When I was a kid Joanna Newsom would have been the ideal girl for me. If we had been in school together I would have always tried to get the seat next to hers in biology class so we could laugh and giggle at anatomy diagrams, or I would stand behind her in the lunch queue to smell her golden locks, or even give up my space in the lunch queue so she could get the best choice of chicken breast. I would have tried to look deep and thoughtful by frowning a lot and growing a fuzz moustache and scratching ironic cries for help in to my desk. She would no doubt have spurned my somewhat creepy and stalker-like advances with just as much indifference as she would have spurned my chivalrous actions as she would have been, on the evidence of Ys, far too deep a thinker for my teenage brain, fascinated rather than amused by anatomy, and ironic and funny without having to pretend.

She would have been my kind of gal because she was beautiful in a non-threatening way, highly original in her thought process, creative, alternative, smart, and so cute you could almost commit the accidental crime of squeezing all of the life out of her with overbearing affection. Had I been a more interesting, original and talented guy and did not come across in the least bit creepy, then perhaps, had we ever met (I must remember that this is pure fantasy), she might have let me be her boyfriend and then a few years later when she recorded her masterpiece, Ys, I could have had the honour of performing the baritone male vocal accompaniment part on "Only Skin" which, due to it's tumbling and vibrant nature, is my personal highlight on this record which is packed full of highlights, so packed, in fact, that there is no room for choruses or traditional song structures as we were used to on The Milk-Eyed Mender. Instead we are treated to unravelling musical fairy tales which possess an undercurrent of the nightmarish world of Louis Carrol or the Brother's Grimm as the line between adolescence and adulthood is heartbreakingly blurred.

However, had Joanna and I met and fallen in love then it could not have been guaranteed that she would have ever recorded such a colossal record as this as, according to Doc Emmit Brown, the space/time continuum would have been disrupted and I may have dragged her down into my sad little life and not allowed her to follow the path of magic and wonder which she must have taken to invent the world in which the stories which comprise Ys take place in. I find it hard to imagine Joanna sitting down and having a normal breakfast of cereal; her music makes me presume that she runs through endless fields of corn causing butterflies to flee ahead of her skipping body as she gathers cereal and wheat with which to make bread through some magic process involving a nice equivalent of a cauldron. I hate to think that at night she relaxes in front of the television; I assume, by listening to her music, that she is no doubt out after dark, her path lit by glowing fire flies, gathering moon beams in a basket. She does not lie in bed and frolic with some hairy man who falls asleep after he has released his desire into her; she stays up all night and tells stories to the animals who gather in hushed wonder in the collected moonlight she leaves outside of her window.

No, had I ever met and seduced a young Joanna it is highly possible that none of these images would seem even remotely possible; the normality would overpower the magic as it inevitably does, and the world would have lost a precious gem. And for not depriving the world of that, I should be thanked.

The boot prints are firmly laid down with force. Nancy 'n' sneering Dave "The General" Mustaine walk all over J.S.

KNOCK IT BACK!

DAMN! I thought only Knockout was allowed to shut down fools like this!!

KNOCK IT BACK!

Hiya! I’m Star, from Louisiana and I’m giving it one more chance to hopefully find a loving caring Daddy to take care of me.

I am: - 32, 5’7”, 305 lbs, curvy and plump with dark brown hair and eyes. The weight is a work in progress - I’m working on being stronger and fitter (and could really use a Daddy to help keep me on task!) - a nerd. Harry Potter, Doctor Who, MCU, Sailor Moon... there’s tons of geeky stuff I’m into! Between board games, video games, anime, movies, music, and tv shows I like, we’ll probably have lots of things in common if you’re a nerd too - Cuddly and affectionate. I thrive on hugs and snuggles, and can never get enough. Plus playing with my hair is an instant way to make me melt. - Inexperienced yet very curious to explore lots of new things. If we click and I open up to you, you might just be surprised at how kinky I can be - Introverted yet friendly and outgoing. I’m just as fine going out to festivals and going dancing as I am staying at home and watching a movie. But too much going out and I’ll need time to recharge. - Fun! Or at least I hope you think so. Some of my main hobbies include: reading, video games, running, hiking/camping, writing/drawing, plus more that I kind of dabble in as the mood hits. On my little side, I love stuffies, legos, everything Disney, park days, pacis/sippys, and cozy blankets

You are: - Ideally between 23-40 years old. However this is NOT a firm limit, so if you’re a year or two outside this, and you think you fit the rest, then message me! - Willing to be patient. I think differently (Asperger’s and ADD) and have rough times (depression and anxiety), as well as being burned before by wannabe ‘daddies’. Given time, I will open up to you and be the bubbly, wild, goofy little I am, but at first I will most likely be a little hesitant and shy. - Open to things becoming serious. I don’t want something casual, I don’t want just sex and kink. I want something long-term with the possibility of becoming serious and moving to irl. I’d also like to be your only one. I’ve got a lot of love and affection to give and I’d like it if Daddy’s attention wasn’t split between me and someone else (exceptions obviously made if Daddy has kid(s) already)

There may be other things I would like you to be/like from you, but a) I can’t put them into words at this moment, and b) those are the major ones up there. I really really hope I can find the right Daddy for me this time, so if you’re interested, please do message me with a little bit about yourself and why you think you’d be a good Daddy for me. Bonus if you tell me your favorite color!

tl;dr - I know my age, my body size/shape, and my atypical personality might work against me, but I have a lot of love and affection to give the right Daddy, and plenty of new things to explore with him, if he’ll take the time and give me a chance.

She'll hurt you, boy!

If I was a Caesar salad, the croutons would be my friends, the lettuce would be my family and the dressing itself would be my mom," Garnett said. "Because you can have the lettuce and the croutons, and it can be called a Caesar, but until you have the dressing and it actually tastes like a Caesar. . . ."

"Now Cobb salad," Garnett continued, "that’s a different story. If I was a Cobb salad, my wife is the lettuce…no, sorry, my daughter is the lettuce. My wife is the bacon strips. My friend Steve is the avocado. Cassell and Ty Lue are each a grape tomato. Tom Gugliotta is the chives and also the hardboiled egg. All my childhood pets are the cheese. And my mom is the Caesar dressing. I ask for Caesar dressing on my Cobb salads."

Gotta get that Caesar.

moneywise3 wrote: ↑
Sun Dec 16, 2018 2:12 am
How can someone spend 250k a year in living expenses?

Made me think and do some math.
We spend 2k on gas, and electricity each, 3k on phone, 8k on disability, 6k on insurance
2k on car, 650 on HOA, county tax of 5k
Car once every 10 year = 50G OR 5 G per year
So this is roughly 35k/year minimum
Rest is eating out, vacation, shopping.
No mortgage.

Maybe I/we need to spend more but there is no way I can see use spend 250k per year!
What am I missing?
(Just curious if my calculations are wrong and in no way trying to shame anyone)




For me: We spend around $15k/year at our Country Club (maybe more), $12k/year to board my daughter's horse, and $15K/ year for son's football/baseball lessons including 2 week boarding at IMG Academy in the summer. That doesn't include my S550 and wife's $80k Lincoln Navigator, $13k of property taxes on our $800k house-----restaurants, vacations, etc etc. Life ain't cheap!

moneywise3 wrote: ↑
Sun Dec 16, 2018 2:12 am
How can someone spend 250k a year in living expenses?

Made me think and do some math.
We spend 2k on gas, and electricity each, 3k on phone, 8k on disability, 6k on insurance
2k on car, 650 on HOA, county tax of 5k
Car once every 10 year = 50G OR 5 G per year
So this is roughly 35k/year minimum
Rest is eating out, vacation, shopping.
No mortgage.

Maybe I/we need to spend more but there is no way I can see use spend 250k per year!
What am I missing?
(Just curious if my calculations are wrong and in no way trying to shame anyone)




For me: We spend around $15k/year at our Country Club (maybe more), $12k/year to board my daughter's horse, and $15K/ year for son's football/baseball lessons including 2 week boarding at IMG Academy in the summer. That doesn't include my S550 and wife's $80k Lincoln Navigator, $13k of property taxes on our $800k house-----restaurants, vacations, etc etc. Life ain't cheap!

https://pics.me.me/kanye-west-t-follow-kanye-west-food-200-data-150-3862181.png

Well hello there and welcome to my little corner of the internet. In this wall of text you are about to read you are going to learn somethings about me. Like how I'm 28, I'm six feet five inches tall, how that I am heavy enough to have to worry about blowing over in a stiff breeze. You might learn that I'm a soul stealing ginger that enjoys the delectable taste of souls in the morning. I can't promise you a completely true piece of writing because lets face it... I think I'm pretty awesome so there might be a slight bias towards that eventuality. So let me just round off this introduction that it is my very great honor to meet you and you may call me Karl.

So then lets get down to what makes me.... well me. I am driven by curiosity and logic. I enjoy intellectual debates. Quandaries of philosophy and the meaning of life eat up a lot of my though process when I'm doing menial work that doesn't require my full attention. I talk to myself, I enjoy reading, watching movies, 4x4ing, snowboarding, shooting my bow/gun, cuddling, road trips, music, video games, wrestling, drinking, farming, being my quasi own boss. Pretty much if its fun I'm down, I like to have a good time. The Flip side to this being what I dislike in general is hypocrisy, flakiness, unreliability, laziness, people who use others, no common sense, judges, superficial/material... If there is anything else when i think of it I'll let ya know.

