Getting back on topic

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Right, enough of this. We have meandered too long, craning our necks at the scenery, loitering amiably in the byways of the internet. In doing so we have lost sight of our greater purpose, the grand objective lies tatty and neglected. Enough of this. I urge you all, each and every one of you, band together, get back on topic, and the world will never be the same again. FOCUS, people.

Matt (Matt), Tuesday, 5 October 2004 15:10 (sixteen years ago) link

I'm sorry. What were we discussing again? I'm smoking some grebes here and I think I got distracted.

Michael White (Hereward), Tuesday, 5 October 2004 16:35 (sixteen years ago) link

I agree with Matt!

(I don't know what the hell he's talking about but I agree.)

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Wednesday, 6 October 2004 00:06 (sixteen years ago) link

Um...Michael? You ARE smoking those grebes in a pipe aren't you? If you roll them in paper, it's bad for your lungs.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Wednesday, 6 October 2004 00:14 (sixteen years ago) link

Oh...My...God...

Matt said "FOCUS".

I thought he said "FUCKUS" and I've been lying here naked waiting for the girls to show up.

My face is red.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Wednesday, 6 October 2004 00:25 (sixteen years ago) link

The injunction specifically proscribes any rolling with fowl, paper or not.

Michael White (Hereward), Wednesday, 6 October 2004 15:48 (sixteen years ago) link

I prefer to dip the grebes in blissium and then once they dry properly I smoke them on a hatpin.

еdë §téè£, Wednesday, 6 October 2004 20:25 (sixteen years ago) link

Shouldn't blissium be applied topically?

Aimless (Aimless), Wednesday, 6 October 2004 21:14 (sixteen years ago) link

OH MY GOD!

I have been snorting it. (Blissium, that is.) It gives you wings, you know? Not real wings of course. The fact that they are imaginary does not affect the fact that you can fly.

Here's my question: How should one partake of blissium? You know? For the utmost effect...I can already fly (Not outside of the house, of course, people around here have guns.)

Mix it with orange juice? Help me here.

(Marty?)

Yeah?

(Are you drunk?)

Yeah.

(Shut up.)

Ok.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Thursday, 7 October 2004 00:56 (sixteen years ago) link

Hey Zen,

(Yeah)

You thirsty?

(Yeah)

Wanna beer?

(Is a frogs ass watertight?)

Here ya go, but ya gotta promise me something....

(Boy that beer sure looks frosty cold)

Well, you gonna promise?

(Sure, whatever it is I don't care! Just give me beer.)

Just remember...... You Promised.

еdë §téè£, Thursday, 7 October 2004 01:54 (sixteen years ago) link

GET BACK ON TOPIC

Matt (Matt), Thursday, 7 October 2004 13:16 (sixteen years ago) link

I have decided that when I finally win the lootery (or even the lottery) I'm going to buy six horses and name them as follows:

Monday "The Wagon"
Tuesday "Message"
Wednesday "Topic"
Thursday "The Money"
Friday "A Roll"
Saturday "A Bender"
Sunday "The Sauce"

How we will laugh, when we talk about what horse I'm 'on'. On Wednesday's when the ill-tempered gelding throws me, Matt will give me that stern look and, eyes ablaze, yell, "GET BACK ON TOPIC".

Michael White (Hereward), Thursday, 7 October 2004 15:36 (sixteen years ago) link

Pay no attention to Matt. I happen to know...that when no one is around...He runs around his room, stark naked, with a broom between his legs, pretending he is Harry Potter.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Thursday, 7 October 2004 18:05 (sixteen years ago) link

I'm also going back to school to study mathematics.

Michael White (Hereward), Thursday, 7 October 2004 20:20 (sixteen years ago) link

"I'm also going back to school to study mathematics"

That will not help, you know. When you come back here we will still be crazy.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Friday, 8 October 2004 04:28 (sixteen years ago) link

Oh! While you're in class? Ask your professer about Olbers' paradox.

Hee, hee! That fucks them up.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Friday, 8 October 2004 04:37 (sixteen years ago) link

I see you.

