Oh, it's a little tougher to do the ol' give and take when it's you taking the fire. Sorry, I didn't realize you were out of character. Don't you have a revolution to plan?
"Once upon a time, dinosaurs didn't have families. They lived in the woods and ate their children. It was a golden age."
—Earl Sinclair
"I do have respect for authority even though I throw jelly dicks at them.
You do realise that these troops are gaining valuable battlefield experience in Afghanistan that will be put to good use during Operation Flin Flon, right?
By any means necessary, Phibes. Now, be a man and Mao Up*
*the cool new term we agitprop hipsters are using to express our socialist solidarity
rock rock to the planet rock ... don't stop
Felix wrote:you've become very bitter since you became jewish......
Kierland drop-kicking Wolftard wrote:
Aren’t you part of the silent generation?
Why don’t you just STFU.
well they might intimidate you, BSmack - but then the liberal, sandal wearing, tree hugging, pc crowd isn't exactly known for courage and guile.
I fancy my chances against the overpass funeral bumpkin brigade. After about five minutes of artistic expression, I'd have those rubes signed up for the next episode of 'Canada Gotz Talent' and begging for my autograph.
Dr_Phibes wrote:... the liberal, sandal wearing, tree hugging, pc crowd...
Wait...
...aren't you the guy that celebrated Lenin's birthday a few years ago by sharing a lemon meringue pie and a great big bottle of No-Name brand cola in the park with his friends a few years back?
Now, I am truly ashamed of my country.
rock rock to the planet rock ... don't stop
Felix wrote:you've become very bitter since you became jewish......
Kierland drop-kicking Wolftard wrote:
Aren’t you part of the silent generation?
Why don’t you just STFU.
Regimental War diary, 5th Cambridge Front- May 1/2005
Finally a parcel from home! Lemon meringue pie, cola and cigarettes!
I divided the pie amongst the poorer of our socialist parish - we ate the lot in twenty minutes. It's a question of getting as much down as you could before word got round.
Martyred got wind of it and entered our CP to find comrade's cheeks bulging.
'what are you eating', he said, his voice strained.
'weg eahting shome Phibe's pie' came a voice from the dark, sending a stream of crumbs into Martyred's face. Martyred scanned the room. 'Any left?', he said hopefully, but with dignity.
I held up the empty tin.
Martyred paused, clenching and unclenching his fists. 'Next time....'
he never concluded his statement and like an America in Viet Nam, he turned.. and left.