So as you can see I'm just about two people slammed together a dichotomy if you will. I have the outdoor go play and have fun side of me, I also have the sit at home watch movies or play games nerdy side. So whats this mean, well it means that I'm extremely well rounded and again I'm down for whatever someone whats to do. Now ladies here is a bit of advice for you, If i ask you what you'd like to do for a date and you say you don't care I can decide I might just pick the nerdiest damn thing I can just to see if you'll stick around. If I ask its because I honestly want your opinion on the matter. (If you can't tell I'm a bit of a smart ass as well ) (Oh and sarcastic too!)

So to cap this all off and let you get back to your regularly scheduled lives before your old and grey I'll reiterate a few points. I'm 28, I'm tall, I am a big guy (I'm not chiseled from stone, but if you think that I'm lazy or out of shape you might just be mistaken), I farm for a living, I live in the middle of nowhere.

So go ahead and say hello, or I might say hello to you. If you do talk to me you won't get any "hey baby's" or "Sup sexy" I won't ask for naked pictures, I won't ask for sex. I'll actually talk to you like your a person, not a set of walking boobs. Who knows maybe we will hit it off, or maybe you'll just make a new friend... Either way thanks for reading and maybe I'll talk to ya later

PUT THIS WARNING ON YOUR PROFILE PEOPLE. WARNING: Any institutions using this site or any of its associated sites for studies or projects - You do NOT have my permission to use any of my profile or pictures in any form or forum both current and future. If you have or do, it will be considered a serious violation of my privacy and will be subject to legal ramifications.

See you in court, Mr. Bender.

(Oh and sarcastic too!)

Apparently WWI-My Little Pony blogs exist and now I’m angry.
Not only is that both disturbing and baffling to me, putting cartoon horses in war uniforms, it’s incredibly disrespectful to all the very real people, and yes, horses, who had horrific experiences in the War. No war is a game, so either you’re making the war some silly fun for your star-butted pals or you enjoy seeing cartoon ponies mangled and murdering each other - I’m not entirely sure which is worse.

Either way, I’m letting it be known that my content is not for reblogging on any kind of blog like that. If I find out you did so, like happened today, I will block you so you cannot take any more of the photos of real, brave men and prop them up as a pony backdrop. The same goes for furries, other kinds of cartoon animals, etc.

There are lots of places for your weird little animals to play dress-up. Leave the Great War alone.

There are lots of places for your weird little animals to play dress-up. Leave the Great War alone.

Polega, John C. 8/18/1929 - 6/9/2015 Walker Always known for his strength and determination, John C. Polega did it his way and passed away peacefully on the morning of June 9, 2015. As an Army Corp foreman or City of Grand Rapids Traffic Engineering Supervisor, John operated with a full deck to the very end. While in their home of 60 years, he cashed in his chips for the final time with his devoted wife Jackie by his side. As he waits patiently for Jackie to join him, his surviving daughters, Toni (and Butch) Payne, along with Tracy (and Lyndon) Greeley continue to abide by his wishes and lovingly carry on with his lifetime commitment of caring for their mother. With few friends and family left behind, he wearily folded from bone cancer; leaving several grandchildren, great grandchildren and nieces and nephews. Born August 18, 1929, John rolled the dice as a long-term winner, played the odds and crapped out in his own time. Along with some lucky dice, he resides in Paradise Township, Evergreen Cemetery, Kingsley, Michigan.

Polega, John C. 8/18/1929 - 6/9/2015 Walker Always known for his strength and determination, John C. Polega did it his way and passed away peacefully on the morning of June 9, 2015. As an Army Corp foreman or City of Grand Rapids Traffic Engineering Supervisor, John operated with a full deck to the very end. While in their home of 60 years, he cashed in his chips for the final time with his devoted wife Jackie by his side. As he waits patiently for Jackie to join him, his surviving daughters, Toni (and Butch) Payne, along with Tracy (and Lyndon) Greeley continue to abide by his wishes and lovingly carry on with his lifetime commitment of caring for their mother. With few friends and family left behind, he wearily folded from bone cancer; leaving several grandchildren, great grandchildren and nieces and nephews. Born August 18, 1929, John rolled the dice as a long-term winner, played the odds and crapped out in his own time. Along with some lucky dice, he resides in Paradise Township, Evergreen Cemetery, Kingsley, Michigan.


http://www.wtfdetroit.com/forums/showthread.php?18209-Un-notable-deaths-thread...&highlight=deaths

Ghulam Mohammad Baksh Butt (22 May 1878 – 23 May 1960), better known by the ring name The Great Gama, was an Indian-born wrestler from the British Raj who then moved to Lahore, Pakistan post-partition where he lived for the rest of his days

There must be a reason why this restaurant fast food place is called Burger King. However one day they should come up with the ultimate Whopper and should make that much of the biggest whopper sandwich and when they do they should call it the King Whopper or something like that and when I say the King Whopper I'm talking about one big huge Whopper one big patty 1 lb at which case they would need bigger buns how's that for excitement

Tell me more.

The first time I heard this album was a mere hour after I nearly cheated on my girlfriend of (at the time) seven months. I had drank more than half a fifth of Bacardi 151 and blacked out, only to "awaken" 12 miles away in an ex-friend's bedroom. As I came to, I found my oh so familiar messenger bag, which contained my ipod, headphones, and a recently empty bottle; I got off the bed, realized what I had nearly done, and began walking home in total shock: who have I become?

It was around 5AM when I began walking. I wasn't aware at the time that this album was such a powerful and unique ambient recording. All I know is that when the first track started I couldn't imagine anything more perfect. The sun was just rising in the valley where I was en route to home. I started Marble Sky - The Sad Return. As I walked the sky was misty with morning dew, and the clouds above me masked the sun into a shining yellow orb surrounded by swirling pinkish brown clouds that looked like cut marble... I was picked up and brought into orbit, of course with guilt and reflection as my gravity.

For 7 miles I listened to this album, while occasionally turning east to look at the Sun. A marble sky accompanying on my ashamed and quite, quite sad return.

I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, uh, some, uh, people out there in our nation don't have maps and, uh, I believe that our education like such as in South Africa and, uh, the Iraq, everywhere like such as, and, I believe that they should, our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., uh, or, uh, should help South Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries, so we will be able to build up our future. For our children

God Bless, uh, America

I live my life in a kind of ascetic negation in relation those my age, utterly rejecting what I regard as their degraded amusements. I realize all is vanity, but there's seems especially earthly.

Yet the threshold of my ersatz hermeticism is imperfect, and certain things break through, the name "Fantano" among them (the rest, I think, are things like cartoons and video games, in service to the inexplicable idea that puerility and bad taste are a kind of "sincerity").

Why? Nothing I have seen this man say is remotely clever or insightful, he's indistinguishable from the throng of lithic, conventionally unconventional variations on a theme reduced to "yes" and "no." He's the sort of programistic "elitist" whose "taste" and "expertise" are predicated on an unwillingness to pursue history and an inability to say anything of interest.

If he's been elevated by that distinctly American process of the exultation of ignorance and become the most consequential tastemaker, that is truly sad, because when I'm reminded of what a doomed country this is, I at least like my most base instincts to be served by something amusing, and he's far too boring for that.

I hope I didn't sound like that when I was a teenager.

Jenkem is an inhalant and hallucinogen created from fermented human waste.[1] In the mid-1990s, it was reported to be a popular street drug among Zambian street children. They would put the feces and urine in a jar and cover it with a balloon then let it ferment out in the sun, then afterwards they would inhale the fumes created

Close the thread. Please.

Last week, I was in a car with my brother and his fiancee, driving through their upscale neighborhood on a hot summer day. At the corner, we all noticed three little girls sitting at a homemade lemonade stand.

We follow the same rules in our family, and one of them is: Always stop to buy lemonade from kids who are entrepreneurial enough to open up a little business.

My brother immediately pulled over to the side of the road and asked about the choices.

The three young girls -- under the watchful eye of a nanny, sitting on the grass with them -- explained that they had regular lemonade, raspberry lemonade and small chocolate candy bars.

Then my brother asked how much each item cost.

"Oh, no," they replied in unison, "they're all free!"

I sat in the back seat in shock. Free? My brother questioned them again: "But you have to charge something? What should I pay for a lemonade? I'm really thirsty!"

His fiancee smiled and commented: "Isn't that cute. They have the spirit of giving."

That really set me off, as my regular readers can imagine.

"No!" I exclaimed from the back seat. "That's not the spirit of giving. You can only really give when you give something you own. They're giving away their parents' things -- the lemonade, cups, candy. It's not theirs to give."

I pushed the button to roll down the window and stuck my head out to set them straight.

"You must charge something for the lemonade," I explained. "That's the whole point of a lemonade stand. You figure out your costs -- how much the lemonade costs and the cups -- and then you charge a little more than what it costs you, so you can make money. Then you can buy more stuff, and make more lemonade, and sell it, and make more money."

I was confident I had explained it clearly. Until my brother, breaking the tension, ordered a raspberry lemonade. As they handed it to him, he again asked, "So how much is it?"

And the girls once again replied, "It's free!" And the nanny looked on contentedly.

No wonder America is getting it all wrong

bukdow

""No!" I exclaimed from the back seat. "

Years ago before it was well known issue I went and bought a bunch of sugar free candy. Don't know if it still is but most of it used "sugar alcohol" which turns your poops into water and makes your sphincter about as useful as a locked door with no hinges.

Go to my little cousins birthday party she was around 6 and most my family was there, my uncle walked up behind me put me in a bear hug around my gut and picked me up.... that boiling gravy shot through my pair of underwear and my khaki shorts and turned my uncles clothes into a baseball players uniform after sliding into home plate in the rain.