Random, Friday, 8 October 2004 15:44 (sixteen years ago) link

As soon as I can find some more of those green stones...I will become invisible again.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Friday, 8 October 2004 17:01 (sixteen years ago) link

They're over there.

Matt (Matt), Friday, 8 October 2004 23:15 (sixteen years ago) link

Where?

If I ever find my glasses, you people, all of you, will be in trouble.

(This edict excludes Matt, who enjoys his spanking so much, he has won my heart.)

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Saturday, 9 October 2004 10:25 (sixteen years ago) link

To offer a specific, local answer to Zen’s query (how to partake of blissium, I mean, not whether he’s drunk, which is obviously a trick question): here in Scotland we mix it with oats, Temazapam and contaminated whisky, mash it into a sort of sludge, inhale it several gallons at a time, and then design a Parliament.

Rex (Rex), Saturday, 9 October 2004 12:30 (sixteen years ago) link

Only to realise that it takes three years longer to drink than expected, and you've used caviar and gold-dust instead of oats.

Matt (Matt), Saturday, 9 October 2004 15:44 (sixteen years ago) link

Oh my...

If we "design a Parliament.", must we have two houses? What a bother. I would prefer to have a king. A benevelent one, of course...AND WENCHES! Really slutty wenches. You know? Those Moll Flanders types who enjoy exposing their breasts and don't wear knickers. Those brazen beauties who, when you say "Bring me another pint, dear.", will raise their dresses and display themselves and say "Would you like anything else, Sir?"

Oh how I long for the days of yore. I...

Oh wait...That wasn't me...Nevermind

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Sunday, 10 October 2004 00:29 (sixteen years ago) link

Marty, get two rooms. One for each load.

Matt (Matt), Sunday, 10 October 2004 21:50 (sixteen years ago) link

five months pass...
Remind me again...... what was the topic in question?

C J (C J), Wednesday, 30 March 2005 09:06 (fifteen years ago) link

Something about grand objections and greater porpoises, as I recall.

M. White (Miguelito), Wednesday, 30 March 2005 16:41 (fifteen years ago) link

Once when I was a child we went on vacation and saw the Grand Objection, or the worlds biggest ball of mud.... or some such touristy thing.

What a great time we had. Seemingly endless days spent riding in the car with the windows up and 110 degrees outside with no air conditioner in the car.

Tainted chicken salad sanwiches.

Flat tire and the jack handle is leaning against the garage door, about 1300 miles away.

Father got so drunk that night ......

еdë §téè£, Thursday, 31 March 2005 00:46 (fifteen years ago) link

Legend tells us that eccentric American squillionaire Miles Joseph was so fond of the car-bake holiday experienci of his youth and the resultant yellowed food treats that he bought a two thousand square foot hangar in Maryland and filled it with cars and radiatiors in order to reproduce the warm festering sandwichi of simpler times. He died alone.

A / F#m / Bm / D (Lynskey), Thursday, 31 March 2005 12:53 (fifteen years ago) link

He dyed a loan?

M. White (Miguelito), Thursday, 31 March 2005 15:25 (fifteen years ago) link

He made Dido groan?

C J (C J), Thursday, 31 March 2005 18:45 (fifteen years ago) link

He died Aeneas?? Sorry, I'm tyred.

M. White (Miguelito), Thursday, 31 March 2005 19:50 (fifteen years ago) link

I am coming in a little late into this thread, so do pardon my historic references along with the new.

It is no wonder the Grand objective is neglegted; what else does one do with something that tells tatty lies.

Who knew Miles Joseph wore a prosthetic foot, especially one that needed to be hung?

My French lacks sophistication and I am left ignorant about "radiatiors". I can only guess at a blatant ripoff of the great French Frock House, Diors. Am I right?

MSW, Thursday, 31 March 2005 21:12 (fifteen years ago) link

The original post instructs us to converge upon a point, to obtain maximum clarity, to gain a fixed reference, to concenter, to behave as if we were the current active application in a graphical user interface and furthermore to bring our cognitive functions into sharp distinction on the plane of this very forum and so without further delay or obstupefaction, get on with it.

