Can someone make me a Fight Club themed sig? I want it have a whole of text with quotes from the movie as background and my name in the foreground in the corner. I would also like the text colored like the red-pinkish soap from the movie.
Here is the text I want there to be, but if it is not readable, because it's too large and the letters too small, let me know to how many characters you suggest I have to limit it to:
This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time. I am Jack's wasted life. We're consumers. We are the byproducts of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don't concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy's name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra. Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing. Every time the plane banked sharply on takeoff or landing, I prayed for a crash, or midair collision, anything. Life insurance pays triple when you die on a business trip. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. You are not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. How much can you know about yourself if you've never been in a fight? I'm Jack's Wasted Life. I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all those French beaches I'd never see. I wanted to breathe smoke. I felt like destroying something beautiful. I'm Jack's Raging Bile Duct. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else. I am Jack's complete lack of surprise. You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you, never wanted you, in all probability he hates you. It's not the worst thing that could happen. When the fight was over, nothing was solved, but nothing mattered. We all felt saved. I'm Jack's Cold Sweat. I want you to hit me as hard as you can. You had to give it to him: he had a plan. And it started to make sense, in a Tyler sort of way. No fear. No distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide. In Tyler we trusted. I'm Jack's Inflamed Sense of Rejection. It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything. I felt sorry for the guys packing into gyms, trying to look like Calvin Klein and Tommy Hilfiger said they should. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom. You can swallow a pint of blood before you get sick. After fighting, everything else in your life got the volume turned down. The things you own end up owning you.
Thanks in advance