Kids don't eat a whole bag of sugar free candy and expect to do ANYTHING.

Years ago before it was well known issue I went and bought a bunch of sugar free candy. Don't know if it still is but most of it used "sugar alcohol" which turns your poops into water and makes your sphincter about as useful as a locked door with no hinges.

Go to my little cousins birthday party she was around 6 and most my family was there, my uncle walked up behind me put me in a bear hug around my gut and picked me up.... that boiling gravy shot through my pair of underwear and my khaki shorts and turned my uncles clothes into a baseball players uniform after sliding into home plate in the rain.

Kids don't eat a whole bag of sugar free candy and expect to do ANYTHING.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPHlWw5QBEo

Not sure why I’m laughing at these, but I damn sure am

FB, you're clearly still suffering from the innocence of one finally learning to express their subjectivity through theory, as well as the virtues of moral seriousness as a resistance to the perceived vacuity of the world around you.

Before you charge me "fascism," you might want to glance at my username. "Sep" is diminutive for separation: Separation Perfected.

I also went about hostilely inflicting everyone my newfound illuminations after discovery Debord, insisting what seemed benign contained beneath its spectacular facade an infinity of nightmare, that everything besides what I understood as corresponding to an equally delusory idea of the "authentic" was alienated, reified, degrading, and cruel. In all things I found reification, and I could not bear the fact that I alone had will enough for this sacrilege. While I still embrace everything Debord wrote, still believe theory essential to leading a conscious and by extension moral relationship to a world that threatens to dehumanize us, I realize why I lost several friends following my subversion: I was being annoying, and brandishing the cultural currency of my limited readings in this way was as plainly immature to them as it is to me now.

"Separating the art from the artist" is the very dumbest discussion still to be treated as serious. You understand, first, that people are not all of one kind? You know who that's paraphrasing? STENDHAL, probably the greatest French novelist and also worshipper of Napoleon. I don't go for the "Death of the artist" idea at all, at least in its most dogmatic form (a friend told me Foucault wrote a response tempering somewhat the more hysterical aspects of his earlier thesis, but of course no one wants a god damn synthesis in this world of yes and no), I believe "the artist" is a useful means of relating to art, but when we construct the artist so childishly, as a narcissistic projection of our idealized, sentimental conception of ourselves, and demand they adhere to our conception of the "right life" at the threat of being forsworn, that's just a kind of solipsism. And that doesn't seem very political to me.

Frankly, your attitude on this thread is closer to the Maoists Godard would ridicule than to a Hegelian, wanting of all aspects of life a fetishized "radicalism," a false consciousness and a puritanism that adheres to degraded and commodified politics in truly jejune fashion.

This is not the Cantos of Ezra Pound or some such politically "troublesome" work of art: if you could enjoy Grimes' shitty synth pop before she showed herself a buffoon, you should be able to continue enjoying it, or else recognize that what you want of these things is some sentimental fantasy of a "moral" existence, a "right life," that merely substitutes one form of commodity fetishism and consumption for another

FB got freaking OWNED.

But what can lazy, dumb, conformist people do to give themselves a point and purpose in life?

Well the key problem is with the word "do." That requires hard work, toil, thought, of which the majority of American sports fans are either incapable of doing or consciously choose not to do. So what we need is an effortless way to give these otherwise worthless people some kind of worth in their lives. Something that they can take pride in, even though they themselves would not expend a single calorie of energy achieving some sort of accomplishment. And whereas religion used to fit this role nicely, going to church requires you wake up early on Sunday and go someplace you really don't want to go.

So, the solution?

Sportsball.

Whether it's football, baseball, basketball, or hockey, "sportsball" is incredibly attractive to the millions of lazy, unintelligent, conformist, pointless people that account for at least half of Americans today. Their lives are helplessly destroyed beyond repair. They either lack the intelligence or work ethic or both to get out of it. But if you can get them to live vicariously through the achievements and accomplishments of others, they will gladly fork over a significant portion of their garnished paycheck for tickets, jerseys, training camps, cable packages, light beers and wings! You can even get the taxpayers to WILLINGLY subsidize these various sportsball franchises to the tune of billions of dollars a year. All a sportsball franchise has to do is set up shop in a large town, speak about hometown pride and how much they like "City X," sponsor some kiddie programs, get the local news to run some horrific "sports news shows," give away some shirts and some banners, and the agencyless sheep will line up from a 300 mile radius to give you their time, money, and tears.

LOVE sportsball.

https://i.imgur.com/3hTLf1V.jpg

LOVE slutty single Disney women.

I may be a lot of things, but "alone" ain't one of them.

If anyone's projecting, it's you. My life is sweet. My son is learning to play #Tool on the guitar right now and my daughter is oil painting. Fulfilled is a word you'll never understand.

Try again sweetheart.

We Were you in going to need n n I I I t think thought t the same fabric f f f for cutting for the r r of on my way to the the the same time game name is is is and is the a the a 'sand in and itwas wash wasn't wash wasn't going a a call a call from with from the my the fabric same time time thing time to to be be the waitress same same same problem is with is with you the a you have power power power

I am a Slavic Orthodox Christian of noble birth. I am interested in art and music in particular. Perhaps the most important thing to say about myself on this site is that I reject the modernist plebeian autonomous aesthetics with its “art for the sake of art” (in fact, "art for the sake of the destruction of traditional society pretending to be art").
Aesthetics are only part of a higher degree - ethics. Art is needed for the emotional service of morals and people, and good art is good service. Therefore, I reject all plebeian aesthetic canons established in the 18th-19th centuries and prefer the traditional, above-mentioned view of art. Golden canon instead of experiments for the sake of experiments, order instead of chaos, mimesis instead of degenerative abstraction, beauty and emotionality instead of cold and detached pseudo-complexity, seriousness and partly sentimentality instead of annoying tasteless irony, aesthetic value of the composition instead of the artist’s personality / self-expression, the melody instead of a set of unusually structured sounds, necessary in some cases emotional pomp instead of the philistine cult of moderation for the sake of moderation.
Music is no exception - traditional western harmonies and beautiful melodies instead of experiments with sound and rhythm. I am a supporter of the musical hierarchy, I think that some styles / genres are superior and some degenerate by themselves. Despite this / because of this (which you prefer) I try to be as objective as possible when I rate records, minimizing the subjective factor, although not always possible. Proceeding from this, I adhere to the simple rule “just as the things that we intuitively like are really good, and the fact that we don’t like it doesn’t mean that it’s bad,” which has ethical-aesthetic roots.
I also appreciate the mainstream above the underground, because the mainstream, despite all its flaws and simplifications, historically have much more in common with traditional noble culture than the underground, which grew out of degenerative cancerous ideas of XVIII-XIX centuries, especially marxist ones. So, my rule is “Very many things in the mainstream are bad, but all really good things are necessarily in the mainstream”. All the good stuff that is in the underground sooner or later goes to the mainstream, and in a better way. In a sense, I have a Tolstoyan view of art (but only on art, otherwise Tolstoy is not my cup of tea). Truly ingenious things always strive for simplicity and accessibility, even if they are difficult to perform - to consolidate their position in culture. Mediocrity is always trying to confuse, "experiment", shock, destroy, talk about "progress" and "originality" - in order to disguise the lack of real talent.
Based on this, my assessments may not always coincide with the canons of RYM, which adhere to the philistine modernist / postmodern aesthetics purely intuitively. Those, for example, I put high ratings to the avant-garde only in an ironic context and I can consider as true art what the philistines call the blurry and ridiculous word "cheesy" or "kitsch" (an attempt to recreate traditional art).

P.S. English grammar is a terrifying thing, especially when you are not a native speaker. Perhaps this is not the best excuse, but ... i have no other.
But in general, it is good not to be a native speaker of English - it is much easier for me to focus on the music itself (which is my goal) and to separate the music/vocal perfomance from the lyrics. Most of my ratings are set in accordance with this feature, with rare exceptions.
I almost never care about lyrics, because in most songs, lyrics and poetry range from banal to damn terrible (even in "deep" songs) - the song format, by definition, can not contain something even remotely interesting to an educated person. In my reviews, I will rarely mention the lyrics - only if it is ridiculously awful and contrasts with, in general, good musicality of the whole song.

P.S.S. And simple chain in the end. Autonomous aesthetics is a myth of Enlightenment and Romanticism, it does not exist. Good taste in art is a moral quality. The highest morality is Christian. Therefore, the anti-Christian has a shitty taste by definition.

I can’t think of a more egregious example of government-sponsored socialism than the public library. Unproductive citizens without two nickels to rub together are given access to millions of books they could never afford to buy on their own -- all paid for with the tax dollars of productive citizens. Does the government pay for people to rent tuxedos for free, sail boats for free, or play golf for free? No, it does not. So why should it pay for people to read books and surf the Internet for free?

The free market should be left alone to distribute books and computers to those who have earned them. With libraries handing out free books, is it any wonder Borders went out of business? Libraries are also repositories for out-of-print books which can no longer make it in the marketplace. Gary can no longer afford to keep its main library open, but you don't see the state bailing it out. That's because Indiana is a business-friendly place that knows how to balance its budget.

In addition, libraries are often used by the homeless to warm themselves during the winter, or to nap during aimless afternoons which might better be spent looking for a job. Advocates of public libraries cite them as “community gathering spaces” -- but can’t the market provide those spaces, too?

As the author of three books, I obviously have a grudge against libraries because they enable the public to consume my work without paying for it. Every time someone checks one of my books out of the library, that’s money out of my pocket. There are 79 public libraries in Chicago. If there were 79 filling stations dispensing free gasoline, don’t you think the oil industry would complain? You bet it would, and it would probably get those stations shut down, because the Petroleum Institute has a much better-funded lobbying arm than the Authors’ Guild.

