Joe Shaw Posted October 13, 2010 Share Posted October 13, 2010 What international sports teams did they play? Why would it matter? By definition any US team is better than any team from any Goober Nation ... in any sport that MATTERS anyway. I suppose if you're a big fan of, I dunno, badminton you might worry about the South Koreans or something but then you probably worry about the brand of silk undies you wear too. Joe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted October 13, 2010 Share Posted October 13, 2010 In Joe's World (a mythical place which makes Alice's Wonderland look about as magical as Keokuk, Iowa), somehow South Koreans = silk undies. Using this as a benchmark, one can surmise that the Hmong = knee high hosiery, Norwegians = dress shields and Edith Head looks down benevolently upon us all. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Joe Shaw Posted October 13, 2010 Share Posted October 13, 2010 In Joe's World (a mythical place which makes Alice's Wonderland look about as magical as Keokuk, Iowa), somehow South Koreans = silk undies. Using this as a benchmark, one can surmise that the Hmong = knee high hosiery, Norwegians = dress shields and Edith Head looks down benevolently upon us all. No, no, no ... I equate BADMINTON with silk undies ... as do all right thinking 'mericans. You're right about the rest of it mind you. Joe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stuka Posted October 13, 2010 Share Posted October 13, 2010 So by definition, ANYONE can be World Champion at ANYTHING as long as they exclude all others from competing. I guess that's democracy for you... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted October 13, 2010 Share Posted October 13, 2010 You could be World Champion Doofus and you wouldn't even have to exclude anyone else. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stuka Posted October 14, 2010 Share Posted October 14, 2010 Just for that your turn will sit in my outbox for an extra day... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted October 14, 2010 Share Posted October 14, 2010 Just for that your turn will sit in my outbox for an extra day... Big deal. I'm used to you dragging your feet when you know you're about to get thoroughly thrashed. The timid way you return files when you know you're about to be spanked all over the map is freakin' LEGENDARY! "Still waiting for a turn from Stuka?" "Yeah." "Whipping him soundly?" "Yeah." "Yeah." And "Playing any CM games?" "Just Stuka. So, no... not really." Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sir Lars Posted October 14, 2010 Author Share Posted October 14, 2010 I equate BADMINTON with silk undies Didn't know you were in to kink. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Joe Shaw Posted October 14, 2010 Share Posted October 14, 2010 Didn't know you were in to kink. Oh please ... I'm in Utah ... you can't even think about kink here. YOU'RE the one who had a squire who worked in an S&M bar. Joe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sir Lars Posted October 14, 2010 Author Share Posted October 14, 2010 And what a bar it was. Or is, I should say. Ground Zero and Bondage A-Go-Go is still on. Outside of here, best collection of freaks ever. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yeknodathon Posted October 15, 2010 Share Posted October 15, 2010 Oh please ... I'm in Utah ... Mormon Hubbies! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted October 15, 2010 Share Posted October 15, 2010 Mormon Hubbies! If you look closely (although, why would you want to), you can see, way off in the distance, by the treeline, a donkey capering in the meadow. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dalem Posted October 16, 2010 Share Posted October 16, 2010 You know what's better than a 90 minute conference call on a Friday night? Coming home afterwards and pouring a stiff glass of pizza, rum&coke, and later, a Kristoff shaggy-foot Churchill. Plus I picked up a new bottle of whisky today. Seanachai suggested I get something Irish for the cabinet so I got a bottle of Red Breast 12 yr. So far I have to say my favorite is the Talisker 18 yr though. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yeknodathon Posted October 16, 2010 Share Posted October 16, 2010 [meanwhile, its Brokeback Paddock day and in the hastily erected tent where there is just enough room for a ton of prime donkey and small rubber gnome, there is a brief, intense bout of capering] Well, Mr G, isn't this cosy? One must always watch your tent poles in confined spaces... now [peeking through the the small crack of the opening...] .. I wonder if a Justacowboy is going to come through our flaps? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted October 16, 2010 Share Posted October 16, 2010 You know what's better than a 90 minute conference call on a Friday night? Coming home afterwards and pouring a stiff glass of pizza, rum&coke, and later, a Kristoff shaggy-foot Churchill. Plus I picked up a new bottle of whisky today. Seanachai suggested I get something Irish for the cabinet so I got a bottle of Red Breast 12 yr. So far I have to say my favorite is the Talisker 18 yr though. Ah, our own version of Omar Khayyam. But, because Dalem is a creature of the 21st Century, there is no "and Thou". Bloody good thing, too. Did our own Dalem mention that on Thursday he had lunch with Sci-Fi writer Steven Brust? Probably not. I'm imagining that even if he had, he wouldn't mention that he'd had lunch with him a couple hundred feet from my apartment. Oh, I knew about the lunch. I wasn't invited, of course. And that's just as well. Because, if I had been invited, I would have shown up only long enough to steal one of Brust's shoes, and run off laughing into south Minneapolis. And I'd have gone to every fan site on the web for Brust's various books, and chortled, and said 'Ha! I've got one of his fecking shoes!' Well, long enough to have a couple of glasses of wine, and then steal one of Brust's shoes. It wouldn't have really been theft, of course. After all, I had 3 terms of German from his father at Carleton College in the early 70s. That makes us almost family, in some ways. I remember Herr Brust (the Elder). Big time Communist. One class, we began by discussing early German literature, but it ended with him ranting about the ultimate collapse of the Western Economic system, and he did a lovely bit describing empty lunch bags blowing through the parking lots of failed factories. Steve Johnson, a classmate, did a lovely bit of making a sad, soughing wind noise to accompany it. Herr Brust was slightly deaf, so it went unremarked. Just as well. The only reason I passed out of my language requirement at Carleton was because I made a point of sitting by Johnson, and whenever I was called on to give an answer about dative/accusitive/etc. I looked blank until Steve Johnson whispered the answer to me. Good times, good times. Little was I to know that one day I'd be reading his son's books. In a couple of the early ones, he made references to places in Northfield, where Carleton was, such as the Hill of 3 Oaks. What I could tell you about that hill. But I shant, because you're all unworthy swine, and the mysteries and wonders of my younger days aren't for sharing with a shower like you lot. Safe to say, though, that I began my career as an Old One, sitting around a fire in the Wasteland and wondering about complete bloody idjits, had it's genesis somewhere, now didn't it? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mace Posted October 16, 2010 Share Posted October 16, 2010 So.... it was the Brust of times then? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted October 16, 2010 Share Posted October 16, 2010 Ah, my two Small Friends. They are, of course, Small Emma and Smaller Nora. But I have to say, they could just as easily be called 'the Sly One', and 'the Crazy One'. Emma is quite smart, the negotiator, the one who whispers in your ear 'Here is a thing, and we want this, and we think this, and we want to do this, and we want you to get this for us, and you should not tell Mom!' And I am their patient chronicler, biographer, and all-round Renfield. I am the owned adult. The world of small children is fascinating, especially if you're both an observer, and a participant. Parents are not participants. Parents are like the gods. Other adults are not participants. They're like remarked upon figures in the Story of childhood, or occasional party games. Only a few, a very few adults, are allowed to participate. And, if you're allowed, then you're owned. You are Owned. You get told the secrets (at least for now), and you have to play the games, and you have to be treated like a complete halfwit, and you have to be their friend, first and foremost, and you have to do what they want, and you have to help them (to the best of your half-witted ability) to get their way. And you're the best Adult ever, because, technically, you're a Grown-up, and can help them do the things that they shouldn't, technically, do, and speak up for them, and talk to Mom and Dad, and when they need to have 'an Adult along', you technically qualify. But, ultimately, you belong to them. They are imperious beyond the dreams of most Emperors. Their secrets are small, and silly, but they are their secrets, and they cannot be divulged. Their games are tiring to old bones, and the rules are strange, but they are the games you have to play. You have to do all this, or you're not their adult. In return, you are allowed to know many small, silly secrets, play many odd, incomprehensible and physically tiring games, and be ordered about like a slave on the family plantation. You get bossed around. You get treated like an idiot. You get dismissed when you're not needed, or when they get bored with you. But, in return, you get to see them - being children. Not little lives you're responsible for, making them grow up to be good people, who have to be taught, fed, clothed and cared for. Not small creatures trying to get your attention at dinner parties, or running around making too much noise, or incomprehensible beings doing something in the background. You get to see them being themselves. They own you, so they owe you. They owe you their small, silly secrets. They owe you a role in their strange games, and have to tell you the bizarre rules. They owe you the entertainment you get from being their hulking, 'owned' adult. They owe you a small portion of affection, maybe even love. Small, silly secrets. Incomprehensible games. Orders, demands, and rolled eyes that, all too clearly, indicate you're stupid beyond belief. Most people have to go to work for that sort of thing. But when I come in the door, I'm always met with hugs and smiles. I get to read bedtime stories. I get read bedtime stories, nowadays. And they always insist I get dessert, just like them. And if they get a treat, and I don't have anything, I always get given a little bit. With a smile. And after a fairly long life, I'm here to tell you, it's pretty good wages. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dalem Posted October 16, 2010 Share Posted October 16, 2010 Sounds like a typical night here at Fort Sam. We ignore you unless we need glasses refilled. We invite you to play silly games with intricate rules and never expect you to win, only to play. We treat you like animate scum, and bark at you when you fail to recognize our genius. But when you come to the door you are met with insensate cries of "Why are you HERE?", not hugs. So except for that last, same thing. Eerie, ain't it? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Erwin Posted October 16, 2010 Share Posted October 16, 2010 Hey, Joe, I'm in Utah too... and I find it quite kinky once you understand the gross hypocrisy here. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Patch Posted October 16, 2010 Share Posted October 16, 2010 Are you hitting on our Justicar? I think you out to know that he already has 8 wives [edit: forgot also the Donkey], and don't think he has much time for someone like you....so..... Scram! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Joe Shaw Posted October 16, 2010 Share Posted October 16, 2010 Hey, Joe, I'm in Utah too... and I find it quite kinky once you understand the gross hypocrisy here. I've always said you can live in Utah quite easily regardless of your religion (or lack thereof) ... provided that you have a sense of humor. Joe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted October 17, 2010 Share Posted October 17, 2010 Sad news to report, lads. My father passed away today after a short illness. But, he was surrounded by family and he was in no pain. And that's a good thing. But he is and shall remain, greatly loved and greatly missed. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dalem Posted October 17, 2010 Share Posted October 17, 2010 Oog. Full of Japanese cuisine. Can't move. ========== Boo - just read your post. My condolences. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Joe Shaw Posted October 17, 2010 Share Posted October 17, 2010 Sad news to report, lads. My father passed away today after a short illness. But, he was surrounded by family and he was in no pain. And that's a good thing. But he is and shall remain, greatly loved and greatly missed.So terribly sorry my friend ... I've been there with my Mom and dread the call from Texas that will inevitably come about my Dad. Hang in there buddy ... you'll never stop missing them, but it doesn't hurt as much with some time ... as much. Joe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Emrys Posted October 17, 2010 Share Posted October 17, 2010 Condolences Boo. At least it sounds like he was a good one while you had him, and for that you can be congratulated. Michael Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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