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28 Rambling Topics - page 1 of 2 pages [NEXT] | 1 2 |
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shows
the ones i could find:
http://randygoat.com/audio/archives/12-28-11RGR.mp3
http://randygoat.com/audio/archives/12-25-11RGR.mp3
http://randygoat.com/audio/archives/12-18-11RGR.mp3
http://randygoat.com/audio/archives/12-10-11RGR.mp3
http://randygoat.com/audio/archives/12-07-11RGR.mp3
http://randygoat.com/audio/archives/11-30-11RGR.mp3
i don't care if there's a show description
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Thursday, December 29 2011
4 Replys |
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baking day today
baking day today...
baking is just like brewing...if you can't brew you can't bake
BASIC NO-KNEAD 'BUG BREAD'
in a large plastic bowl:
sprinkle one yeast packet over 2 cups water in the bowl (or use 2 cups of beer and a pinch of sugar), then go do something else for a half hour or so - i usually leave the bowl in the turned-off oven as it is safer, there are no drafts or dust and the cat can't knock it over or whatever
when you come back, the mixture should look like a justin beiber diarrhea shit - all creamy and a little bit yellow, and maybe a just little bit gassy too
add one tablespoon of oil, one tablespoon of honey, one teaspoon of sugar, and one teaspoon of salt - i use the sugar to give the yeast something to do while they get through the honey's shields or whatever, like when making honey mead, as honey is a bitch to get started fermenting - give it a couple of stirs and go do something else for an hour or so
when you come back, it should look like a really gassy and bubbling tim shit - give it a stir and add five (5) cups of ALL-PURPOSE flour (not self-rising flour as the sodium kills the yeast) - mix to form a thick sticky dough - be sure to mix well and get in all the flour, then leave it and go do something else for an hour at least
when you come back it should be a samsquanch monster in the bowl, all risen and puffy with the yeast working like a 'mad thing' - punch it down, take what you need of the dough and refrigerate the rest in the bowl with a tight-fitting lid for up to a week (don't freeze it as that will kill the yeast)
make 2-3 inch smooth balls (4-7 cm), putting them on a baking sheet as far from each other as possible - leave them to rise for at least an hour, then bake at 350 for around 15 minutes
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Thursday, August 18 2011
0 Replys |
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Captain Blueballs
Captain Blueballs
"Oh the pirate's life is never grand"
"Cap-tain cap-tain"
"But at least me dick is in me hand"
"Cap-tain cap-tain"
"Not stuck on dry land planted in a park"
"Cap-tain cap-tain"
"And not in the belly of some toothy shark!"
"Aaarrrrrp!"
"First Mate! Bring me my cabin boy!"
"He's jumped ship captain!"
"Then what's a Pirate to do?"
"How about old Fitch?"
"That one-eyed scurvy lass? Ah no, i'd rather fuck a shark,and it would be less painful in the end!"
"There's the quartermaster at the port. You've always said you like fucking him."
"I thnk you've gone adrift there son. Not the same thing at all, no, not at all."
"Then what?"
"Get below and see if cook has a big fish like the one he cooked last night, dress it up like me cabin boy and bring it to me in my cabin!"
"Aye Aye Captain, but you know we'll have to eat that fish tonight!"
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Tuesday, August 9 2011
2 Replys |
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uh oh (complete)
Detective Sargent Sam Adams groaned and held his stomach, crop-dusting Detective Roberts with a purple cloud of vomity corruption as the younger detective pulled something angular from the lake to the shore. They looked at the bicycle lying half in and half out of the water where Roberts had dragged it. Sam groaned again. It was an instrument of torture! Where the comfortable seat had once been, somebody had rammed a large black fleshy dildo, still standing stridently upwards with only a slight bend to show the damage the bicycle had received. Sam puked, bits of a green breakfast flying all over the place! "Jesus Christ, Sam!", gagged the younger Roberts as he turned green himself, "you're ruinin' all the evidence!". Sam hurled again, coating both his shoes with a sticky phlegm, inwardly aghast and still heaving at what Downtown would soon be calling "The Randy Goat Radio Murders". Roberts, insides heaving, spun around to avoid ruining the evidence himself, and puked all over Detective Banes who had just walked up.
