| Author |
Message |
    
bets
Supporter
Username: Bets
Post Number: 2041
Registered: 6-2001
| | Posted on Saturday, July 16, 2005 - 3:19 pm: |     |
I'm not a killthreader, I'm a THREADKILLER!! |
AlleyGater
Citizen
Username: Alleygater
Post Number: 583
Registered: 10-2004
| | Posted on Saturday, July 16, 2005 - 4:31 pm: | |
Not it! |
Pizzaz
Supporter
Username: Pizzaz
Post Number: 2110
Registered: 11-2001
| | Posted on Saturday, July 16, 2005 - 5:14 pm: | |
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monster
Supporter
Username: Monster
Post Number: 987
Registered: 7-2002
| | Posted on Saturday, July 16, 2005 - 6:57 pm: | |
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buzzsaw
Citizen
Username: Buzzsaw
Post Number: 2295
Registered: 5-2001
| | Posted on Saturday, July 16, 2005 - 10:03 pm: | |
no way |
monster
Supporter
Username: Monster
Post Number: 988
Registered: 7-2002
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 3:33 am: | |
way |
bets
Supporter
Username: Bets
Post Number: 2046
Registered: 6-2001
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 11:20 am: | |
How quickly I have lost the thread of this tapestry of intrigue. |
SO Refugee
Citizen
Username: So_refugee
Post Number: 586
Registered: 2-2005
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 12:04 pm: | |
My three least favorites words -
Moist
Tangy
Seepage - seepage is never good |
Mayor McCheese
Supporter
Username: Mayor_mccheese
Post Number: 412
Registered: 7-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 1:38 pm: | |
Seepage can be good in some circumstances.
I just wanted to say that the fruit I just consumed was moist, tangy, and delicious. |
Pizzaz
Supporter
Username: Pizzaz
Post Number: 2113
Registered: 11-2001
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 2:21 pm: | |
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monster
Supporter
Username: Monster
Post Number: 989
Registered: 7-2002
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 3:11 pm: | |
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SO Refugee
Citizen
Username: So_refugee
Post Number: 589
Registered: 2-2005
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 3:31 pm: | |
That rocked my world! |
AlleyGater
Citizen
Username: Alleygater
Post Number: 588
Registered: 10-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 4:39 pm: | |
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Pizzaz
Supporter
Username: Pizzaz
Post Number: 2114
Registered: 11-2001
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 4:51 pm: | |
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SO Refugee
Citizen
Username: So_refugee
Post Number: 592
Registered: 2-2005
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 8:56 pm: | |
Nice pussy(cat) |
Pizzaz
Supporter
Username: Pizzaz
Post Number: 2116
Registered: 11-2001
| | Posted on Sunday, July 17, 2005 - 9:03 pm: | |
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Mayor McCheese
Supporter
Username: Mayor_mccheese
Post Number: 418
Registered: 7-2004
| | Posted on Monday, July 18, 2005 - 6:15 pm: | |
I win!!!!!!!!! |
Dave
Supporter
Username: Dave
Post Number: 6902
Registered: 4-1997
| | Posted on Monday, July 18, 2005 - 6:34 pm: | |
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LazyDog
Citizen
Username: Lazydog
Post Number: 60
Registered: 6-2005
| | Posted on Monday, July 18, 2005 - 6:40 pm: | |
mojito $#@% |
Dave
Supporter
Username: Dave
Post Number: 6903
Registered: 4-1997
| | Posted on Monday, July 18, 2005 - 6:46 pm: | |
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SO Refugee
Citizen
Username: So_refugee
Post Number: 596
Registered: 2-2005
| | Posted on Monday, July 18, 2005 - 7:06 pm: | |
Bollocks to Old Betsy |
LazyDog
Citizen
Username: Lazydog
Post Number: 64
Registered: 6-2005
| | Posted on Monday, July 18, 2005 - 8:57 pm: | |
now, now...respect for your betters please
 |
Mayor McCheese
Supporter
Username: Mayor_mccheese
Post Number: 420
Registered: 7-2004
| | Posted on Monday, July 18, 2005 - 10:09 pm: | |
LazyDog, we agree. Everyone should have respected their better, and let me have the last post. |
bets
Supporter
Username: Bets
Post Number: 2062
Registered: 6-2001
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 7:29 am: | |
better not... |
AlleyGater
Citizen
Username: Alleygater
Post Number: 596
Registered: 10-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 11:56 am: | |
bets not... |
buzzsaw
Citizen
Username: Buzzsaw
Post Number: 2308
Registered: 5-2001
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 1:01 pm: | |
There was now no one in the reception room except Prince Vasili and the eldest princess, who were sitting under the portrait of Catherine the Great and talking eagerly. As soon as they saw Pierre and his companion they became silent, and Pierre thought he saw the princess hide something as she whispered:
"I can't bear the sight of that woman."
