Yeknodathon

[procedes to process a sprout at body temperature]

First I was afraid I was petrified Kept thinking I could never live without you by my knee But I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong I grew strong I learned how to carry on and so you're back from outer space I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face I should have changed my stupid lock I should have made you leave your key If I had known for just one second you'd be back to bother me Go on now go walk out the door just turn around now 'cause you're not welcome anymore weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye you think I'd crumble you think I'd lay down and die Oh no, not I I will survive as long as i know how to love I know I will stay alive I've got all my life to live I've got all my hate to give and I'll survive I will survive It took all the strength I had not to fall apart kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart and I spent oh so many nights just feeling sorry for myself I used to cry Now I hold my head up high and you see me somebody new I've got that chained up little person still in love with Boo and so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me

Post with links and pictures from obscure blog sites showing that toothpicks are not suitable for MOUT operations and orginated from technology taken from Roswell alien spaceships.

... if one wants to heat a sprout up to body temperature on a winter morning...

Oh, just a suppository moment.

Yet another tedious retelling of an Israeli encounter where their tanks came back entangled in guided missile wire therefore demonstrating that things on wires often get trapped on objects when hurled over significant distances.

A Spoonful of Radley helps the medicine go down The medicine go down-wown The medicine go down Just a spoonful of Radley helps the medicine go down In a most delightful way

Casual comment that if this post was on a Syrian forum and not part of the Republican Guard it wouldn't reach halfway down page 1.

... or the spaces between 'em...

Eh, parody? ... No, no, no... a lament!

Oh, another one that could roll off me tongue...

Rollin' Rollin' Rollin' Keep movin', movin', movin', Though they're disapprovin', Keep them bankers movin' Rawhide! Don't try to understand 'em, Just rope and throw and grab 'em, Soon we'll be living high and wide. Boy my heart's calculatin' My true love will be waitin', be waiting at the end of my ride. Move 'em on, head 'em up, Head 'em up, move 'em out, Move 'em on, head 'em out Rawhide! Set 'em out, ride 'em in Ride 'em in, let 'em out, Cut 'em out, ride 'em in Rawhide. Rollin', rollin', rollin' Rollin', rollin', rollin' Rollin', rollin', rollin' Rollin', rollin', rollin' Rawhide! Rollin', rollin', rollin' Though the streams are swollen Keep them bankers rollin' Rawhide! Rain and wind and weather Hell-bent for leather Wishin' my gal was by my side. All the things I'm missin', Good vittles, love, and kissin', Are waiting at the end of my ride Move 'em on, head 'em up Head 'em up, move 'em on Move 'em on, head 'em up Rawhide Count 'em out, ride 'em in, Ride 'em in, count 'em out, Count 'em out, ride 'em in Rawhide! Keep movin', movin', movin' Though they're disapprovin' Keep them bankers movin' Rawhide! Don't try to understand 'em Just rope, throw, and count 'em Soon we'll be living high and wide. My hearts calculatin' My true love will be waitin', Be waitin' at the end of my ride. Rawhide! Rawhide! [ February 04, 2006, 11:05 PM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

... Lone star Justicar...

In a previous life you were a donkey and your psychological profile is too disturbing to show Oh, how very interesting. One would never have guessed.

Oh, dear... no one point, no one point.

Booper scooper.

What? (staring down between fore limbs] It's not hairy enough?

So when do you commit suicide? </font>

I am... [gazing into the middle ground with a misty, emotional eye] ...Cleopatra to their Marc Anthony and much as they may try their custom could not stale me infinite variety.

[plodding past the gate, tail limp with boredom] ... effluent stool gushing through yer sluice gates of grammar, syntax and vocabulary to border, hinder and trap... [tail twitches with momentary interest] UNWANTED MATTER.

Saturn on a diet... *snort*

[rolls out a plump sprout from behind a Paddock bush]

Pony Gnomes

... keeps him in the locked cupboard...

[from behind the Paddock redoubt] Mister Witt, be quiet now, will you? There's a good gentleman. You'll upset the lads.