Jarlr'mai (jarlrmai), Thursday, 31 March 2005 22:16 (fifteen years ago) link

Who are you calling a 'stupid faction'?

C J (C J), Friday, 1 April 2005 04:17 (fifteen years ago) link

Ironically, reclusive uptight moneybagger Miles Joseph (pictured above) once caused a stir in 1925 by referring to the Red Cross (pictured in loads of places) as a "stupid faction". Why? Well the introverted, sallow, hoodwinked owner-of-plenty-punts fell foul of their anger after a lovers tiff with the then Presido of Da Cross, Benelin Tate. He proceeded to set up The Army of a Million Blue Spikes, who's entire work involved hampering and scampering Red Cross operations. This mostly consisted of their operatives giving rival workers a dead leg every time an opportunity arose. Miles escaped prison due to paying every single man, woman and child on the planet £200 to "keep quiet about the whole thing".

A / F#m / Bm / D (Lynskey), Friday, 1 April 2005 18:32 (fifteen years ago) link

Pay no attention to Parker. He is insane.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Saturday, 2 April 2005 10:21 (fifteen years ago) link

Yes, yes, I'm back...for a while. Sorry to see MP is gone. Damn shame.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Saturday, 2 April 2005 10:27 (fifteen years ago) link

Let me be the first to ask you to pay for a round. Put it on your credit card, Zen. Yes! That's the ticket! That way, if you kick the bucket before we're finished, there'll be more cash left in your pockets for us. Old pal.

Aimless (Aimless), Sunday, 3 April 2005 01:02 (fifteen years ago) link

BEER FOR EVERYONE!

Guinness, of course.

On me. Beer for everyone except Matt. He gets dangerous when he drinks.

I recall that incident with the mandrill. He'll deny it but I have pictures. Disgusting. Really.

I wish England wasn't so far away. I'd like to flirt with CJ.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Sunday, 3 April 2005 03:48 (fifteen years ago) link

Masochist.

(Nice to see you on the board again, Zen. Hope you're feeling a bit brighter)

C J (C J), Sunday, 3 April 2005 09:49 (fifteen years ago) link

Brighter? Oh, God, how I wish.

Destiny has condemmed me to dimness.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Sunday, 3 April 2005 12:02 (fifteen years ago) link

You old decapod you.

Jarlr'mai (jarlrmai), Sunday, 3 April 2005 13:40 (fifteen years ago) link

As the dancer said to the Bishop.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Sunday, 3 April 2005 16:21 (fifteen years ago) link

Does anyone have a copy of that marvelous poem by that marvelous Canadian poet, Robert Service, called, I belive, "The shooting of Dan MaGrew." Due to my failing mind, I can't remember anything but Poe's "Raven" but I have that Canadian poem dancing on the edges of my memory:

"A bunch of boys were whooping it up in one of those Yukon halls. The kid who handled the musicbox was steadly scratching his balls." etc.

I have an alvacado sitting on my desk. It isn't ripe yet. I'm waiting.


Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Sunday, 3 April 2005 21:40 (fifteen years ago) link

