Twice now, I’ve received an IM message from “ImplicitTrout”. The first, I ignored. I blocked, and was done with. Alas, that was on my laptop. I just now sign on to IM on my desktop, and low and behold, Mr Trout shows back up.

This caught my interest a little, because random bots usually don’t contact the same person twice, with the same screen name, so.. i asked who it was, and they replied with, “someone who doesn’t want to talk… going to sleep!”

They told me that I had messaged them first, which i clearly did not, and now im intrigued.With a little search, and very few results, i found out that this is actually a bot that takes 2 random screennames found on livejournal or devianrtArt (possibly others) and messages them both with a random phrase. then sends the replies to eachother. it filters out any attempt to tell the other your really screenname, and even the word “bot”

Its an interesting attempt to get two random people to talk to eachother. Keep an eye out for “ImplicitTrout, GeneticTrout, HellishTrout, PetTrout, etc… basically, “<randomword>Trout”

It is a bot, but on the other end is a real person. if you wish to tell the other party your real screen name, space out the letters or wrap it in XX or soemthing to obscure it from the bot’s filter.

you can also point them to this post, or Trout Mystery: Solved « The Chaos Fold

ಠ_ಠ

i see what you did there tonight. fat lady. i ate my dinner, i had my desert, and i walked through the movie line, and didnt stop for more snacks. but you, oh YOU did. and by god you DID. i walked by you and stared as i saw you with your hand in the gigantic-tub-o-popcorn. the tub was only half full, maybe you had eaten some already, spread it out with the family? no, you were alone. you and youre hand, oh my that HAND! the other half of the pop corn, in another giganto-tub. and what were you doing? draining, not drizzeling-casually, i mean you were FUCKING DRAINING the portable cart-o-butter. i took a good minute to pass by you. my jaw dropped, but you didnt notice. you had your hand in that bucket, tossing the kernels, tossing like theres no tomorrow. but the faucet of butter was on full blast and you were just making sure that EVERY KERNEL HAD AT LEAST 4 GALLONS OF BUTTER.

we couldnt believe ourselves at the gluttony you were bathing in. i could see the butter/grease/lard substance covering your entire hand up to your wrist. we moved on, an obvious example of pure american fat-bastard-syndrome had just been witnessed.

i walked to the bathroom, to relieve myself of a rather large shit. i took my sweet time. But damnit, when i came out, you were STILL FUCKING THERE. tossing you corn covered butter away. this was no longer popcorn with butter, this was butter with popcorn in it. damn that popcorn, always fucking up the butter and making a mess. woman, please, for the love of all thats holy, seek help. youre a disgusting fat piece of shit and you need to be restrained from butter. they need to put butter in the witness protection agency, because you will destroy every last ounce of it.

im sure that you sweat butter. you disgust me, you and every other fat-bastard-butter-eating-glutton out there.

oh, and shame on you movie theatre, for capitalizing on this demented woman’s problem.

I don’t know where this came from, but HAH! props to the writer.

MARY: Hi! We’re here to invite you to come kiss Hank’s ass with us.
ME: Pardon me? What are you talking about? Who is Hank, and why would I want to kiss his ass?
JOHN: If you kiss Hank’s ass, he will give you a million dollars; and if you don’t, he will kick the shit out of you.
ME: What? Is this some sort of bizarre mob shake-down?
JOHN: Hank is a billionaire philanthropist. Hank built this town. Hank owns this town. He can do what ever he wants and what he wants is to give you a million dollars, but he can’t until you kiss his ass.
ME: That doesn’t make any sense. Why…
MARY: Who are you to question Hank’s gift? Don’t you want a million dollars? Isn’t it worth a little kiss on the ass?
ME: Well maybe, if it is legit, but…
JOHN: Then come kiss Hank’s ass with us.
ME: Do you kiss Hank’s ass often?
MARY: Oh yes, all the time…
ME: And has he given you a million dollars?
JOHN: Well no, you don’t actually get the money until you leave town.
ME: So why don’t you just leave town now?
MARY: You can’t leave until Hank tells you to or you don’t get the money; and he kicks the shit out of you.
ME: Do you know anyone who kissed Hank’s ass, left town, and got the million dollars?
JOHN: My mother kissed Hank’s ass for years. She left town last year and I’m sure she got the money.
ME: Haven’t you talked to her since then?
JOHN: Of course not, Hank doesn’t allow it.
ME: So what makes you think he will actually give you the money if you have never talked to anyone who got the money?
MARY: Well, he gives you a little bit before you leave. Maybe you will get a raise; maybe you will win a small lotto; maybe you will just find a twenty dollar bill on the street.
ME: What does that got to do with Hank?
JOHN: Hank has certain…connections.
ME: I’m sorry but this sounds like some sort of bizarre con game.
JOHN: But it IS a million dollars. Can you really take the chance? And remember, if you DON’T kiss Hank’s ass he will kick the shit out of you.
ME: Maybe if I could see Hank; talk to him; get the details straight from him… MARY: No one sees Hank. No one talks to Hank.
ME: Then how do you kiss his ass?
JOHN: Sometimes we just blow him a kiss and think of his ass. Other times we kiss Karl’s ass, and he passes it on.
ME: Who is Karl?
MARY: A friend of ours. He’s the one who taught us all about kissing Hank’s ass. All we had to do was take him out to dinner a few times.
ME: And you just took his word for it when he said there was a Hank, that Hank wanted you to kiss his ass, and that Hank would reward you?
JOHN: Oh no! Karl has got a letter Hank sent him years ago explaining the whole thing. Here ia a copy; see for yourself.

