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Low walls, Deployed MGs and the Peng Challenge Thread


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Time for a song. Back in the '60s there was a group—whose name I am happy to say I've long forgotten—that released a song whose opening line was—now get this:

Yummy, yummy, yummy I've got love in my tummy

Since you had to inflict that on us, allow me to remind you... Ohio Express

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I don't know what's more disturbing... that Michael is in your dreams, or the gnomes

The fact that it's a recurring dream is what I find a bit unsettling. You'd think that just one episode of a dream like that would either

A. Make you immediately stop imbibing, inhaling or injecting whatever it was that caused the dream, or

2. Cause you to immediately run (Or in Yeknod's case, gallop) to a psychiatrist to begin undergoing deep, deep therapy, or

III. Force you to sit up at night and whenever the feeling of impending sleep were to come over you, jab yourself in the stomach with a cattle prod to stave off that nasty ol' Mr. Sandman, or

All of the Above. Render you completely catatonic, which doesn't really have a downside as far as I can see.

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I'm going to be in ManyAppleLess next week ... but I'm not telling you when or for how long.

The last time I was there I had to personally drive out to Lar's home so that I could have the privilege of taking him to dinner. The rest of the neer-do-wells there couldn't even be bothered to show up so I was stuck with Lars for the evening.

So a pox on all their houses say I ... and I've seen dalem's and Seanachai's and trust me on this ... a pox would be an improvement.

Joe

p.s. I strongly suspect that they were askeered of their Beloved Justicar for Life of the Peng Challenge Thread's Quasi Annual Inspection, Review and Audit.

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.... yes, and in these dreams the 1000s of Gnomes spill and stream over the Emrys as he futilely flaps his limbs around and making strange gagging sounds - just like normal really.

Its as if the multitude of Gnomes want to consume and merge with the Emrys.

... and besides, there are only so many things one can do with a chest expander

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Sorry, Joe, that won't work. I anticipated your feeble attempt at a comeback and preempted it by saying "I hear". Game, set, and match to me. You lose. Again.

Michael

Exactly ... you hear that from the people you talk to ... seems pretty open and shut to me.

Besides ... how do we know you really are who you SAY you are?

People here have SEEN me, in real life, they've heard my actual voice on my long lost podcast, they've seen photos of me.

Can the same be said of you? I think not.

So how can we be assured that you even exist ... apart from the bad breath and smelly feet that is.

Joe

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WAIT!!! THAT WAS YOU???? REALLY???

Wow... and here all along I thought what I witnessed was just the end product of an inadvisable pharmacological dalliance.

Which... now that I think of it... may still not be too far off the mark.

No you idiot, YOU haven't seen me ... thank Gawd because that would have meant that I'd have had to see YOU ... {shudder}.

You've been huffing the oven cleaner again I suppose.

Joe

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I hope you counted the spoons.

Not only did he count them, but our Joe PLAYED them.

Yep. He's one multi-talented Codger of the MBT, I'll tell you that.

Many is the time he's broken out the spoons and played them for the entertainment of all the other inmates... er... patients there at the Salt Lake City Home for the Chronically Drooling, until the large men in the white suits come in and gently remove them and strap him down and wheel in the box with the flashing lights and jelled electrodes, just to calm him down a bit before supper.

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Of course that results in his being unable to keep the food in his mouth until he can swallow it. It tends to end up mostly on his clothing (which BTW he never changes), one more source of his "unusual" bouquet.

Michael

Who are you again? Has anyone here ever seen his birth certificate?

Didn't think so ...

Joe

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