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Originally posted by MrSpkr:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Michael Emrys:

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

..are games with them a life-time commitment?

You have to understand that it is their feeble attempt to fill the emotional voids of their lives. They crave the assurance that someone, somewhere is waiting for them. That is also why they also put callers on hold.

Michael </font>

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Originally posted by MrSpkr:

...I find myself more sympathetic to the less able among us...

Gee, I suppose this is as close to the milk of human kindness as we can expect to ever get out of this guy. Of course it only lasts as long as it's billable.

Michael

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Originally posted by dalem:

Lars & Shari throw the best parties.

And coming from you, this mean... well... quite little.

Sorry, I brought the whole thing up, actually.

Why is it that whenever I picture you, Seanachai and Lars together, I get this mental image of ZZ Top?

But without the good grooming?

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Originally posted by MrSpkr:

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

Can <font size=-2>Lawyers</font> actually play the game? (With any level of competence above zero, that is..)

We know <font size=-2>Bankers</font> can't.

We know <font size=-2>Photographers</font> have difficulty as well.

Does their attention span last for a full minute.. or do they have to run a turn twice to get the whole picture?

Can they master the process of receiving, and sending turns on a regular basis, or are games with them a life-time commitment?

Much like with <font size=-2>Bankers</font>.

Noba.

Was this supposed to be a challenge?

However, as I continue to expand my legal practice into disabilities and special needs law...

Steve </font>

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Originally posted by Boo Radley:

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

Lars & Shari throw the best parties.

And coming from you, this mean... well... quite little.

Sorry, I brought the whole thing up, actually.

Why is it that whenever I picture you, Seanachai and Lars together, I get this mental image of ZZ Top?

But without the good grooming? </font>

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Originally posted by Bugged:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Boo Radley:

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

Lars & Shari throw the best parties.

And coming from you, this mean... well... quite little.

Sorry, I brought the whole thing up, actually.

Why is it that whenever I picture you, Seanachai and Lars together, I get this mental image of ZZ Top?

But without the good grooming? </font>

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Originally posted by Boo Radley:

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

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Boo Radley:

Anyone else...? Buehler?

Think Kirk, McCoy, and a Redshirt. I'm Kirk, Seanachai is McCoy, and Lars is the Redshirt. </font>
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Originally posted by SturmSebber:

Didn't anyone miss me?

Twice, in the throes of heavy whisky bouts of self loathing and disappointment with life, I remember pirouetting a Rapala filet knife over a major vein, watching the spin of light on the glossy steel blade, wavy like the light of sun on water, and thought to myself: "Where's that fecking sod Sturmy?"

"If he was here," I told myself, "I could stab him to death, and go and put a band-aid on this annoying blood trickle I've drunkenly pulled out of my arm."

Then I sang a song or two about how the gods hate Belgium, because it's not a real country, but simply a place for people that neither the French nor the Germans want to acknowledge as their own, and whose entire history involves bending over and grasping their ankles with a jaunty, defiant attitude.

Oh, and I'm glad you checked in, you bastard. A couple of months ago, the oldest of my younger sisters called me, and told me, with deep seriousness, that one of my nephews, her middle son, was gay.

I just started to laugh. And she began to laugh. We laughed for several minutes, and then she said to me "So you're not surprised, then."

And I told her: "Liz, he likes Abba. He thinks 'Mama Mia' was a great musical."

She told me "Now, don't be harsh to him. He doesn't understand everything he's going through, and he doesn't want to be a stereotype."

"He'd better lose the whole musical theater thing, then" I told her.

And she told me: "This has been a hard thing for him to come to grips with. Please don't be hard on him."

And I told her: "Sister mine, he is my beloved nephew. I think the goddamn world of him. But he's known me all his life. He knows that I am a horrible little man. If I don't give him ****e, he's going to believe that I have a problem with him. I mean, if I was to be quiet, and never mention it, and was not, in any way, to call him a great big gay boy, he'd have to figure that I had a problem with him. So, when we get together for Sunday brunch on Easter Sunday, I'd like to point out to him that he shouldn't even be there, because God has consigned homosexuals to Hell. That way, he'll know I'm in there pitching, as it were, and am on his side."

