Hakko Ichiu

You want them whole for your colonic irrigation? Damn, that's hard core.

Perhaps they're all enjoying their life-sustaining frozen strawberry colonic irrigations?

Wash them, top them, than put them on a sheet tray in the freezer until frozen, then bag them for later. Alternatively, go to the grocery store and buy the bags of pre-frozen, they are perfectly adequate for your purposes, although I should warn you that there is no credible, peer-reviewed evidence for the efficacy of frozen strawberry enemas. Still, if that's your bag, you go, dog.

His lips said, "No, no," but his hand said, "Yes, yes."

Chapel Hill may have its drawbacks, but there are compensations: coeds in sun-dresses, anyone. And at least we have culture over here. Martin Carthy (ex-Fairport Convention, ex-Steeleye Span) is playing here Sunday night. Somehow I don't think he'll be appearing at the Winston-Salem Waffle House. Still, if you ask really nicely, I might be able to get you a ticket.

Ever scene what happens to a bunch of hamstertruppen who engage a dug-in line of US Paras on a reverse slope? Not pretty.

Matt, We all know what you should really be selling: Grog-Porn™

Now that BTS have entered the book business, it's time for them to start selling what their customers really want. Is that maps, TOEs, OOBs, FMs, EKGs and TLAs? No, it's Grog-Porn™. -- Leather Tiger Press (Amsterdam), the world's foremost publisher of Grog-Porn™, proudly announces the publication of its latest title, Red Hot Nights, by celebrated Grog-Porn™ writer, Paula Abdulski. Red Hot Nights, a thrilling tale of love, lust, penetration, shatter gaps, and lots and lots of hardware: Major Horatioski Nelsonovich, Political Commisar of the 14th Regiment of the 15th Guards Cavalry Division, 16th Guards Tank Army, looked down at the tattered remnants of his unit. He thought to himself, "It's a damn fine thing these pants are a little baggy in the upper leg. A centimeter to the right and I'd be singing soprano in the Red Army Chorus." He shifted his gaze toward the men under his control. "The Rodina expects every comrade to do his duty," he barked. "In this case, that duty is to run like vodka-soaked lemmings toward the Fascist positions." He punctuated his words with short strokes of his swagger stick against his palm. These felt rather nice, so he switched to his thigh and upped the tempo a bit. "Now, most of you will die in the process. This is as it should be, so anyone who doesn't die will be shot. And you won't need your guns, they are simply a manifestation of bourgeois false consciousness. Is that clear? Good. Now, does anyone have any questions?" A voice piped up, "Yes, Comrade Commisar, I do. Why should be waste our lives in a futile human wave attack when we could use a combined arms strategy, pinning the enemy down with our superior artillery, then outflanking him with our armor, while using our air force to dominate the skies?" "Oh, a back seat driver? What's your name, Comrade?" "I am Colonel Britneyev Spearovski, Commander of this Regiment." "Oh, and you think that gives you the right to question the People's wisdom, do you? "I do." "Well think again, Comrade." Nelsonovich drew his Sturgeonski 95 pistol (the one with the extra bayonet lug) and shot the bourgeois splittist through the head. Yet Nelsonovich felt strangely little satisfaction in the act, so he upped the tempo of the riding crop a bit more. "That's better," he thought, "still, what's the point. I'm really in the wrong job. I should be in the Navy. A heaving deck beneath my feet, the bracing Baltic wind in my face, and all those sailors.... © Paula Abdulski and Leather Tiger Press. All rights reserved. [ June 13, 2002, 05:14 PM: Message edited by: Hakko Ichiu ]

Oh lordy, he's in my 'hood. Someone hand me a fecking flamethrower.

What, and none of it penetrated said door and collided with your vital bit(s), thereby ending your miserable excuse for an existence? Next time tell them to use AP until they get a clear sightline on you.

Just a warning: someone claiming to be Dalem will claim that he beat me in a TCP/IP match. This should be dismissed w/o the least bit of credence. He didn't beat me. And besides he had lots more boomy and crunchy thingies. And the scenario came from Andreas, so what can you expect.

Just a warning: someone claiming to be Dalem will claim that he beat me in a TCP/IP match. This should be dismissed w/o the least bit of credence. He didn't beat me. And besides he had lots more boomy and crunchy thingies. And the scenario came from Andreas, so what can you expect.

Anytime betweeen 2:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. EST or Friday 9:30 a.m.- 3:00 p.m. That should be plenty of time for me to gather my diamonds and sulfur. But perhaps I have said too much...

Anytime betweeen 2:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. EST or Friday 9:30 a.m.- 3:00 p.m. That should be plenty of time for me to gather my diamonds and sulfur. But perhaps I have said too much...

I should threaten you with death for that remark. But since your squad of lucky-come-latelies will perish soon enough under the sharpened steel of the Red Wings, and we will hear the lamentations of their women, and all that jazz, I'll demand a setup instead.</font>

I should threaten you with death for that remark. But since your squad of lucky-come-latelies will perish soon enough under the sharpened steel of the Red Wings, and we will hear the lamentations of their women, and all that jazz, I'll demand a setup instead.</font>

I think what you really object too is that the adjective 'hot' does not modify the plural noun 'teens'.

Yes, but the punters would have been confused by Combat Mission: Bapbapossa to Beplih. [ June 04, 2002, 10:20 AM: Message edited by: Hakko Ichiu ]

Think it through, their mom had sex with Croda (we presume). Are you sure you want to wish that on them?

Think it through, their mom had sex with Croda (we presume). Are you sure you want to wish that on them?

It's breeding!! Someone hand me the Holy Fecking Flamethrower of Congratulations. [ June 03, 2002, 02:09 PM: Message edited by: Hakko Ichiu ]

It's breeding!! Someone hand me the Holy Fecking Flamethrower of Congratulations. [ June 03, 2002, 02:09 PM: Message edited by: Hakko Ichiu ]

Much to learn in the ways of the Cess you have, young one. Shandorf with his very existence taunts us. By his presence affronted all things are.

...by providing lots of superglue and...</font>

You Light Up My Life by Debbie Boone Al Stewart For CM3 we should definitely have Britten's War Requiem