The Shooting of Dan McGrew

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;
The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a rag-time tune;
Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,
And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.
When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and glare,
There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.
He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,
Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.
There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a clue;
But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dangerous Dan McGrew.
There's men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell;
And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell;
With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done,
As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one.
Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do,
And I turned my head — and there watching him was the lady that's known as Lou.
His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze,
Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze.
The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool,
So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool.
In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway,
Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands — my God! but that man could play.
Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,
And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear;
With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,
A helf-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;
While high overhead, green, yellow, and red, the North Lights swept in bars? —
Then you've a hunch what the music meant . . . hunger and might and the stars.
And hunger not of the belly kind, that's banished with bacon and beans,
But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for a home and all that it means;
For a fireside far from the cares that are, four walls and a roof above;
But oh! so cramful of cosy joy, and crowded with a woman's love —
A woman dearer than all the world, and true as Heaven is true —
(God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge, — the lady that's known as Lou.)
Then on a sudden the music changed, so soft that you scarce could hear;
But you felt that your life had been looted clean of all that it once held dear;
That someone had stolen the woman you loved; that her love was a devil's lie;
That your guts were gone, and the best for you was to crawl away and die.
'Twas the crowning cry of a heart's despair, and it thrilled you through and through —
"I guess I'll make it a spread misere," said Dangerous Dan McGrew.
The music almost dies away . . . then it burst like a pent-up flood;
And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," and my eyes were blind with blood.
The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash,
And the lust awoke to kill, to kill . . . then the music stopped with a crash,
And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned in a most peculiar way;
In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;
Then his lips went in in a kind of grin, and he spoke, and his voice was calm,
And "Boys," says he, "you don't know me, and none of you care a damn;
But I want to state, and my words are straight, and I'll bet my poke they're true,
That one of you is a hound of hell . . . and that one is Dan McGrew."
Then I ducked my head and the lights went out, and two guns blazed in the dark;
And a woman screamed, and the lights went up, and two men lay stiff and stark.
Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead, was Dangerous Dan McGrew,
While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast of the lady that's known as Lou.
These are the simple facts of the case, and I guess I ought to know.
They say that the stranger was crazed with "hooch," and I'm not denying it's so.
I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys, but strictly between us two —
The woman that kissed him — and pinched his poke — was the lady known as Lou.

C J (C J), Monday, 4 April 2005 03:26 (fifteen years ago) link

Google is my friend.

C J (C J), Monday, 4 April 2005 03:26 (fifteen years ago) link

Decapod,decapod...Methinks Jim has a crustacean fixation. I wish I had tenticles. Heck...Even nineticles...What am I saying? I had my testicles disconnected 30 years ago.

CJ? Don't read this. It's verging on nastyness. Parker is a nasty man. I know where he sleeps. I'll tell you where he is if you want to go over there and slap him. Slap him with a cold carp. That'll bring him 'round.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Monday, 4 April 2005 04:04 (fifteen years ago) link

Re: The Shooting of Dan McGrew

Although the proper rendition is probably bawdy enough, I was looking for the perverted version.

"He pulled out his cock, displayed it to the flock, and everyone's asshole squirmed..."

If you think THAT'S bad you ought to see what Aimless can do to Shakespeare.

"To be or not to be..." By the time he finished, I was traumatized.

"Friends,Romans and Countrymen. Lend me your ears..." Lord. You won't BELIVE what he did to that.

Aimless has no respect. No respect at all.

"By the shores of Gitchygoomy, won't you come and sock it to me."? No shame. The man has no shame. The only person I am aware of who is as despicable as Aimless is Dude Steel.

"Once upon a midnight dreary..." You ought to see what Dude did with THAT. It's not anything to be repeated in the company of ladies.

Horrible. These people are horrible. Jeeze.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Monday, 4 April 2005 04:56 (fifteen years ago) link

Horrible, yes, but such good company you would choose no other. Who here professes to be the ladies? It is impossible to see the dangly bits, so gender-guessing is pointless indulgence.

MSW, Monday, 4 April 2005 19:22 (fifteen years ago) link

It is impossible to see the dangly bits

MSW, please! You'll only encourage the Clown to DROP HIS TROUSERS.

M. White (Miguelito), Monday, 4 April 2005 20:19 (fifteen years ago) link

That is exactly what caused his last heart attack.... trying to drop his trousers.

He started to pull down his zipper and it wouldn't budge so he pulled harder and harder and faster and faster and faster and faster and suddenly he felt this sudden building pressure and an urge to release so he pulled harder and faster still yet.

That was when he realized that his zipper was already in the lowered stated and that he was holding onto something else. (about the same size as a zipper fob)(poor guy)(poor lady that he was married to is more like it)

He startled himself so bad that he almost died from embarassment, literally.

I know that I promised not to tell that to anyone Zen but if your gonna talk about my dreams then I'm gonna talk about your reality.

еdë §téè£, Monday, 4 April 2005 21:44 (fifteen years ago) link

You cannot tell us a story like that and not divulge whether his (so called) penis got to sneeze before his heart valves went tits-up.

MSW, Tuesday, 5 April 2005 19:09 (fifteen years ago) link


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