So, Sturmy, here's the thing. He's only 21 years old, going to the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, and was raised by Lutherans in an outer-ring suburb. He's easily the most prudish of my nephews and nieces, and is still enough bedazzled by the unpretentious, wholesome simplicity of the religious culture he grew up in to wonder if God will forsake him.

This poor bugger doesn't know the first goddamn thing about being gay.

Is there some organization we can send him to for instruction?

Like the Marines, but without so much combat instruction and killing, and yet with all the same intensive interaction and fierce personal involvement?

Oh, and it would be great if he could learn more about gay sex than what the Marines know. Well, not that much more. He's only 21, after all.

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Gay sex is easy, Seanachai.

1) Take foreign object.

2) Insert in anus (yours or someone else's).

3) Check into emergency room.

4) Get X-rayed.

5) Wait 24 hours, Google search your X-ray.

6) Go antiquing.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

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Originally posted by Seanachai:

Is there some organization we can send him to for instruction?

Like the Marines, but without so much combat instruction and killing, and yet with all the same intensive interaction and fierce personal involvement?

Oh, and it would be great if he could learn more about gay sex than what the Marines know. Well, not that much more. He's only 21, after all.

http://www.rnc.org/
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Originally posted by dalem:

Gay sex is easy, Seanachai.

1) Take foreign object.

2) Insert in anus (yours or someone else's).

3) Check into emergency room.

4) Get X-rayed.

5) Wait 24 hours, Google search your X-ray.

6) Go antiquing.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

You know,to me, you are a foreign object...
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Although this feast of splendour has already passed,as your poofy belgian poncemaster, i feel the POOL needs some eurosong !

So here is the clip from the Belgian participants : http://www.eurovision.tv/event/artistdetail?song=24500&event=1468 .

It's such an amaaaazing song!

O julissi na jalyni,

O julissi na dytini

O bulo diti non slukati

Sestrone dina katsu.

O julissi na ti buku

O julissi na katinu

Dvoranu mojani bidna

Marusi naja otcha tu

Pokoli sestro moja kona

Pokoli meni dita boja

Jalina pitsu marusinja

Kolosali krokodili

O julissi na jalyni,

O julissi na dytini

O bulo diti non slukati

Sestrone dina katsu.

O julissi na ti buku

O julissi na katinu

Dvoranu mojani bidna

Marusi naja otcha tu

Fluitsolo

Pokoli sestro moja kona

Pokoli meni dita boja

Jalina pitsu marusinja

Kolosali krokodili

O julissi na jalyni,

O julissi na dytini

O bulo diti non slukati

Sestrone dina katsu.

O julissi na slukati

O julissi na kotchali

Od nu je dvorian ne si bili

Precko sti budo najali

O julissi na ja

O julissi na jalyni,

O julissi na dytini

O bulo diti non slukati

Sestrone dina katsu.

I've been singing this every day, and i'm still sane!

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Originally posted by Seanachai:

A couple of months ago, the oldest of my younger sisters called me, and told me, with deep seriousness, that one of my nephews, her middle son, was gay.

LOL, oh that's a surprise!
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Originally posted by Seanachai:

So, when we get together for Sunday brunch on Easter Sunday, I'd like to point out to him that he shouldn't even be there, because God has consigned homosexuals to Hell.

I always figured Hell was going to be an ABBA musical.

Er, does Berli dance?

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Originally posted by SturmSebber:

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

Gay sex is easy, Seanachai.

1) Take foreign object.

2) Insert in anus (yours or someone else's).

3) Check into emergency room.

4) Get X-rayed.

5) Wait 24 hours, Google search your X-ray.

6) Go antiquing.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

You know,to me, you are a foreign object... </font>
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