If the public libraries can’t generate enough revenue to support themselves, they should be closed. Well, not entirely. There is one book that everyone in Chicago deserves to read: Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. Perhaps we can all borrow a copy at City Hall.

“If one times one equals one, that means that two is of no value because one times itself has no effect. One times one equals two because the square root of four is two, so what’s the square root of two? Should be one, but we’re told it’s two, and that cannot be.”

I can’t think of a more egregious example of government-sponsored socialism than the public library. Unproductive citizens without two nickels to rub together are given access to millions of books they could never afford to buy on their own -- all paid for with the tax dollars of productive citizens. Does the government pay for people to rent tuxedos for free, sail boats for free, or play golf for free? No, it does not. So why should it pay for people to read books and surf the Internet for free?

The free market should be left alone to distribute books and computers to those who have earned them. With libraries handing out free books, is it any wonder Borders went out of business? Libraries are also repositories for out-of-print books which can no longer make it in the marketplace. Gary can no longer afford to keep its main library open, but you don't see the state bailing it out. That's because Indiana is a business-friendly place that knows how to balance its budget.

In addition, libraries are often used by the homeless to warm themselves during the winter, or to nap during aimless afternoons which might better be spent looking for a job. Advocates of public libraries cite them as “community gathering spaces” -- but can’t the market provide those spaces, too?

As the author of three books, I obviously have a grudge against libraries because they enable the public to consume my work without paying for it. Every time someone checks one of my books out of the library, that’s money out of my pocket. There are 79 public libraries in Chicago. If there were 79 filling stations dispensing free gasoline, don’t you think the oil industry would complain? You bet it would, and it would probably get those stations shut down, because the Petroleum Institute has a much better-funded lobbying arm than the Authors’ Guild.

If the public libraries can’t generate enough revenue to support themselves, they should be closed. Well, not entirely. There is one book that everyone in Chicago deserves to read: Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. Perhaps we can all borrow a copy at City Hall.

bukdow's still at it, I see.

This is a message from the done with the police department the national weather service has issued a.
Screen Corning -- and give me a lot -- it sound how you can freezing temperatures in the lower 30 seconds expected with temperatures falling as little as T after 20 seconds in the higher elevations -- asterisk where -- portions of north central Northeast Northwest and west central to enter -- asterisk when -- John from 11:00 PM this evening 2:10 AM eastern daylight time Friday -- asterisk impact -- ducks crossed in freeze conditions will 2:00 other sensitive education and possibly damaging protected outdoor morning -- take steps announcer protected plans for the told -- to prevent freezing and possible bursting with outdoor water pipes they should be around to ring or around to drink some early.
Posted heading ground sprinkler systems should during the night cover plus grounds plates to protect them from three thing.

I KNOW A LOT ABOUT BICYCLES! MOST OF THEM HAVE 2 WHEELS, A SET OF HANDLEBARS, A SEAT, SOME HAVE FENDERS, SOME DON'T AND ALL ARE POWERED BY EITHER MAN,WOMAN, BOY, GIRL OR OTHER.

BUT MY GIRLFRIEND HAD 1 IN COLLEGE (KENT STATE, DURING THE "INCIDENT") AND WANTS ANOTHER 1.

I HAVE NO IDEA, WHAT KIND, GEARS, SIZE OF WHAT SHE HAD, NOR WOULD SHE. ALL SHE KNOWS WAS THAT IT WAS A TAKARA.

IF YOU WERE TO SELL IT HOW MUCH WOULD YOU WANT FOR IT.

I WILL BE SITTING DOWN WHEN I READ YOUR RESPONSE AND IT WON'T HURT IF I FALL OVER, SO YOU CAN TYPE THE ENTIRE PRICE AT ONE TIME.

ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS IS A DIE HARD BIKE ENTHUSIEST OF BETTER THAN 35 YEARS AND IT TAKES MY BREATHE AWAY WHEN HE TELLS ME WHAT ANY 1 OF HIS 3 COST, MUCH LESS WHAT THE EXPENSIVE ONES COST.

THANKS
ROBERT

I wasn't bullied in school though many tried with me who didnt know me. When I was named called I nipped it at the bud real quick, which brought be many squabbles. But having fought so much gave me the confidence I have today. I walk with my back head up, my chest out and my shoulders straight because of my bravery. Most people are just bluffing. They're just trying to get their own head pumped up at the expense of doing onto others. But when I met them at their action, they almsot always backed down thus putting their asses back in their place. Many times it was significantly larger guys than I.
I was always ready for a beat down. I always excepted the fact that I may get my ass kicked and a few times I did but I didnt give a shit either way. The way I saw it is that I'd rather get my ass kicked than let mother fkers walk all over me. I was small back then in Highschool but I had gained a reputation that mufuckers were welcome to try with me but it definitely wasn't going to cost them.

Congratulations, you got a reaction from users. That's what you wanted right? Well, I've decided I don't like people like you. You've messed with the community of the wrong psychopath. Before you get excited, you haven't even made me angry. I am a hard person to make angry. However, I despise people like you. Your pitiful hacking skills are hilarious. Hacking accounts and putting up proxies are level 1. Can you hack encrypted files? Can you tear through firewalls without leaving a mark? Your silly little proxy won't protect you. I have hacked into many computers and spied on the users. I've hacked into games. I've been hacking since I had a computer. It's what I was raised to do. You have no idea to the extent of fear which you should be feeling. All you are is just a community of internet creeps. Have you ever murdered anyone? I have no empathy and I will probably feel joy peeling your skin off your face. You think I'm giving you an empty threat? Believe that. I have contacts in dark places that you don't want to know about. If you live even close to me you better fear for your life. Track my IP if you want to, but I am smart enough to use a library computer. Hack into my account if you want, but it'll just make it easier for me to track you.

With love,

A psychopath

It's like the Navy Seals copypasta but it's getting its head dunked into a toilet.

"Your silly little proxy won't protect you."


Ownage.

Hi, Gavin, beside being Italian I am also from the Parma region, and as a young boy I’ve help in a Parmigiano cheese factory. I am very impress with the cheese making process you have shown in the video. In a small scale it represents, right down to the temperatures used, on what is happening in the factory. I cannot understand some of the negative comments you received, some individuals are just idiots. Of course, yours is not THE Parmigiano Reggiano, but so what? You have made a cheese that resembles the original and I am also sure it tastes good. On being precise, the making of Parmigiano cheese is controlled all the way to the actual feed the cattle get and with favoring the evening milking vs morning milking. So again, good job on what you have done, and opinionated people....shame on you.

Gavin should just claim to be producing Pecorino Romano, THOSE guys have no standards.

A few months ago I posted on here about a supervisor not letting me go on breaks at work. I have gotten a new job since then since I simply could not work with my supervisor.

I have written and recorded several songs dissing my old supervisor and bringing up all the things he did to me into a mixtape.

If I were to upload these songs into SoundCloud or YouTube and my supervisor heard them, is there any kind of legal action he could take against me for name-dropping him in many of the songs?

tl;dr: I made a mixtape dissing my old boss and mention his name in many of the songs, if I made this mixtape public, could he take any legal action against me?

Bet that’s FIRE

I just went back and read through the entire thread. I know I'm pathetic.

It's hilarious how many of these posts could've been written by bukdow.

This is a great thread for re-reading.

If you haven’t noticed by now, I’m a well educated individual, both in the traditional sense as a UC Berkeley graduate with a full scholarship, as well as continuing on afterwards as a self taught polymath. In school I excelled in biology, physics, philosophy, psychology and mathematics, notably probability and statistics. My areas of interest in my younger years revolved mainly in world religions, esoteric studies and the occult. You could easily describe me as an Existential savant. Later in life I gravitated to quantum physics, exoplanetary astronomy, extremophile biology plus cutting edge antigravity technology, reverse engineered by crashed ET saucers, technologically produced wormholes and FTL and old school rocket propulsion. I’m also a huge fan of ancient alien progentiure theories, including Zachariah Stitchens work with Sumerian Annunaki and have read the ‘Book of Enki’ in its entirety, not an easy task mind you. It’s like trying to understand Shakespear. My knowledge is not limited to this geographical region alone. I’m well versed in others including Egyptian, Mayan and Hindu extraterrestrial origin mythologies. Adjunct to these archeological studies, I’m familiar with the hidden teachings of Gnosticism, Zoroastrianism or Mazdayasna and Sufism, Theosophy, the Illuminati, Latin American Shamanism and ancient Greek mystery schools of both Hermeticism and Eudaimonia. Most recently my interests have included the latest UFO and extraterrestrial conspiratorial subjects including Roswell, Area 51, Majestic 12, Nikola Tesla, the Philadelphia experiment, Alien taxonomy and hybrids, CIA Mind Control programs like MK Ultra, Time travel and the Montauk chair experiments. I’ve also watched many documentaries on the numerous secret space programs, Earth’s secret subterranean biosphere’s and the naturally occuring portals that allow access. Hidden spacecraft buried under Antartica including the secret post WWII Nazi base, the US navy’s crushing defeat under project highjump. Breakaway civilizations with moon bases within a hollow core and those on Mars competing with indigneous Insectoid and Reptilian species. Finally to end this exhaustive list, there’s the supremely complex alien politics originating from time immemorial when the first Dracos attacked the first humanoid Lyrans who then fled to distant parts of the Galaxy, making up the Pleadians, Sirians, Orians and a number of others that seeded our solar system and that make up the Galactic Federation, the Alliance and various organizations that watch us, monitoring our precarious situation until the coming Ascension cycling every 250,000 years as the solar system circles the center of the Galaxy, called the ‘procession’. Evidently as this occurs, our planetary system will enter a region of intense electromagnetism instigating our Sun to release a solar flare 1000 times greater than normal and thus elevating all inhabitants of Earth into a greater cosmic awareness and perhaps destroying a plot to utilize artificial intelligence against humanity and possibly our entire power grid with a monumental EMF? Suffice it to say that I possess a wealth of science fiction information from which to draw upon in the creation of my own story inspiration.

