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Gypsy

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(05/14/08 01:44 PM)

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I can't imagine choosing to spend a glorious morning like this stewing in ugliness and negativity.

Thanks for just proving that!!!

OK. Then just stop responding.

Tell ya what, let's all just stop trying to control each others' behaviors, okay?

True art is moral: it seeks to edify life, not to debase it, to hold off, at least for a little while, the twilight of the gods and of us.
- John Gardner
The Old Mermaid's Tale: The Video | In Memory of Mark S. Williams | Sponsored by Parlez-Moi Blog

mya crakstinks

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(05/14/08 01:46 PM)

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so we are not haveing the party?

captjoe06

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(05/14/08 01:52 PM)

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I'll be the last to criticize. I often use foul language and say things I shouldn't (bad filter).

Sorry.

GoodMorningGloucester Blog -Updated Many Times Daily
Freaks of The Lobster and Crab World Slideshow Dead Rotten Fish Slideshow Boston Seafood Show

leftwingnut

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(05/14/08 01:53 PM)

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Hell, I'm trying to STOP the ugliness and negativity spewed by Pimples.

Speaking of which...

tap... tap... tap... tap... tap...

To announce that there must be no criticism of the President, or that we are to stand by the President, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public.

-Theodore Roosevelt, The Kansas City Star, May 7, 1918

Par Putt

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(05/14/08 01:54 PM)

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life is short, enjoy it, don't sweat the small stuff, IMO this is small stuff, and is not worthy of conversation. JMHO.

"Golf is a game that is played on a 5 inch course - the distance between your ears." Bobby Jones

mya crakstinks

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(05/14/08 02:05 PM)

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booze fixes all problems

o Realist o

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(05/14/08 02:41 PM)

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For the moment only. Then, hangover plus problems are still there. Quick delusional fix.

Foresta Gump

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(05/14/08 02:51 PM)

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leftwingnut wrote:
Hell, I'm trying to STOP the ugliness and negativity spewed by Pimples.

Speaking of which...

tap... tap... tap... tap... tap...

Wingy, you are starting to sound an awful lot like the old poster who was a clam.........a bit of OCD maybe?

It's getting pretty old.........JMO

From MBL website:

"Clams in the genus S******* had long been a mystery because their guts are either extremely small or non-existent, and their feeding appendages are too short to reach outside the shell. While S****** velum does have a small gut, Cavanaugh found that this clam could not possibly eat enough to sustain itself. It has been found that this clam houses chemoautotrophic symbionts (ie. Bacteria) intracellularly within its gills. These bacteria repay their landlord with food. These are so important that S****** eggs are laid with their future bacterial tenants already in place within the cytoplasm." Sounds yucky.

'LIFE IS LIKE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES...YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GONNA GET'

Last Edited By: Foresta Gump 05/14/08 02:56 PM. Edited 2 times.

leftwingnut

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(05/14/08 02:56 PM)

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Still waiting, Foresta. Put up or shut up.

tap... tap... tap... tap... tap...

To announce that there must be no criticism of the President, or that we are to stand by the President, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public.

-Theodore Roosevelt, The Kansas City Star, May 7, 1918

Gang of One

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(05/14/08 03:09 PM)

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Agent99 wrote:

I can't imagine choosing to spend a glorious morning like this stewing in ugliness and negativity.

And yet...here you are.

drinkycrow

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(05/14/08 03:38 PM)

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mya crakstinks wrote:
booze fixes all problems

boozers are losers but with dope theres hope ill drink to that (hic)

MissDimples

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(05/14/08 04:04 PM)

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You are so full of crap, Gypsy. She had just lost ____, which is the REASON you wanted to include her! You're a lying, classless, tacky windbag of a broad ...

As to you, Lefty, don't hold your breath. You are very low on my list of priorities. In fact, you don't even make the list.

By the by, I'll "shut up" when you "shut up." Nothing you've said on any topic having to do with me has any basis in reality at all, so ... tap, tap, tap ...

Last Edited By: Evelyn 05/14/08 06:51 PM. Edited 2 times.

elliegal

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(05/14/08 04:11 PM)

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leftwingnut wrote:

tap... tap... tap... tap... tap...

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

MissDimples

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(05/14/08 04:18 PM)

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Damn, Elli! That poem brings back bad memories of the eighth grade and Mr. De Sousa's English class!

We had to memorize that damned thing!!

globalwarmer07

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(05/14/08 04:21 PM)

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UGH! I hated that poem. Mrs. Gilberts 7th grade class form me.

Gypsy

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(05/14/08 04:36 PM)

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Nevermore.

True art is moral: it seeks to edify life, not to debase it, to hold off, at least for a little while, the twilight of the gods and of us.
- John Gardner
The Old Mermaid's Tale: The Video | In Memory of Mark S. Williams | Sponsored by Parlez-Moi Blog

leftwingnut

[-]

(05/14/08 04:49 PM)

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Well, the point has obviously been made. Pimples is a sleazy lying bitch who makes accusations she cannot document.

'Nuff said.

Most of us already knew that.

To announce that there must be no criticism of the President, or that we are to stand by the President, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public.

-Theodore Roosevelt, The Kansas City Star, May 7, 1918

elliegal

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(05/14/08 05:07 PM)

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Zannylicious

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(05/14/08 05:30 PM)

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Well, I was offered a job last night, as the Asst. Manager of a Ice Cream shop / Taqueria

So, I worked all day long, scoopin' cashin' and making burritos...

I am BEAT

star squiggle

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(05/14/08 06:53 PM)

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i had Mr. De Souza for history at Central Grammar.......did he teach English as well?

not good for your diet Zane...working with ice cream

I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints
The sinners are much more fun...

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Question for the board masses