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I tried to challenge Peng, but all I got was an indecent proposal...


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Guest konrad
Originally posted by Leutnant Hortlund:

wtf is wrong with you?

Private - you are a idiot.

While I don't mind idiocy ,and ,barely ,I do tolerate alcoholism

I will never ,I say ,never tolerate hyena .

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lenakonrad stop with the pictures. I've tried to be nice,but no more. NO MORE PICTURES, I ... I can't {sob} ... I can't take it anymore!

Joe

p.s. If you don't I may be forced to retaliate with the WMD ... that's right, the Wives of Mormon Dictators ... the <large> Mormon Wife Photos</large>

ON YOUR HEAD BE IT.

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Originally posted by jdmorse:

Kids. We build a world and this is what they do with it.

But what a mess it is. Never any maintenance around here.

The Foundation (Peng): Once formed of massive stone rants. Some slightly cracked, but held together with drunken glee mixed with malice aforethought. Towering in its rage, sunk to the very depths of human frailty. Cemented together using hate, dead smileys and steaming bile left to boil and fester for days. Now, mason and mortar alike dried out and mildly bitter. The cracks that appear are the gaping maws of SSN’s left to chip away at what is left. Stealing a bit to show their daring, only to erode further.

The Monster in the Basement (Berli): Once feared by all and sundry. Which is mostly the type we get around here. The terror of the one-line hit and run. His bark was his bite, and terrifying in its intensity. Able to rend even an armored kniggit in a single horrifying stroke. Tolerance? None, except for certain barrels of liquor, aged many years. Tempered only by the lovely Persephone, in a classic case of Beauty and the Beast. Now, having suffered too much indigestion from consuming countless lackwits, has retreated to the furthest corners of the dungeon. The growls of impending doom have become silent.

The Walls (Joe Shaw): Crooked to begin with (hey, a banker is a banker), but providing definition. Lofty as the ideals of the righteous, and often as impracticable. Formed on good intentions, with absolutely no plan. Trying vainly to channel all traffic into well worn hallways. Pressed and battered into ever more convoluted contortions (Mormon wives at work?), they now have all the functionality of the Winchester Mansion floorplan. Old and rickety from the beginning, they now moan and groan with every step. Barely able to stand up to the gusts of hot air emanating from the latest crew of wannabes.

The Skeletons in the Closets (senior kniggits): Like all bogeymen, some induced mild fear. Others, only amused grins. Mostly fallen to dust. With nothing to consume but themselves, they have starved. Some may return to offer a snide comment. Never have any stayed for long, unable to reconcile their own image as fearsome with the disrespect often heaped upon them.

The Yappy Little Dog (Elvis): Shouting “wankers” at every knock on the door. About as useless as they come. Best ground into food for real dogs.

The Resident Scribe (Lorak): Huddled over the tome of deeds, dutifully recording all promotions and mug shots. Always underpaid (but, apparently, never underfed) like Bob Cratchet he kept his post. Alas, Tiny Tim has died, and the scribe went on to inflict suicide by IL-2.

Finally, The Roof (Seanachai): A few shingles short of a small townhouse. Once providing the final piece to tie everything together. Proudly going on and on. Now, stretched thin (Yes, yes. I know he isn’t. It’s artistic license.) in his attempt to protect all. Failing, of course. Feeling old, shopworn and a bit neglected. Leaking in the most disgusting of places. The gutters are full of debris and are coming loose. Not to mention the backed up downspouts…

Dammit! Didn’t I say not to mention the downspouts? Now look what you’ve done. Some wide-eyed pillock will come waltzing in and go on and on about the damn downspouts. You mark my words, they’ll make all sorts of nasty innuendo about the backing up, and what’s caused it and everything.

Now where’s the damn pissboy? Tell him to clean out the downspouts. That oughta make Old Senile Tea sorry he ever bestowed the title!

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When I was a kid, my father used to say, that under the bed was a sabre-toothed dust kitty, and its job was to bite the toes off of nose pickers. Haven't picked my nose since.

The thing behind the furnace, prevented me from getting up in the middle of the night.

Just wanted to share.

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Originally posted by DUNDROY:

Ahh so this LenaKonrad fellow is Peng right?

No he is the resident idiot, he is about to move up in rank to resident git, would you like to apply for his job?

[ May 08, 2003, 08:19 PM: Message edited by: Nidan1 ]

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Originally posted by DUNDROY:

Thank God I skipped the barrier on the way in, nothing worse than paying good money and getting nought in return.

careful Nidan

This guy's pretty smart. He somehow has figured a way to post here for free!

And I thought he was just some ordinary idiot.

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Originally posted by Jim Boggs:

And I thought he was just some ordinary idiot.

Actually, we were saving that title for you, but alas, you're over qualified.

Oh, and before I forget, I just wanted to say that the loathing I feel for each and every one of you is more encompassing that several universes laid end to end. In my book, you all stink on ice. Mentally, together, the sheer inanity that must make up your pitiful existence tells me that the collective density of your pinheads would make a neutron star look like a soap bubble.

Laying under a highway overpass with a paper bag wrapped can of sterno would be a massive step up for any of you. I've deduced greater insight listening to the barking of seals.

I wish you all would just go play in traffic.

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My dear Boo

The only thing I hate worse than reading one of your.....pieces is having to play with the #$%& scroll bar to move the screen back and forth, thanks to our good friend Lenakonrad.

I blame you and Aussie Jeff. Ever since he got those Spats from you he has vanished from the Board. I ask you, what has happened here?

1. Radley's product was defective and somehow has killed Aussie Jeff.

2. The Spats have given Aussie Jeff a sense of pride that was unbeknownst to him in his prior pitiful existence.

Hard to say what really happened. He was the only one who could communicate with Lenakonrad

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Guest konrad
Originally posted by Jim Boggs:

Hard to say what really happened. He was the only one who could communicate with Lenakonrad

Hard to say ..yes indeed..

communication..harmonization,when two people have a good conversation,`their brain waves will oscillate synchronously.When the frequencies come close to one another ,they "lock",as if they want to pulse together..The goal is harmony ,we are all moving to realize Nada Brahma...

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Guest konrad
Originally posted by Jim Boggs:

My dear Boo

The only thing I hate worse than reading one of your.....pieces is having to play with the #$%& scroll bar to move the screen back and forth, thanks to our good friend Lenakonrad.

Actually ,I will like apologise for this to you , Jimmi

You hate (?) Looser ,and that alone is enough for me

to not want do any harm to you...

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Originally posted by Leutnant Hortlund:

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

Pillock, Yep.

Worthless, yep.

Innovative, nope.

Spelling, nope.

WOW ..such self-awareness is rare to see.

Dont you owe me a turn? </font>

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Originally posted by Nidan1:

No he is the resident idiot, he is about to move up in rank to resident git, would you like to apply for his job?

That wouldn't be fair.

After all I only just got here.

As an older resident you should fit the slot quite nicely.

Although I doubt you'll show the persistence or flair of Lenakonrad the Idiot part should cause you no problems. Unless of course you can't cut and paste, in which case I'm sure your predecessor will show you the ropes.

Is Peng really a Pod?

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Originally posted by DUNGBOY:

That wouldn't be fair.

After all I only just got here.

Then it shouldn't be that much trouble for you to find the exit. Unless your obvious fanboy posture towards konrad has blinded you.
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