enough.

We went down on the underground, and walked around a bit, before stopping in front of an agitated man standing on a stage given an impassioned speech. The crowd was pretty ugly looking and was shouting and screaming along with the speaker. I listened for a bit and then it dawned on me what the guy was saying: an impassioned and violent speech advocating death to all British people and the military take over of the Malvinas/Falklands. I shat myself. Here I am, in the middle of a potential lynch mob who would, if they found out where I was from, be incited to do nasty things to me.

Whoops.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 15:52, Reply)

Nose Bleeds...
.....in the shower are easily one of lifes brown moments.

My mind tends to go through the following:
1. Shit of cocking shit my cocks exploded!!!
2. oh MOTHER of GOD help me i'm having a brain HAEMORRHAGE!!
3. fuckety cock rocks!! i was anally raped in my sleep!
4. hang on, i dont believe in god - how can i have stigmata??!!!
5.oh thank the makers of trapdoor, twas just a leaky nose.

toodles.
(hatofjam built a friend out of lego on, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 15:48, Reply)

i was last really scared when
my mini aquaplaned on the M25 driving back from stanstead on a very wet night in January.

losing control of a car at high speeds tends to make my ring pucker.
(magictorch, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 15:44, Reply)

TV Movie
I rememeber watching one of those naff TV Movies when I was about 9. This particular one was about a serial killer offing mid 20s Brunette women in the 1960s. The bit that got me and scared me to my very soul was the pre credits screen at the end which went something along on the lines of '...and the killer was never found!!!!'. I didn't sleep for weeks thinking that I was next. Afterall, I clearly fit his MO - me being a 9 year old boy of indian origin. Not to mention the killer was probably a sprightly OAP by then.
(Dr Platypus ...and his coconuts, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 15:44, Reply)

Watching "Jeepers Creepers"
I'm already a bit freaked out after the truck/car chase scene. The film gets to the bit where the two kids are peering down the big pipe where The Creeper has been dumping the strangely body-shaped packages.

A low frequency thumping starts in the house, the sort that plays hell with the nervous system. I can't bear to watch any more and turn it off.

I go to check the back door is locked and find the sound is coming from a kiddies' disco in the primary school next door. I have been scared out of my wits by Mel and Kim.

Yes, I am a 24-carat, fur-lined, gold-plated, ocean-going wuss.
(rogerzilla, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 15:40, Reply)

I'm scared
of trying to learn the saxophone while standing knee deep in water in an inflatable pool on the lawn of a house that that my friend claims used to belong to Kevin Bacon.

OH GOD NO, IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN!

EDIT: wait - I've just realised the guy that claimed the house belonged to Kevin Bacon isn't really my friend. Phew!
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 15:37, Reply)

Not proud of this one
In my early thirties I was a bit of a party animal - (Fell in with a bad crowd) - Suffice to say I would get shitfaced and have the odd one nigh stand. One night while at a small gathering I started talking to this chap who was a bouncer and nice enough. The wine flowed and I agreed to go home with him. To this day I have no idea why! I like geeks and didn't particulary fancy him. We got to his flat in a high rise block and went inside. The living room consisted of a tatty sofabed and a small gas fire on the wall. For some reason these sparce surroundings sobered me up and I realised that I really didn't want to sleep with him and I was very aware that he wouldn't be happy with this change of heart. I was in a strange flat in a strange area and no-one knew where I was. I have never been so scared in all my life. I told him I wanted to go home and he tried to talk me out of it. He said I didn't have have sex with him - I COULD JUST LIE THERE AND HE WOULD RUB HIMSELF UP ON ME - EWW! - This convinced me even more of my wish to leave and I started crying. The Gods were smiling on my that night because he did the right thing and took my home albeit in a mood. I apologised profusely and went inside.

I tell this tale so that the younger members of this site will think before they end up repeating my mistake and maybe not have such a lucky outcome.

Stay safe!!!
( girlinthehole, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 15:29, Reply)

OH GOD
sorry this post made me piss myself with its big bold title and font
(abignumber, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 14:50, Reply)

I killed baby jesus
There are some really crap groups on facebook (its myspace with stalker feed) and I came across the group "I support the right to choose one element from each set in a collection". This is about the axiom of choice, a somewhat disputed notion on the axioms of set theory. Some people can't accept it, some people can; I do because it's useful.

However, reading the messages on the 'wall' made it clear that I really shouldn't believe in it. The guy's conviction scares me.

Trevor Wilson (Berkeley) wrote:
"The Axiom of "Choice" is a lie and an abomination. "But isn't it convenient to wellorder the continuum?" you may be asking--well, sometimes it may be convenient to kill a foetus, but that doesn't make it right! What to godless liberals is just a "choice" can have serious, unmeasurable consequences! The continuum is a child of God, a living growing being, and to treat it as just another number is profane and unconscionable. Let me tell you about another child of God, one that didn't fit into the hierarchicy of his society. That child was Jesus Christ, and from humble foundations he grew to such great power that he was incomparable to all the cardinals (which back in those days were called Pharisees) and didn't take orderings from anyone. Then, like so many young men of his generation, he was killed by the communists. In conclusion, if you wellorder the continuum then you are basically killing the baby Jesus. Amen to that."

...

Dead baby Jesus...?

...

*fwap*
(mmmkay, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 14:49, Reply)