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Boo Radley

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Posts posted by Boo Radley

  1. Originally posted by Stuka:

    And what may transpire in the heat of battle, with death at every turn, when a young, voluptous rear gunner does not know when her next breath will be her last and the scent of the leather clad, handsome yet slightly aloof pilot in whose masculine hands her destiny lies, fills her nostrils while the perspiration from the heat of voracious combat trickles sensously between her heaving bosoms, leaving salty marks in her lacy, white brassiere cannot be construed as adultery in any way, can it?

    Well...OK... after reading that, I can tell you that any plans for lunch go right out the window for me today. The nausea is just too overwhelming.

    I think I would rather be forced to sit and watch an endless loop of Brando's huge pallid hinder, undulating in that unbelievably terrifying love scene found in the bottomlessly horrible movie "Last Tango", than have to read Sticky's narcotic induced fever dream again.

  2. Originally posted by Lars:

    But, in the interest of gouging lower class Midwesterners and getting paid in returnable bottles, used bus ticket stubs and false teeth, I did a brief search.

    Ohio: State Motto “At Least We're Not Michigan”

    <big>"SNIPPED for brevity"</big>

    Grog State! Grog State! Grog State! Grog State!

    Alas, tis all too true. I admit it, but with some justification. When we were just a young state, still with down on our dew-bespecked cheeks, we fell in with older, more jaded states that led us astray.

    The chief perpetrator of this callous and heinous act was the state immediately to our left, Pennsyltoonia, or something like that. A raw, rough-housing state with a monstrous belly that hangs precariously over a belt buckle the size of a serving tray. A state where men and women both engage in all sorts of jiggery-pokery late into the night by the dim green, radioactive glow of Three Mile Island.

    So, if we did enact some laws that would only seem to fit into the Bizarro universe of Superman comics, I lay the blame at the door of our lowbrow neighbors.

    [ April 17, 2002, 10:45 AM: Message edited by: Boo_Radley ]

  3. Originally posted by Lars:

    The gubmint expects a well run hovel to meet building codes.

    Whereas a private enterprise can paper the walls with old newspapers (use the comic section for a cheerful look), leave the rats to nibble on the wiring (noise, what noise?), require a credit check fee (woo hoo, extra beer money), change lease agreements at a whim (says two people, sorry, the newborn has to go), discriminate based on color (green), keep the damage deposit (see that, you walked on the carpet, that ain't coming out), use lead paint (free chips for the kiddies!), arbitrarily raise the rent (more beer money), etc.

    Mmm, I get a warm fuzzy just thinking about it.

    Have you ever had rental properties in Ohio? If so, I believe we have met.
  4. Originally posted by Croda:

    </font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Berlichtingen:

    Which drunken, idiot knight does Boo belong to?

    It would belong to me. And suck-scum as it does, at least it's posts are only semi-drivelous in nature AND it may be the first cretin yet to actually complete a Crodaburg™ Challenge. That alone is a feat worthy of a seat that keeps it's head above water.

    If you're into Squirely Challenges...well, it is playing that Donkey Character, but we can always flog him some more.</font>

  5. Originally posted by Yeknodathon:

    Is this a disco? I hate discos. Let me guess, Berli's throbbing to the Bee-Gees

    Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk,

    I'm a woman's man: no time to talk.

    Music loud and women warm, I've been kicked around since I was born.

    And now it's all right. It's OK. And you may look the other way.

    We can try to understand the New York Times' effect on man.

    Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother,

    you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.

    Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin',

    and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.

    Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive.

    Well now, I get low and I get high, and if I can't get either, I really try.

    Pathetic.

    Yeknod Mono-drone de Lurk

    I never, ever EVER want to see anything even remotely related to either Disco OR the Bee-Gee's ever again!

    Disco is a tool of the devil and the Bee-Gee's are his serpent-tongued minions.

    And to think that you actually knew the lyrics...you should be taken out somewhere and maimed.

  6. AJBoo+AAR.jpg?bcdtUC9A.LofPpsz

    My Lord Croda the Corosive! My first Peng victory! Granted, it isn't a huge victory. Not even a pretty victory. You could even say that as victories go, this one pretty much blows. But my staunch English greenies held their own against the nefarious hordes of Volksgummers commanded by that denizen of down under, Aussie-Less.

    Victory does indeed taste sweet.

  7. Originally posted by Sgt_K:

    Hail and well met all! I'm as nervous as an altar boy in the rectory posting here, but what the hell, I can take the abuse, I may even learn to enjoy it.

    You know, there is not one part of that sentence that I feel even remotely comfortable with. Look...he even made me end a sentence with a preposition and I don't do that!

    Somebody take this puling gandy dancer of a Sgt. Canine person elsewhere.

    No, I'm serious. Hie him hence, at once.

  8. Originally posted by R_Leete:

    P.S. Crodaburg is a never ending travesty. Boo Radley sends waves of troops to die, and yet still more wash up against the noble German defenders.

    I'm sorry. Are they indeed noble? My fault. I guess it's just hard to notice nobility in a person when all you see is their backside as they're scampering away from you into the woods.

    Edited because life is constant change.
    And with you it's the small change most commonly found in seat cushions.
  9. Originally posted by Seanachai:

    A man who would eat squash would eat animal feces with a decorative toothpick thrust into it.

    Oh, now you're really hitting me where it hurts Shakey-knees, my culinary skills! Well, it would hurt if it were given by anyone who didn't live in an area which considered haute cuisine to be a buffet of Lutefisk and hunks of cheese the size of car batteries. Or perhaps going down to the "Sons of Knute" lodge for square dancing and endless tupperware containers filled with congealed tuna hot dish. Mmmmm! Thems good eats.
  10. Originally posted by Simon Elwen:

    I am patient however ,

    I will remind you of the words of your own Thomas Jefferson "Never put off 'till tommorow what you can do today"

    Words to live by indeed. But as I am at the office and am unable to send you a set up at the moment and how later this evening I plan on visiting the local pub and whoopee emporium, you will have to wait until tomorrow. But I can still mock and taunt you today, so it's not a total waste of time.

    It's a total waste of MY time, of course, but think of this as a seasoning period for yourself, you bootless, beef-witted bum-bailey. Gird those so-called loins of yours and prepare to be beaten like a red-headed step-child, for I can only be paid off in blood. Blood, do you hear me? BLOOD! Or fresh produce, BUT I PREFER BLOOD! Unless the acorn squash still looks good, I've been serving them filled with sauteed veggies and I think if I add some sharp cheddar cheese it'll knock your socks off.

    So, until tommorow!

  11. I have decreed that winter is over in the northern hemisphere.

    To that end, I have dispensed with wearing flannel shirts and for the first time since early last October, I am wearing a short-sleeved knit shirt.

    You may all thank me at your convenience and if you choose not to thank me, you may all kindly sod off. Again, at your convenience.

    And as for you Sighing Ill-Wind (not bolded because you're a damn S.S.N. and because I'm in a hurry) remember the words of Benjamin Disrali, "All things come to he who has patience."

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