John handed me a photocopy of a handwritten memo on - From the desk of Karl - letterhead. There were eleven items listed:

1. Kiss Hank’s ass and he will give you a million dollars when you leave town.
2. Use alcohol in moderation.
3. Kick the shit out of people who are not like you.
4. Eat right.
5. Hank dictated this list himself.
6. The moon is made of green cheese.
7. Everything Hank says is right.
8. Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.
9. Do not drink.
10. Eat your wieners on buns, no condiments.
11. Kiss Hank’s ass or he will kick the shit out of you.

ME: This would appear to be written on Karl’s Letterhead.
MARY: Hank did not have any paper.
ME: I have a hunch that if we checked we would find this is Karl’s handwriting.
JOHN: Of course, Hank dictated it.
ME: I thought you said no one gets to see Hank?
MARY: Not now; but years ago he would talk to some people.
ME: I thought you said he was a philanthropist. What sort of philanthropist kicks the shit out of people just because they are different?
MARY: It’s what Hank wants; and Hank is always right.
ME: How do you figure that?
MARY: Item 7 says - Everything Hanks says is right.- That’s good enough for me!
ME: Maybe your friend Karl just made the whole thing up.
JOHN: No way! Item 5 says, - Hank dictated this list himself.- Besides, item 2 says, - Use alcohol in moderation. - Item 4 says, - Eat right. - And item 8 says, - Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.- Everyone knows *those* things are right; so the rest must be true, too.
ME: But 9 says, - Do not Drink. - which does not quite go with item 2. And 6 says, - The moon is made of green cheese. - which is just plain wrong.
JOHN: There is no contradiction between 9 and 2. 9 just clarifies 2. As far as 6 goes, you have never been to the moon; so you cannot say for sure.
ME: Scientists have pretty firmly established that the moon is made of rock…
MARY: But they do not know if the rock came from the Earth, or from out of space, so it could just as easily be green cheese.
ME: I am not really an expert but I think the theory that the Moon came from the Earth has been discounted. Besides, not knowing *where* the rock came from doesn’t mean it *could* be green cheese rather than rock.
JOHN: Aha! You just admitted that scientists make mistakes, but we know Hank is always right!
ME: We do?
MARY: Of course we do, Item 5 says so.
ME: So, you’re saying that Hank is always right because the list says so; the list is right because Hank dictated it; and we know that Hank dictated it because the list says so.
JOHN: Now you’re getting it! It’s so rewarding to see someone come around to Hank’s way of thinking.
ME: But…Oh, never mind. What’s the deal with the wieners? Mary blushes.
JOHN: Wieners: in buns, no condiments. It’s Hank’s way. Anything else is wrong.
ME: What if I don’t have a bun?
JOHN: No bun, no wiener. A wiener without a bun is wrong.
ME: No relish? No Mustard? Mary looks positively stricken.
JOHN: (shouting): There’s no need for such language! Condiments of any kind are wrong!
ME: So a big pile of sauerkraut with some wieners chopped up in it would be out of the question?
MARY: (sticking her fingers in her ears): I am not listening to this! La la la, la la, la la la…..
JOHN: That is disgusting. Only some sort of evil deviant would eat that…
ME: But it is good! I eat it all the time.
Mary faints. John catches her
JOHN: Well, if I had known you were one of THOSE, I wouldn’t have wasted my time. When Hank kicks the shit out of you, I want to be there.