I bear witness to the fact that throughout my lifetime, the lifeblood of my republic has been drained away by greedy and self-serving men, from high to low, who contrive nought but deception against their neighbors and countrymen, and who fail to consider that their children and mine shall share the same fate, the same future, and I am saddened by it.

But I am a soldier, and I know what must be done; and so I shall put away my sadness and I shall harness up the bitter steed of war, and gird myself up for the battle; and I shall ride out to meet the enemies of Liberty; not in rage, not for anger sake or the hope of vengeance; but because I swore an oath before God, to jealously guard our Republic and its Constitution against all enemies; Him I shall not disappoint, for He is my Hope and my Trust.

Therefore, as much as my soul laments against the harsh truth before me, I make this declaration to my enemies who press me into this battle, that none shall be able to afterwards say "I did not know, you did not warn me";

I do not care why you took that job with the government, or why you continue to hold it. I only know that you have become Judas and sold yourself to an oppressive state — your government office buildings and vehicles are part of the battlefield, and as a soldier I shall act accordingly.

I do not care why, as a journalist, you choose to spin and corrupt the news, rather than report the plain truth and let the people judge for themselves. I only know that you have violated the public trust in the most vile and seditious manner, and thus your homes, offices, studios, vehicles, and any other place you may find yourself are part of the battlefield, and as a soldier I shall act accordingly.

I do not care why you signed that union card. I only know that you pay dues to a communist organization which conducts treasonous works against my Republic daily – and so your union hall and your work-sites are part of the battlefield, and as a soldier I shall act accordingly.

I do not care that you only voted for the traitor because you are elderly/disabled or otherwise dependent upon government largess. Are you so ignorant and/or disinterested that you could not see through their propaganda, to the fact that your sustenance was assured either way? What have you gained now that the public housing areas you live in, and the public facilities you depend on are part of the battlefield? Though I am a soldier, I can afford you little protection, for you have placed yourselves on the battlefield.

I know that all of these places and all of these people are part of the battlefield, not just because I am a soldier, and have experienced a few battlefields in my day; but also because our President declares that even our own homes are on the battlefield, whether we wish them to be or not, and I have no choice but to believe him; it’s not just that the NDAA passed – a battlefield is not defined by law; it’s the profound build-up of martial power and resources across my once-great nation which tells me a battle is being prepared here. Over two billion rounds of ammunition procured by DHS and its sub-agencies in the past 18 months, plus machine guns in the tens of thousands, armored vehicles, combat aircraft, drones, and other implements of war being staged throughout our nation, our home – how do you explain that except as the preparation for battle?

I will fight not because I desire it, but because I cannot justify any other course of action – when the enemy attacks, you must fight – you must kill or you will die.

I smell you, my enemy; I can feel the ambush you have laid for me and my true countrymen, all about like a sticky spider’s web, yet we will not back down; and though you will kill some of us, you will not get us all before we have finished with you.

I stand here, ready, on the eve of battle, and I ask God why I have been brough to the threshold of this battlefield, about to be thrust in, when I though my soldiering days were through; and I am reminded that there is by His decree, a Time to Kill, as well as a Time to Die… who am I to question why?

My family poops big. Maybe it's genetic, maybe it's our diet, but everyone births giant logs of crap. If anyone has laid a mega-poop, you know that sometimes it won't flush. It lays across the hole in the bottom of the bowl and the vortex of draining water merely gives it a spin as it mocks you.

Growing up, this was a common enough occurrence that our family had a poop knife. It was an old rusty kitchen knife that hung on a nail in the laundry room, only to be used for that purpose. It was normal to walk through the hallway and have someone call out "hey, can you get me the poop knife"?

I thought it was standard kit. You have your plunger, your toilet brush, and your poop knife.

Fast forward to 22. It's been a day or two between poops and I'm over at my friend's house. My friend was the local dealer and always had 'guests' over, because you can't buy weed without sitting on your ass and sampling it for an hour. I excuse myself and lay a gigantic turd. I look down and see that it's a sideways one, so I crack the door and call out for my friend. He arrives and I ask him for his poop knife.

"My what?"

Your poop knife, I say. I need to use it. Please.

"Wtf is a poop knife?"

Obviously he has one, but maybe he calls it by a more delicate name. A fecal cleaver? A Dung divider? A guano glaive? I explain what it is I want and why I want it.

He starts giggling. Then laughing. Then lots of people start laughing. It turns out, the music stopped and everyone heard my pleas through the door. It also turns out that none of them had poop knives, it was just my fucked up family with their fucked up bowels. FML.

I told this to my wife last night, who was amused and horrified at the same time. It turns out that she did not know what a poop knife was and had been using the old rusty knife hanging in the utility closet as a basic utility knife. Thankfully she didn't cook with it, but used it to open Amazon boxes.

She will be getting her own utility knife now.

[Edit: Common question - Why was this not in the bathroom instead of the laundry room? Answer. We only had one poop knife, and the laundry room was central to all three bathrooms. I have no idea why we didn't have three poop knives. All I know is that we didn't. We had the one. Possibly because my father was notoriously cheap about the weirdest things. So yes, we shared our poop knife.]

The poop knife story cracks me up every time.

I actually haven't spoken to my straight son in several years but was reminded of him today. The last time I spoke to him was when I went to meet with some clients at their office. After the meeting I told my son to wait while I used the bathroom, then I drove off and went for a late lunch with my husband.

Apparently my son just wandered around the office for a week, living on snacks and left out sandwich platters, until he wandered into a meeting and delivered a PowerPoint presentation entitled: "Have you seen my dad? I can't find his car in the parking lot." I guess this really impressed the idiots who worked there, because pretty soon he was their Senior Director of Corporate Communications. This is a Fortune 500 company, mind you.

Seems like my son is doing pretty well, despite his heterosexual handicap, and is now a motivational business speaker and published author with works such as:

Where is YOUR Dad? Defining Your Company's Core Values for Success
Lost in the Parking Lot: Finding Meaning in a Shifting Business Paradigm

Anyway, I was reminded of my son today because during a meeting someone said, "Well right now I'd say we're lost in the parking lot. But once we've had time to make sense of the analytics we'll know where our dad is."

This thread is on fire.

Tell Ea-nasir: Nanni sends the following message:

When you came, you said to me as follows : "I will give Gimil-Sin (when he comes) fine quality copper ingots." You left then but you did not do what you promised me. You put ingots which were not good before my messenger (Sit-Sin) and said: "If you want to take them, take them; if you do not want to take them, go away!"

What do you take me for, that you treat somebody like me with such contempt? I have sent as messengers gentlemen like ourselves to collect the bag with my money (deposited with you) but you have treated me with contempt by sending them back to me empty-handed several times, and that through enemy territory. Is there anyone among the merchants who trade with Telmun who has treated me in this way? You alone treat my messenger with contempt! On account of that one (trifling) mina of silver which I owe(?) you, you feel free to speak in such a way, while I have given to the palace on your behalf 1,080 pounds of copper, and Šumi-abum has likewise given 1,080 pounds of copper, apart from what we both have had written on a sealed tablet to be kept in the temple of Shamash.

How have you treated me for that copper? You have withheld my money bag from me in enemy territory; it is now up to you to restore (my money) to me in full.

Take cognizance that (from now on) I will not accept here any copper from you that is not of fine quality. I shall (from now on) select and take the ingots individually in my own yard, and I shall exercise against you my right of rejection because you have treated me with contempt.

Hell yeah, Nanni!

I knew I'd read that somewhere before:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Complaint_tablet_to_Ea-nasir

If you’ve read the comments section of any respected website over the past year, certainly you’re aware of my expertise ranging from, but not limited to:
The Constitution. Venezuela. Libtards. The Founding Fathers. Regulating the uterus. Martial arts. Jesus. World of Warcraft. Babes. And how the ’97 Olmsted Falls Bulldogs would have totally won state if coach let me start at middle linebacker instead of Chad Weaver. (Complete, unabridged remarks on Chad Weaver available upon request.)

What you may not know is that I’m now a leading authority on infectious disease.

Only funny because it’s true

Well walking around this stinking town
I look up at the buildings and they get me down
Well I look to my left and then I look to my right
And then I realize they've been striking at me
Since the middle of last night, hey!

No, no no!

I know everyone's going to think this is fake but trust me when I say this is an actual situation I'm going through. So for some explanation I have been collection Funko Pops way before I even met my wife. Buying Funko Pops started off just as a small interest but quickly became a passion of mine. Since my first time buying a Funko Pop 6 years ago I've stocked up thousands of these figures. So now about my relationship with my wife. 2 years ago I met my soon to be wife. From the very beginning of the relationship she was well aware of my Funko Pop collection and was well aware that at the time I was spending a few hundred bucks monthly in order to keep expanding my collection. She was perfectly fine with this btw. In fact she would buy Funko Pops for me for my B-Day and for Christmas. However about a week ago we got in a huge fight over my spending of Funko Pops. I will admit these past few months I have been dropping about $500 monthly on Funko figures, but in my opinion it was not financially tanking considering me and my wife have pretty decent jobs. I don't want to state what those jobs are for privacy reasons. Anyways she was telling me I needed to stop the Funko Pop collecting for a long time or at least cut down my Funko spending to 3 Funko Pops per month. In my opinion that is so ridiculous considering how limited I would be in my choice of Funko Pops. I tried to explain to her how much I enjoy collecting these figures, and how much it means to me. She then started yelling that we were going to go in debt because of the amount of money I've been spending on Funko Pops. I stated to her how she was completely over-reacting and there is no way we could possibly go in debt from this.