Detective Banes stood gasping and fuming, a drop of vomit dangling from the end of his nose. He was a hardened veteran of three wars and has seen plenty of puke in his day, and an easy remedy was at hand. He passed the hunched and hurling men and walked out into the water of the lake from whence had come the bicycle, finally loosing his footing and sitting down heavily with the water coming up to his chest. He ducked under the water to rinse himself off completely, and as he did so his foot struck something soft lying on the bottom of the lake. Cleaning himself the rest of the way, Detective Banes grasped the soggy bundle and pulled it to the surface. It was an arm. "Uh-oh! Hey look at this.", said the Detective, and pulled at the arm to dislodge it from the sticky mud. There was a head, and then a leg, and then another arm. When the others saw it they helped Banes drag the body to the shore. It stank like stale shit, and on smelling it, Sam began to gag again, and dry-heaved over the corpse. They searched the body, pulling a sodden passport from the mud-pie that was the victim's rear pocket. "Foreigner.", said Banes, "from Australia. Name's 'Paul Holmes". "Victim's rear been torn out. Something fierce by the look of it.", said Roberts. "Then why is he smiling?", asked Banes with a smirk.
Only a few days later, a body lay slumped over the keyboard of a computer, quite dead. Empty cans of energy drinks were strewn everywhere, and the cryptic message "raven" was the only thing on the computer screen. The body was dressed in sweatpants and wore a t-shirt. The entire ass of the person was missing as if torn out, and a huge pile of shit and blood had accumulated on the floor under the body. Detective Banes, if he wasn't shaved bald, would have pulled his hair out. The clues, such as they were, lead nowhere. There was a link between the two corpses, although a tenuous one. The body slumped over the computer was wearing a t-shirt, and on that t-shirt was printed "I got cock-slapped by Paul Homes".
Banes pulled himself together, absent-mindedly rubbing at the two-day stubble of beard. He had discovered the radio show connected to the t-shirt once they had rolled over the body of the Australian. He had checked out the internet website that went along with the radio show, and was thoroughly dismayed at the number of people he would have to contact and check out. It had to be one of the listeners. Then there was the live stream of the show that may have even had more listeners. Other reports came in. Warnings were sent to the remaining hosts and guests of the show. "Somebody's got it in for these kinky brats.", said Banes.
In the basement of a house that was set up as a radio studio, Mr. Pres lay stretched out on the floor almost like he had passed out drunk. There was a movement in the room, a shifting and stirring blackness that hopped and bobbed as it approached the supine body. A screech came from the creature as it beat itself against the windows in a vain attempt to get back outside after it had completed the grim task set it. Tim, another randy goat radio host, had met the fetid creature that tried so to escape, and there were maggots visible in the pile of shit that still dribbled from his ripped-out asshole. None had survived the viscous attack of the thing. Even Dicky Crooks, who had thought himself safe by distance from the terror, had not survived the purge, his colon dangling from his blasted rectum like a parody of a Linguisa sausage. Everyone who was frequently on the show lately was dead except one who had only been ass-blasted and barely survived, now fused to a hospital bed.
It appeared that some others were too far distant for the perpetrator of the deadly tide to reach them. Moomoocow was in Iraq, Stormy was in Canada. Lord Humongous was in Australia. Those on distant shores were still all fine and well, this blight only reaching across the contiguous United States. Also, this whole affair had been apparently precipitated by Paul Holmes coming to America. "Who did it!!??!!", thought Banes He needed sleep, a beer and a shower, in that order.
The telephone rang. Mr. Pres had regained consciousness and was back at home. Of all the radio show people, he was the only one that had lived through the attack of the creature. "He might know something.", said Banes, and putting off the beer and shower, tried to sleep on the airplane. Mr. Pres sat before the computer, glancing furtively at the Detective. Banes questioned him easily enough at first, but when the answers he was given didn't seem to add up, Banes began to get pissed off. At a final sarcastic "Did Ya?" given in response to one of his statements, Banes turned red and whipped Mr. Pres around in his swivel chair toward the computer screen. He quickly produced a pair of handcuffs and pinned M. Pres into the chair. Some mouse click later, Mr.Pres struggled vainly as his tormentor smiled an evil smile. "A couple hours of Death By Horsecock should break this guy", laughed Banes. At first, his prisoner struggled, but them became limp, and Banes finally swung the chair around to face him. He blew a long stream of cigarette smoke into the blank staring eyes of his prisoner. The eyes lost their glazed look, and Mr. Pres snarled curses at his interrogator. Then Mr. Pres slowly told the story of the giant black bird with the dildo beak that obeyed whomever gave it bread smeared with Nutella. "I was short of material!!!", screamed Mr. Pres, "The show eats material, and we've been on ten years." The Detective, nodding his understanding, unlocked the handcuffs and picked up the jars of Nutella and shoved them in a box, leaving Mr. Pres a free man. "I've got some use for that bird myself", winked the Detective as he strode out the door.