"Catiche has had tea served in the small drawing room," said Prince Vasili to Anna Mikhaylovna. "Go and take something, my poor Anna Mikhaylovna, or you will not hold out."
To Pierre he said nothing, merely giving his arm a sympathetic squeeze below the shoulder. Pierre went with Anna Mikhaylovna into the small drawing room.
"There is nothing so refreshing after a sleepless night as a cup of this delicious Russian tea," Lorrain was saying with an air of restrained animation as he stood sipping tea from a delicate Chinese handleless cup before a table on which tea and a cold supper were laid in the small circular room. Around the table all who were at Count Bezukhov's house that night had gathered to fortify themselves. Pierre well remembered this small circular drawing room with its mirrors and little tables. During balls given at the house Pierre, who did not know how to dance, had liked sitting in this room to watch the ladies who, as they passed through in their ball dresses with diamonds and pearls on their bare shoulders, looked at themselves in the brilliantly lighted mirrors which repeated their reflections several times. Now this same room was dimly lighted by two candles. On one small table tea things and supper dishes stood in disorder, and in the middle of the night a motley throng of people sat there, not merrymaking, but somberly whispering, and betraying by every word and movement that they none of them forgot what was happening and what was about to happen in the bedroom. Pierre did not eat anything though he would very much have liked to. He looked inquiringly at his monitress and saw that she was again going on tiptoe to the reception room where they had left Prince Vasili and the eldest princess. Pierre concluded that this also was essential, and after a short interval followed her. Anna Mikhaylovna was standing beside the princess, and they were both speaking in excited whispers.
"Permit me, Princess, to know what is necessary and what is not necessary," said the younger of the two speakers, evidently in the same state of excitement as when she had slammed the door of her room.
"But, my dear princess," answered Anna Mikhaylovna blandly but impressively, blocking the way to the bedroom and preventing the other from passing, "won't this be too much for poor Uncle at a moment when he needs repose? Worldly conversation at a moment when his soul is already prepared..."
Prince Vasili was seated in an easy chair in his familiar attitude, with one leg crossed high above the other. His cheeks, which were so flabby that they looked heavier below, were twitching violently; but he wore the air of a man little concerned in what the two ladies were saying.
"Come, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna, let Catiche do as she pleases. You know how fond the count is of her."
"I don't even know what is in this paper," said the younger of the two ladies, addressing Prince Vasili and pointing to an inlaid portfolio she held in her hand. "All I know is that his real will is in his writing table, and this is a paper he has forgotten...."
She tried to pass Anna Mikhaylovna, but the latter sprang so as to bar her path.
"I know, my dear, kind princess," said Anna Mikhaylovna, seizing the portfolio so firmly that it was plain she would not let go easily. "Dear princess, I beg and implore you, have some pity on him! Je vous en conjure..."
The princess did not reply. Their efforts in the struggle for the portfolio were the only sounds audible, but it was evident that if the princess did speak, her words would not be flattering to Anna Mikhaylovna. Though the latter held on tenaciously, her voice lost none of its honeyed firmness and softness.
"Pierre, my dear, come here. I think he will not be out of place in a family consultation; is it not so, Prince?"
"Why don't you speak, cousin?" suddenly shrieked the princess so loud that those in the drawing room heard her and were startled. "Why do you remain silent when heaven knows who permits herself to interfere, making a scene on the very threshold of a dying man's room? Intriguer!" she hissed viciously, and tugged with all her might at the portfolio.
But Anna Mikhaylovna went forward a step or two to keep her hold on the portfolio, and changed her grip.
Prince Vasili rose. "Oh!" said he with reproach and surprise, "this is absurd! Come, let go I tell you."