After some more screaming she locked herself in our room and I had to sleep on the couch that night. I really did not feel bad at all because I knew she was over-reacting. When I woke up in the morning she told me she was going to stay at her sisters house until we could sort things out. I honestly just couldn't believe she was going so far with this. I tried my best to convince her to stay but again she kept stating that I needed to stop the Funko collecting for a long time. That isn't an option for me because again she is completely over-reacting and it is in no way affecting us financially.

A few days go by and I get a call from her. She tells me that I need to choose. Either I stop the Funko Pop collecting or we're getting a divorce. I started telling her how ridiculous she was being because she obviously is being ridiculous. After 2 years she was just willing to throw away our marriage over my passion. She was pretty much sobbing at this point and then I finally just told her I'm not going to let her get in the way of my passion. I still haven't gotten the divorce papers but I'm expecting them soon.

So AITA for choosing Funko Pops over my wife? Again I'm very passionate about them and I think it's ridiculous for someone to try and take that away from me when it is in no way shape or form hurting them..

Life in this society being, at best, an utter bore and no aspect of society being at all relevant to women, there remains to civic-minded, responsible, thrill-seeking females only to overthrow the government, eliminate the money system, institute complete automation and destroy the male sex.

What the f*** did you just f***ing say about me, you little b****? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the f*** out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my f***ing words. You think you can get away with saying that s*** to me over the Internet? Think again, f***er. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're f***ing dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little s***. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your f***ing tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will s*** fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're f***ing dead, kiddo.

It’s hard to articulate what makes this so striking, so I’ll start with this claim and work backwards: Randy Savage is the most photogenic wrestler in history. Professional wrestlers are among the most photographed people on earth, so that’s saying a lot. At a wrestler like Savage’s level there are, at a minimum, thousands of cameras trained on the ring at all times. As a genre, wrestling photography is a unique intersection of the dynamism of sports photography and the intimacy of the portrait, a celebration of the human range of motion and an exploration of the human form posed with the intent of its consumption by the onlooker. In wrestling, the onlooker is the home audience, watching the action as dictated by a director and a team of camera operators working within a style that’s been polished and refined since the early days of Hulkamania to keep pace with the televised presentation of other sports like football, basketball, and hockey. We talk about this kind of image making in wrestling so often that we don’t realize that we’re talking about image making until the camera operator screws something up and misses a spot, or the director decides to cut to five or six different angles during a headlock.

does anyone play TOCA 3, especially online? ive gotten into the game recently, and its hella fun. if not TOCA, does anyone play any racing games online? im always looking for competition. for the record, i achieved 7th in the world on nfs underground 2.. and 1st on juiced. in juiced i held the world lap records for about half the tracks when i was playing. im no joke, grew up in a racing family (3 of my 4 parents race, remarried of course), have a momo wheel for my pc, and know what im doing. im posting because there doesnt seem to be much USA action on TOCA online, but im down for whatever game people might be playing that is for PC. post back if you want to set some stuff up.

“Yesterday I got everything I could out of a Subway sandwich. But not everything I need. My whole life is just a routine. It doesn’t feel real to me. I want more than that. I want to feel something. I want to feel like a participant. I want to feel like a human being. I want the feeling of being alive. But there’s not enough language for that so I just say whatever I can think of that day.”

(From here: https://www.instagram.com/botsofnewyork/)

However, Colby Bounce closed in 2018, and the space is currently Ballzy Ballz.

WHEN EINSTEIN DIED, IN 1955, his brain was removed during an unsanctioned autopsy at a hospital in Princeton. Later, at the University of Pennsylvania, a pathologist named Thomas Stoltz Harvey sliced it up for research purposes but kept some of the slivers for himself. In 1988, Harvey—who’d since been stripped of his medical license—moved to Lawrence, home of the University of Kansas, where he presented one of the slivers to local author William S. Burroughs, after whose death in 1997 it passed into the possession of . . . I’m going to stop now, because I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. Let’s just say that when I was in Lawrence, teaching at KU, this was a thing that still happened, a hazing that was also an homage: You scooped the bit of Einstein’s brain out of the jar and shook off the excess formaldehyde; then, you put some salt in the crook of your thumb and licked it, after which you took down a shot of cheap room-temperature tequila and sucked on the brain-bit until your mouth went numb—until the formaldehyde paralyzed your lips and tongue and you couldn’t be understood, you couldn’t even feel yourself trying to make language.

Over halfway there! The next bar up is the Maraná 70% Single-Origin Peru. Maybe it's chocolate fatigue, but I'm finding it tough to think of much to say about this one other than, "It's like the Valrhona, but significantly more bitter." Similar fruity attack, the aftertaste isn't as good... I don't think I'll come back to this one. Hey, they can't all be winners. (Which is ironic here, since the Maraná's packaging boasts of its Amercias Gold award in the 2018 International Chocolate Awards.)


(Sorry oobs I couldn't resist! Please continue posting your reviews though, I've actually been sending them to a friend who LOVES dark chocolate....)

Question for the musically inclined...

What types of instruments/music would a society that is centered around mounted griffin flight have? Metal is about an order of magnitude more rare in this world than usual, so no brass section. And I've been picturing them as Vikings, so it would be nice if their music would fit thematically with that (though certainly not required).

They would have a larger set of instruments they could play on the ground, but they would need something they could play in flight and be heard by others nearby over the sound of rushing wind. Drums may work, maybe flutes carved from griffin bones (which I'm assuming are hollow like most bird bones).

Anything else I'm not thinking of?

^^^^



My first thought is some smaller, lighter form of stringed instrument, taking conceptual inspiration from winged creatures. Such an instrument could be anywhear from the size of a violin to a contrabass (very big), or even larger, could be made of wood or many other more organic materials (sound boxes carved from griffin eggs or other materials shaped after griffin eggs), and could be built to have soft or wispy sounds reminiscent of wind during flight.

Also, stringed instruments often use natural gut strings, which are animal products. Perhaps using feathers as some sort of modified bow, instead of horse-hair...

I could easily see something along the lines of a Waterboat, but maybe slightly more musical...






Maybe the land based instruments are constructed from griffin pieces - feathers, bones, gutstring, skin, etc. A way for riders to keep their griffin close even when not flying or a way to honor dead mounts. Their society is organized into clans, each of which is based on a common griffin matriach that is an ancestor to a rider's primary mount-which takes years to train for a given rider.

Nance died suddenly and unexpectedly on December 30, 1996 from an apparent internal head injury the morning after getting into a physical brawl at a donut shop with some rowdy patrons.

In the book, Ian described an icy relationship at first, to the point where Meat Loaf wanted to “punch my teeth down my throat,” but then said the two eventually bonded one night at the Viper Room, where Meat Loaf performed Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” with then-cover band Metal Shop (who eventually became Steel Panther). “It was this really great moment between the two of us — a total bonding experience,” wrote Ian. “And from that point on, we were totally bros. Over the years, Meat has gone above and beyond for me, Pearl, and Revel.”

I'm worried. People think I have a monkey virus.

I was behind the truck carrying the monkeys. When he got off the exit he keep on going and turned to get on back 80. And that when the dump truck hit the back of the trailer and both went down into where the trees were. I thought the debry on the road came from the dump truck at first. So I pull over and run to check on the driver. I was worried that they were hurt. The driver said I'm sorry I didn't see you. I told him he didn't hit me. That I was behind him and I was worried that people were hurt. driver asked about his trailer I said that the back end was fine but from where I was I couldn't see the front of it. I then noticed someone legs between the fronts seats. I asked if he was ok l. He said his leg was hurt. I told him to stay in the truck until the ambulance came. I didn noticed that they had a white sun visor that covered the passenger side windows Then a retired fire fighter came down to help. So .l walk back unto the road. The person who was on the phone with 911, said he seen a cat run into the woods and that there cats inside the crates. So I went to check on the cats. I pulled back a green cloth. I could see it's brown fur. So I said kitty kitty, I stuck my finger inside to pet it. It made like a grunting nose. So I got a closer look. And a monkey pops up and hissed at my face. At the point I told the guy who was on the phone with 911. That they were not cats monkeys. So I walked around to check on the monkeys. To make sure they were ok and not hurt. And also walk inside the trailer because thete were crates inside. But the floor board was giving out and the guy who called 911 said that it could roll back so I got out. I then walk around more. I noticed that 1 crate was completely broken and and 1 was missing the front end of it. The crate is divided into 3 sections. It holds 3 monkeys each. Each crate had 3 monkeys in it. That's why I said 4 monkeys were missing. The crates were tip over. So I helped turn them over. I did notice that one crates was broken enough that the one monkey could stick his hand out. I walked over to see it. He looked very curious. He was cute and looked scared. So I walk over to see. I then told the police that it could possibly get out. I asked if they had anything to hold it together more so the monkey would not get out. He said he didn't. I even asked about using duct tape. Then I seen the driver. I should it to him. The driver then told me that the monkey were not quarantine yet and not to touch anything. At that point I thought they were zoo monkeys going from one zoo to another. So I walked around. I gave my info to the police. Then I found out there were lab test monkeys. Then I went home. I called my aunt to tell her about it. Because she lives behind were the monkeys ran off too. Because she has a dog. I didn't want her dog to get attacked. I then went to a birthday party. We all talked about the monkeys. My sister said. I always wanted a monkey you should have taken one for my birthday present. Later that I night I was in bed. When my aunt gook called and said she ran into wnep and she told them about how I was there. So she called me to see if I would come in to do the news. I got up and ran in. Did the news and came home. I then hear that they don't want anyone near the monkey. So because I did try to pet one, one hissed in my face. I called the state police to ask questions. I was told to meet Corporal Spade near the crash site. I ask if he csn just call me. They lady so no that I had to go to him. So I went to see him. But he was not there another officer was. There was a white car there. And 3 people get out. I thought it was people that were helping with the monkeys. But it was the news people. The officer said that Spade was on his way. Spade and a Vet doctor from the CDC was with him. I told her about the monkey hissing in my face. I also told her I had a cut. She ask if the monkey bit or scratch me. I said no. I told her I walk through the poop and got it on me. I asked if I should throw away my shoe. Because of the poop she said no. Just to wash them. She told me that I would get a call and letter from CDC and health department. The next day I spoke with a lady from the CDC. That I was low risk for exposure. And what symptoms to look for. And because the symptoms are like flu symptoms and being flu season. If I got any to see my doctor and have them rule out covid first. If that came back negative. That they will do further test. I told her my family has been sick. But because of the monkeys. When I started pink eye like symptoms, runny nose and cough. My temp was. 99.1. So to be safe. I went to Gesinger. I should the doctor my letter and told him what my symptoms were. Because the monkey did hiss at me. And there was monkey poop. And I had a open cut. Where I was not sure were it came from. They wanted to start rabbies shots and medication. To prevent anything from happening.

