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The Wait Training Belt is designed to take
at least an hour to fasten or unfasten.
It achieves this objective by having 100
different buckles and fasteners.
Some buckles even have buckles within
them, so that when you undo the first
level, you must then undo the next. The
entire belt
is festooned with
fasteners of every description and degree
of difficulty needed to affect removal and
replacement.
The belt has no useful function other
than to cause the wearer to develop a
deep sense of calm, because they will
otherwise be consumed by total
frustration and rage and begin tearing at
their own flesh.
Any wearer of such a belt thus sends out
the message that they have achieved a
level of enlightenment far beyond that
possible through years of dedicated
meditation. Wait Training Belt wearers
are
therefore an exclusive club, and will
greet each other with conversations
relating to the length of time taken to
put on or remove their trousers or skirts:
"I start putting mine on at 3 am, in time
to leave for work at 8.30" - "I've just had
a combination lock fitted to the back
buckle on mine that takes twenty
minutes to twiddle open" - "I have to use
tweezers and a magnifying glass to undo
the last links on mine."
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I could tell this was one of yours, [xenzag], and it's quietly superb, tapping as it does into one of the weirder but deep psychological quirks of us humans (albeit one previously satisfied in different ways. For example, in this sentence: |
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//The belt has no useful function other than to cause the wearer to develop a deep sense of calm, because they will otherwise be consumed by total frustration and rage and begin tearing at their own flesh.// |
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replace 'The belt' with 'Golf', 'wearer' with 'player', and 'flesh' with 'flesh'). |
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[+] - although I predict bandwagon-jumpers producing a range of cheap "Wait Belts" that just *look* hard to open. |
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Hope you have an incontinence loaf handy. [+] |
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I pictured something like the restraning collars Kirk and Spock wore when captive or the invisible fence dog collar, something that gives one a shock if they act too soon. |
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You could just get a chastity belt and have someone else lock it. Then, you'll have to be patient enough to wait for someone else to unlock it. |
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sighs - removes belt - rests for a while
from Bakery. |
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My god. What the hell is the 1/2 B coming to when a bloody gem like this gets boned. It has everything. It's almost useless, but isn't. It involves zen. What's not to like? |
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Avast at you, you dirty sea dogs! Come out and fight like real bakers, you scurvy wenches! |
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Wear the bones with pride, [xen], but in case you're hungry, here have my bun.
[+] |
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This is, I think, one of my favourite ideas; please don't leave us [xen], it's getting a bit lonely here. |
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[GutsOfCustard] I'm with you and [xen] on this one - but have noticed that (for want of a better word) 'zennish' ideas tend to split the 'bakery populace straight down the middle. |
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And perhaps (in terms of the underlying cosmic sense of things) a true balance of bun versus bone is a fitting overall judgement. It shows us that the idea transcends the dualistic labels of good vs bad; it simply is. |
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An idea can ask for no greater honour than this. Anything more is (as the great crash of Ought Four teaches us) nothing but fleeting illusion, shapes formed by sunbeams sifted through the branches of a cherry tree. |
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in the cherry tree,
sunlight sparkling on buckles,
the Training Belt hangs |
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can I order five or six for my boyfriend? I could like, use them not only to keep his trousers on him, but I could use them like to chain him to things if we get in fights. Then he can't follow me anywhere for at least a few hours, giving us both time to cool off and me time to get a full spa treatment and even tan. |
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[Tom_of zenlike_inclination] I am at one with the notion of a pure balance of the bun-ying and the bone-yang, however my soul is uneasy. |
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Of seven boners, narry a one was worthy of venturing comment in explanation of their crass dissaproval. |
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For was it not the great bhudda himself that said |
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give me your buns and your bones but at least have the balls to explain them. |
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NB Bhudda may or may not have actually said that. Go on, prove that he didn't. |
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*tries to disprove [custardguts]* |
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