The End
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Tuesday, June 7 2011
0 Replys |
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uh-oh 2
Banes pulled himself together, absent-mindedly rubbing at the two-day stubble of beard. He had discovered the radio show connected to the t-shirt once they had rolled over the body of the Australian. He had checked out the internet website that went along with the radio show, and was thoroughly dismayed at the number of people he would have to contact and check out. It had to be one of the listeners. Then there was the live stream of the show that may have even had more listeners. Other reports came in. Warnings were sent to the remaining hosts and guests of the show. "Somebody's got it in for these kinky brats.", said Banes.
In the basement of a house that was set up as a radio studio, Mr. Pres lay stretched out on the floor almost like he had passed out drunk. There was a movement in the room, a shifting and stirring blackness that hopped and bobbed as it approached the supine body. A screech came from the creature as it beat itself against the windows in a vain attempt to get back outside after it had completed the grim task set it. Tim, another randy goat radio host, had met the fetid creature that tried so to escape, and there were maggots visible in the pile of shit that still dribbled from his ripped-out asshole. None had survived the viscous attack of the thing. Even Dicky Crooks, who had thought himself safe by distance from the terror, had not survived the purge, his colon dangling from his blasted rectum like a parody of a Linguisa sausage.
Everyone who was frequently on the show lately was dead except one who had only been ass-blasted and barely survived, now fused to a hospital bed, It appeared that some others were too far distant for the perpetrator of the deadly tide to reach them. Moomoocow was in Iraq, Stormy was in Canada. Lord Humongous was in Australia. Those on distant shores were still all fine and well, this blight only reaching across the contiguous United States. Also, this whole affair had been apparently precipitated by Paul Holmes coming to America. "Who did it!!??!!", thought Banes
He needed sleep, a beer and a shower, in that order. The telephone rang. Mr. Pres had regained consciousness and was back at home. Of all the radio show people, he was the only one that had lived through the attack of the creature. "He might know something.", said Banes, and putting off the beer and shower, tried to sleep on the airplane. Mr. Pres sat before the computer, glancing furtively at the Detective. Banes questioned him easily enough at first, but when the answers he was given didn't seem to add up, Banes began to get pissed off. At a final sarcastic "Did Ya?" given in response to one of his statements, Banes turned red and whipped Mr. Pres around in his swivel chair toward the computer screen. He quickly produced a pair of handcuffs and pinned M. Pres into the chair. Some mouse click later, Mr.Pres struggled vainly as his tormentor smiled an evil smile. "A couple hours of Death By Horsecock should break this guy", laughed Banes. At first, his prisoner struggled, but them became limp, and Banes finally swung the chair around to face him. He blew a long stream of cigarette smoke into the blank staring eyes of his prisoner. The eyes lost their glazed look, and Mr. Pres snarled curses at his interrogator. Then Mr. Pres slowly told the story of the giant black bird with the dildo beak that obeyed whomever gave it bread smeared with Nutella. "I was short of material!!!", screamed Mr. Pres, "The show eats material, and we've been on ten years." The Detective, nodding his understanding, unlocked the handcuffs and picked up the jars of Nutella and shoved them in a box, leaving Mr. Pres a free man. "I've got some use for that bird myself", winked the Detective as he strode out the door.
The End
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Tuesday, June 7 2011
0 Replys |
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Randy Goat Fan Lives !
Happy 10th Anniversary Randy Goat Radio !
I tried to send an email to Mr Pres, but didn't get a response.
I tried to login to my old Username, but alas no Lost Password feature.
Fukkin Pekka
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Tuesday, June 7 2011
9 Replys |
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uh, oh!
Detective Sargent Sam Adams groaned and held his stomach, crop-dusting Detective Roberts with a purple cloud of vomity corruption as the younger detective pulled something angular from the lake to the shore.
They looked at the bicycle lying half in and half out of the water where Roberts had dragged it.
Sam groaned again.
It was an instrument of torture!
Where the comfortable seat had once been, somebody had rammed a large black fleshy dildo, still standing stridently upwards with only a slight bend to show the damage the bicycle had received.
Sam puked, bits of a green breakfast flying all over the place!
"Jesus Christ, Sam!", gagged the younger Roberts as he turned green himself, "you're ruinin' all the evidence!".
Sam hurled again, coating both his shoes with a sticky phlegm, inwardly aghast and still heaving at what Downtown would soon be calling "The Randy Goat Radio Murders".
Roberts, insides heaving, spun around to avoid ruining the evidence himself, and puked all over Detective Banes who had just walked up.
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Monday, June 6 2011
3 Replys |
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New Members?
All these "new" signups on our little site seem very suspicious...if someone out there is signing up bogus email addresses and usernames to this site, I will jam a live, fully grown chicken up their ass.
Bock bock, motherfucker.