FROM THE DESK OF MR.DENIS K. MONTAG
FUND OPERATIONAL MANAGER
CITI BANK NEW YORK, NY 10016, USA
OUR REF: CBUX0022-ODCS/022
YOUR REF:CBU/WB/IMF/USA-22
E-MAIL: montagm689@aol.com


RE:URGENT NOTICE

THE RECENT LAUNCHED JOINT EXTERNAL DEBT HUB (JEDH) BY THE INTER-AGENCY
TASK FORCE ON FINANCE STATISTICS (TFFS) THIS JOINT LAUNCH IS BY THE
BANK FOR INTERNATIONAL SETTLEMENTS (BIS), INTERNATIONAL MONETARY FUND
(IMF), ORGANIZATION FOR ECONOMIC CO-OPERATION AND DEVELOPMENT (OECD),
AND THE WORLD BANK AND REPRESENTS EFFORTS TO SYNERGIZE INTERNATIONAL
ADVANCES IN THE AREA OF EXTERNAL DEBT STATISTICS. DUE TO THIS NEW
ORGANIZATION, THE WORLD BANK HAS GRATIFIED THE INTERNATIONAL DEBT
MANAGEMENT TO LOOK INTO THE ALL OUTSTANDING CONTRACTORS/WORKERS DUE
FOR PAYMENT WITH US GOVERNMENT. IN REGARDS TO THIS, YOUR NAME WAS
AMONG THE UNSETTLED CONTRACTORS/WORKERS WHO HAVE NOT RECEIVED THEIR
PAYMENTS. I WISH TO INFORM YOU THAT THE INTERNATIONAL DEBT MANAGEMENT
HAS BEEN APPROVED AND INSTRUCTED BY WORLD DEBT ORGANIZATION & WORLD
BANK TO PROCESS AND RELEASE ALL THE OUTSTANDING PAYMENT WHICH HAS BEEN
DUE FOR PAYMENT.

THIS IS TO OFFICIALLY NOTIFY YOU THAT THE WORLD BANK IN CONJUNCTION
WITH THE UNITED STATES SET ASIDE US$3.4BILLION TO PAY IN GOOD CLAIMS
FROM FOREIGN INHERITANCE FUND (NEXT OF KIN); IN LINE WITH THIS
ARRANGEMENT THE UNITED STATES ON FOREIGN DEBT MATTERS (USFDM) ORDERED
THAT CONTRACTORS AND NEXT-OF-KINS WHOSE FILE HAVE SHOWN SUFFICIENT
PROOF REGARDING JOB EXECUTION AND DEBT OUTSTANDING BE SETTLED WITHOUT
DELAY. WE WISH TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR FILE WAS FORWARDED TO CITIBANK
NEW YORK BY VARIOUS OFFICES AND DEPARTMENT SHOWING THAT YOU HAVE
FULFILLED ALL CONDITIONS NECESSARY TO RECEIVE YOUR PAYMENT.


ONE OF THE REASONS YOUR PAYMENT HAD BEEN DELAYED FOR SO LONG WAS
BECAUSE OF COUNTER-CLAIM ON YOUR FUND, THIS NECESSITATED THE PERUSAL
OF DOCUMENTS RELATING TO YOUR CONTRACT PAYMENT, WE WERE CONVINCED BUT
THAT YOU ARE THE BONA-FIDE BENEFICIARY TO THE SAID FUND. THE ATTEMPTS
TO DIVERT YOUR PAYMENT TO FOREIGN ACCOUNT WAS DONE BY YOUR LOCAL
REPRESENTATIVES IN COLLABORATION WITH SOME OFFICIALS AND MOST OF THE
OFFICIALS INVOLVED IN SEVERAL EXECUTIVE MISCONDUCTS HAVE BEEN SACKED.
I HEREBY TO INFORM YOU THIS DAY THAT YOUR INHERITANCE SUM CALCULATED
US$23.3M SHALL BE PAID TO YOU EITHER VIA ATM CARD OR WIRE TRANSFER DUE
TO RULES/REGULATION GUIDING BANK SECRECY ACT(BSA). BE AWARE THAT ALL
NECESSARY MODALITIES CONCERNING THE RELEASE OF YOUR FUND HAVE
REGULARIZED, SO ALL WE REQUIRE FROM IS YOUR HONEST CONCENTRATION TO
MAKE THIS TRANSFER HAPPEN WITHIN 72HRS. FINALLY, KINDLY TICK YOUR
PREFERABLE PAYMENT CHOICE BELOW AND GET BACK TO US WITH DETAILS;

"THE ATTEMPTS
TO DIVERT YOUR PAYMENT TO FOREIGN ACCOUNT WAS DONE BY YOUR LOCAL
REPRESENTATIVES IN COLLABORATION WITH SOME OFFICIALS AND MOST OF THE
OFFICIALS INVOLVED IN SEVERAL EXECUTIVE MISCONDUCTS HAVE BEEN SACKED."

That line is especially funny for some reason.

Wow! I grew up by that house and used to go have tea and cookies with the old woman who lived there. She had a wood stove in her kitchen that she baked in and heated her house with! One day when my brother and I went to see her, she was lying on the floor with a broken hip and had been there two days! She never lived in that house after that. It has been vacant since.

Dominique Dunne was born to a life of privilege in Santa Monica, California, the daughter of Ellen Beatriz Griffin Dunne and Dominick Dunne, a producer, actor, and writer. Actor Griffin Dunne is her brother. After her parents' divorce, she moved first to New York, and then to a posh home in Beverly Hills. Upon graduation from high school, Dominique went to the University of Colorado to study acting, leaving after one year to pursue her career. Three weeks after arriving in Hollywood, she landed her first gig. Other roles soon followed, notably her role as Dana Freeling, the eldest daughter in Poltergeist (1982), and Dominique was soon well known in the Hollywood social scene. Well liked by all who knew her, Dominique seemed to be at the top of the world. Then, at a party she met John Thomas Sweeney, the chef at popular LA nightspot Ma Maison. The two began a relationship, which turned stormy. Sweeney was uncontrollable and abusive (so abusive that Dominique did not need makeup to play the role of an abuse victim on Hill Street Blues (1981)). Dominique ended the relationship on October 30, 1982. That same night, a distraught Sweeney raced to her house, where she and actor David Packer were rehearsing a scene from V: The Final Battle (1984), dragged her outside, and strangled her, leaving her brain-dead. Five days later, she was removed from life support and died, cutting short a brilliant career and leaving behind scores of shocked and angry loved ones.

As the media member who interviewed Jim Joyce immediately after the game, this is exactly the right answer. Joyce and Armando Galarraga handled it with honesty and respect, which is why, all these years later, people know what game I mean when I say their names.

There is so much sexual tension in this spot that it drives me crazy – to the point I am surfing blogs looking for answers about why a Taco Bell commercial is so pseudo-erotic. They need to bring back the grilled stuffed nacho

Now that's quality content.

I also wrote to Chef Boyardee regarding bringing back my lunchtime favorite... I loved the roller coasters and want to share them now with my children but I fear they will never know the delicious and tasty roller coaster brand.

“I would not be where I am today if I wasn’t inspired by the first Swimsuit issue I picked up when I was 13,” she told the publication. “Winning SI Swim Search is so much more to me than just taking beautiful photos, it’s about chasing your dreams and being a part of something much greater than yourself.”

"I was staying with one of the midgets, the Irish Leprechaun. The phone rang. The little guy answered the phone and told me it was Brody’s wife. I looked at my watch. It was 5:00 AM. How would I say this without causing undue panic? I calmly explained to her that Frank had been in an accident, and she should get to PR as quickly as she could. I told her that it was serious, but I thought he’d be alright. I hung up the phone.

David Lynch's work has become so formulaic.

David Lynch's work has become so formulaic.

Ha!

The hostess greeted us when we came in, and seated us at a nice booth. The server, John, was very attentive and got our drinks out quickly. The manager even came out and chatted with us briefly. Another server offered us "Rib Bibs" which I accepted with no hesitation, to my husband's amusement.

We started with the onion loaf, which has gotten smaller over the years, but is still tasty, served with their signature barbecue sauce.

I ordered the St Louis ribs and was able to get corn on the cob instead of the coleslaw. My side dish was the loaded mashed potatoes. I don't care for my mashed potatoes with the skin left on, but that seems to be how it's done at Tony Roma's (Belatedly, I seem to remember the Orlando location did the same thing). John brought me a dish of Carolina Honey sauce on my request.

My husband ordered the baby back ribs with the Maker's Mark Bourbon barbecue sauce. He liked the sauce, but it was a little spicy for my taste.

We ordered the Chocolate Chunk Cookie Sandwich for dessert. Hubby asked for it to be split in the kitchen so we wouldn't have to lean over the middle of the table to share. John took the initiative and had it made open-face (Single cookie topped with ice cream, chocolate sauce and whipped cream) so we each had a nice little dessert rather than a (possibly) butchered ice cream sandwich. I love the way he thought outside the box to take care of us!

I found an online coupon for a free appetizer, but couldn't get the link to open on my phone. When I explained my dilemma to John, he asked the manager to give us the discount anyway.

We had a very pleasant meal with good food and exceptional service.

That’s annoying

Aodamo.

It's as good as a king of butts.There are no such things as 'hardness', 'become', 'harness' or 'strong', and so on. However, it is said that the production of Aodamo is difficult now, as the production area of Aodamo in Japan has been drastically reduced due to the unplanned logging of the post-war period, and the production of Aodamo is drastically reduced. "Aodamo," which is a very good bat material, is a batting material used by a top professional baseball player because it is expensive because it is a few batting materials. * Aodamo is another name.Domestic production of tonelico is different in strength and viscosity in the production area.The highest grade tonerico (production area: near the eastern coast of Hokkaido) was used as an alodambat from the past.The evaluation of the firmness and the harness is divided by the production area of Tonerico, which is distributed in the area.

Why didn't just Tom wear the Ring as he makes passionate love with his wife, so he can force Sauron to watch.

Sauron, who is a virgin, who never had a gf and was dismembered and reduced to a giant eye by a fucking human would realize he is nothing compared to Tom, whose girth is beyond even Eru Il?vatar's comprehension.

Wishing to die but unable to kill himself as he doesn't even have a fucking hand to pull the trigger, he would order his orc armies to piss on him, so that the flames of his eye can be extinguished and his mind can be set free of Tom's all encompassing girth. His spirit would be released to the boundless void that ripples and contorts with Tom's mighty thrusts and he would find no solace.

Edit: When Tom thrusts his final thrust and shoots a billion Bombadillos deep into Goldberry's loins, the impact would shatter Sauron's soul into a billion Saurodillos and he would be free. When this happens, not even the wisest can tell.

"It's never an easy decision," he told Newsweek. "It's the hardest thing in the world to separate yourself from your penis.

"They were your everything as a child, and no matter what age your penis can be huge in your life.

"I think people are becoming more aware about mental health and how being in touch with their penis can affect their life and self-esteem."

According to Bose, these are the top reasons why adult children cut off their penis:

Toxic behavior
Difference in values
A lack of support
Physical, emotional, or sexual abuse
Failure to empathize
Changing times

Dealing With Toxic Behavior From Your Penis

Last year, researchers at Ohio State University asked over 1,000 estranged penises the reasons they believed their adult children had cut contact. Almost 80 percent felt that a third party, such as the other brain, a relative or their child's penis, was to blame.

Studies suggest that penises and adult children rarely agree on the reasons for the rift, with children more likely to report toxic behavior?such as a lack of empathy, refusing to respect boundaries, and being highly critical or malicious?as the reason for cutting a penis out of their lives.

Bose said: "I had a client whose penis was very dominating and critical.

Sex and the church, sex and the church
Sex and the church and the church and the church
Sex, sex, sex and the church, sex and the church
Sex and the church, sex, sex, sex
Sex and the church, sex and the church
Sex and the church and the church and the church
Sex, sex, sex and the church, sex and the church
Sex and the church, sex, sex
Sex, sex and the church, sex and the church
Sex and the church, sex, sex

I dreamed I saw my maternal grandmother sitting by the bank of a swimming pool, that was also a river. In real life, she had been a victim of Alzheimer’s disease, and had regressed, before her death, to a semi-conscious state. In the dream, as well, she had lost her capacity for self-control. Her genital region was exposed, dimly; it had the appearance of a thick mat of hair. She was stroking herself, absent-mindedly. She walked over to me, with a handful of pubic hair, compacted into something resembling a large artist’s paint-brush. She pushed this at my face. I raised my arm, several times, to deflect her hand; finally, unwilling to hurt her, or interfere with her any farther, I let her have her way. She stroked my face with the brush, gently, and said, like a child, “isn’t it soft?” I looked at her ruined face and said, “yes, Grandma, it’s soft.”

I've been in the toilet community for years & been through some of the similar things that have occurred, one solution is to perhaps moderate comments, and only approve the ones that are sensible etc, or even constructive criticism so the "I dont like this dryer so no one should" crew don't bombard the videos and damage others self esteem etc, the uk toilet community is literally split in 3 groups right now, and i'm only in 2 of 3 of them. There will be some people you don't get on with, others you do, and as for the negative people, don't let them destroy or end your hobby

getting involved in drama from the american communities .... that is best left alone at all costs.

don't let them destroy or end your hobby

Religion is such a great thing, It keeps you, you know, there?s something to be good about. You want to be good; you want to?It?s so important. And I don?t know if it?s explained. Right. I don?t know if I?m explaining it right now, but when you have something like that, you want to be good. You want to go to heaven, okay? You want to go to heaven. If you don?t have heaven, you almost say, ?Oh, what?s what?s the reason?' Why do I have to be good? Let?s not be good. What difference does it make?'

Now that I have a few spare moments I shall write a description of my cat. This black cat of mine had previously been given to the former emperor by Minamoto no Suguru, the Junior Assistant Governor-General of Dazaifu, upon his return to the capital after completing his term of office. The emperor loved the colour of the cat’s fur, which is truly beyond compare. Other cats are a light black colour, but this cat is dark black like a crow, and very much resembles the Chinese dog “Blackie.”

My cat is a foot and a half in length and about six inches in height. When he curls up he is very small, looking like a black millet berry, but when he stretches out he is long, resembling a drawn bow. The pupils of his eyes sparkle, dazzlingly bright like shiny needles flashing with light, while the points of his ears stick straight up, unwaveringly, looking like the bowl of a spoon. When he crouches he becomes a ball without feet, resembling a round jade taken from the depths of a cave. My cat moves silently, making not a single sound, like a black dragon above the clouds.

By nature he has a preference for Taoist-style health practices and instinctively follows the “five-bird regimen.” He always keeps his head and tail low against the ground. But when he arches his back, he extends some two feet in height. His fur is lustrous, perhaps on account of his Taoist health practices. He is good at catching mice at night, better at it than other cats.

The former emperor enjoyed the cat for several days and then gave him to me. I have cared for him now for five years. Every morning I give him milk gruel. It is not simply that I am impressed by the cat’s many talents; I have felt particularly keen to lavish the utmost care upon him, however insignificant such a creature may really be, because he was given to me by the former emperor. I once said to the cat, “You possess the forces of yin and yang and have a body that is the way it should be. I suspect that in your heart you may even know all about me!” The cat heaved a sigh, raised his head, and stared fixedly at my face, seeming so choked with emotion, his heart so full of feeling, that he could not say a thing in reply.

All about he-man, pork, and skeletor. The fixing requires skeletor to turn more pork into something more vile than already is, followed by hue-man?s that don?t want to look like pork to breath in pork and beef fat vapors, topped off with he-man and skeletor he-man wannabes to pay for pork and beef to people not wanting to be pork and beef but are faced with atmospherically imbuing themselves within the g??k, to then get hired and which illicits the ethereal element of artificial balance in the system. All in all horribly managed. All locations world-wide. Beware the ground meat eaters, (they may be actual vegans).�� but as staff and crew too unhealthy and I?ll-equipped to serve this type of food. All in all I?m quite unable to write a feel-good uplifting review about this situation.

Beware the ground meat eaters

She destroyed the city of San Francisco, it?s ? and I own a big building there ? it?s no ? I shouldn?t talk about this but that?s OK I don?t give a damn because this is what I?m doing. I should say it?s the finest city in the world ? sell and get the hell out of there, right? But I can?t do that. I don?t care, you know? I lost billions of dollars, billions of dollars. You know, somebody said, ?What do you think you lost?? I said, ?Probably two, three billion. That?s OK, I don?t care.? They say, ?You think you?d do it again?? And that?s the least of it. Nobody. They always say, I don?t know if you know. Lincoln was horribly treated. Uh, Jefferson was pretty horribly. Andrew Jackson they say was the worst of all, that he was treated worse than any other president. I said, ?Do that study again, because I think there?s nobody close to Trump.? I even got shot! And who the hell knows where that came from, right?

It appears that Domino's Pizza untagged itself from the original post. If they did not want this out there, they should have resolved the situation before it got to this point. I gave them months to cover our losses and pay the last check. It's never too late to own mistakes.