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Wednesday, June 1 2011
3 Replys |
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Hello LollyYumColors is bad!
Yes! Welcome I to the Goat That is Randy, and a Thousand Adorations to Good People! I am listener from Gambia Which Is smallest Africa country where we are Muslims and Pray! In my town we have library with Internet that is Not known to Imam and we like to Party Harty! Hey! I am graduate Student at Polytechnic Banjul which is with I and even 12 others! To learning Architecture is my Matric, and doing this is to earn as much as several dollars in each day, and living is Good in Gambia! Randy Goat is Hooray American and listening is for it and I Hope Imam Does Not Kill I!
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Thursday, May 19 2011
3 Replys |
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Yea, it itches, so fuck off!
So I'm standing there ya know, and I get one of those deep starfish itches. so i get to scratchin' and realize its deeper than I thought. but I can't stop now! feels so good to get in there and get it, knuckle deep in there I finally hit the mark, ahhhh!! than I notice this bitch staring!! what the hell! Why are people in the grocery store are so nosey! why can't they mind thier business! so I pull my stink finger out and it is loaded, looked like a crayon. So I go over wipe my finger on the potatoes and yell nosey bitch!! and the cops say I did something wrong!! WTF!
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Saturday, April 30 2011
0 Replys |
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I am velly glad to be here!
Hi folks, Ron Dree with ya! Hey, you know? It's funny...ever since my tragic wok-frash incident, my "covering" (can't really carr it SKIN, now can we?) has been itching me rike mad. When I move, it sounds rike somebody getting up from a reather couch. Clazy! I suddenry have a hankering for seaweed and Benji. In the name of George Takei, prease lop my head off with a ninja sword. C'mon, help a guy out, you round-eyed faggots!
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Thursday, April 21 2011
1 Replys |
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Oh the joy!
It is so lovely to finally be able to sign on the site and ahit, piss and lactate on all you lovelies.
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Saturday, April 16 2011
3 Replys |
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the end of bug house gold
20 cd's, that's 20 hours of kickass alternative music, admittedly from the darker side of alternative - needless to say, if you spin on down the dial to the supposedly 'alternative' fm 'formatted bullshit' station, you ain't ever going to hear this stuff!!!
on to other things - i may do some more later on, but this series based on the old nasty black cassettes is complete!!!
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Tuesday, April 5 2011
0 Replys |
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Website Changes
Can anyone think of anything that they want to see or have changed or added to the website?
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Saturday, March 26 2011
2 Replys |
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'secret thingy' contest (new, fixed and all better)
the first person to correctly identify the one unannounced song (yeah i fucking missed one) in bughousegold10 wins a 'secret thingy'
put your answer as a reply to this thread here on this message board
the winner will be announced on the show saturday april 16th, the day after tax day
a) i do not know the exact name of the thing, well, only generally
b) it is made of plastic
c) it makes noise when you push the button to turn it on
d) it takes batteries
bullshit: contest available to both live and replay listeners -- contest ends when the first person correctly identifies the one song on bughousegold10 that "DJ TiTS" does not identify, and posts it here on this messageboard as a reply to this thread -- if you are anal or difficult, the decision of the randy goat crew as judges is final forever and you may get cockslapped a lot -- there are two of the items so i still get one -- winner gets to say 'left hand numb means hello stranger' as a cellphone ringtone -- consolation prize is a horribly warped blue-vinyl OMD 'Pretending To See The Future' record from the 80's that somebody didn't store properly -- more contests may happen if the listeners post shit about it on this message board -- that is all, look away now
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Friday, March 25 2011
2 Replys |
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'secret thingy' contest
the first person to correctly identify the one unannounced song (yeah i fucking missed one) in bughousegold10 wins a 'secret thingy'
put your answer as a reply to this thread - right here on this message board
the winner will be announced on the show saturday april 16th, the day after tax day
a) i do not know the exact name of the thing, well, only generally
b) it is made of plastic
c) it makes noise when you push the button to turn it on
d) it takes batteries
bullshit:
contest available to both live and replay listeners - contest ends when the first person correctly identifies the one song on bughousegold10 that "DJ TiTS" does not identify, and posts it here on this messageboard as a reply to this thread - if you are anal or difficult, the decision of the randy goat crew as judges is final forever and you may get cockslapped a lot - there are two of the items so i still get one - winner gets to say 'left hand numb means hello stranger' as a cellphone ringtone - consolation prize is a horribly warped blue-vinyl OMD 'Pretending To See The Future' record from the 80's that somebody didn't store properly - more contests may happen if the listeners post shit about it on the message board - that is all, look away now
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Friday, March 25 2011
2 Replys |
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