The princess let go.
"And you too!"
But Anna Mikhaylovna did not obey him.
"Let go, I tell you! I will take the responsibility. I myself will go and ask him, I!... does that satisfy you?"
"But, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna, "after such a solemn sacrament, allow him a moment's peace! Here, Pierre, tell them your opinion," said she, turning to the young man who, having come quite close, was gazing with astonishment at the angry face of the princess which had lost all dignity, and at the twitching cheeks of Prince Vasili.
"Remember that you will answer for the consequences," said Prince Vasili severely. "You don't know what you are doing."
"Vile woman!" shouted the princess, darting unexpectedly at Anna Mikhaylovna and snatching the portfolio from her.
Prince Vasili bent his head and spread out his hands.
At this moment that terrible door, which Pierre had watched so long and which had always opened so quietly, burst noisily open and banged against the wall, and the second of the three sisters rushed out wringing her hands.
"What are you doing!" she cried vehemently. "He is dying and you leave me alone with him!"
Her sister dropped the portfolio. Anna Mikhaylovna, stooping, quickly caught up the object of contention and ran into the bedroom. The eldest princess and Prince Vasili, recovering themselves, followed her. A few minutes later the eldest sister came out with a pale hard face, again biting her underlip. At sight of Pierre her expression showed an irrepressible hatred.
"Yes, now you may be glad!" said she; "this is what you have been waiting for." And bursting into tears she hid her face in her handkerchief and rushed from the room.
Prince Vasili came next. He staggered to the sofa on which Pierre was sitting and dropped onto it, covering his face with his hand. Pierre noticed that he was pale and that his jaw quivered and shook as if in an ague.
"Ah, my friend!" said he, taking Pierre by the elbow; and there was in his voice a sincerity and weakness Pierre had never observed in it before. "How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? I am near sixty, dear friend... I too... All will end in death, all! Death is awful..." and he burst into tears.
Anna Mikhaylovna came out last. She approached Pierre with slow, quiet steps.
"Pierre!" she said.
Pierre gave her an inquiring look. She kissed the young man on his forehead, wetting him with her tears. Then after a pause she said:
"He is no more...."
Pierre looked at her over his spectacles.
"Come, I will go with you. Try to weep, nothing gives such relief as tears."
She led him into the dark drawing room and Pierre was glad no one could see his face. Anna Mikhaylovna left him, and when she returned he was fast asleep with his head on his arm.
In the morning Anna Mikhaylovna said to Pierre:
"Yes, my dear, this is a great loss for us all, not to speak of you. But God will support you: you are young, and are now, I hope, in command of an immense fortune. The will has not yet been opened. I know you well enough to be sure that this will not turn your head, but it imposes duties on you, and you must be a man."
Pierre was silent.
"Perhaps later on I may tell you, my dear boy, that if I had not been there, God only knows what would have happened! You know, Uncle promised me only the day before yesterday not to forget Boris. But he had no time. I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your father's wish?"
Pierre understood nothing of all this and coloring shyly looked in silence at Princess Anna Mikhaylovna. After her talk with Pierre, Anna Mikhaylovna returned to the Rostovs' and went to bed. On waking in the morning she told the Rostovs and all her acquaintances the details of Count Bezukhov's death. She said the count had died as she would herself wish to die, that his end was not only touching but edifying. As to the last meeting between father and son, it was so touching that she could not think of it without tears, and did not know which had behaved better during those awful moments- the father who so remembered everything and everybody at last and last and had spoken such pathetic words to the son, or Pierre, whom it had been pitiful to see, so stricken was he with grief, though he tried hard to hide it in order not to sadden his dying father. "It is painful, but it does one good. It uplifts the soul to see such men as the old count and his worthy son," said she. Of the behavior of the eldest princess and Prince Vasili she spoke disapprovingly, but in whispers and as a great secret.
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AlleyGater
Citizen
Username: Alleygater
Post Number: 600
Registered: 10-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 2:25 pm: | |
Buzz, I hope you entered one totally random sentence in that long post just for fun.
Hey Dave, if I ask really nicely, do you think you'll close this thread up, leaving me as the last poster? |
Dave
Supporter
Username: Dave
Post Number: 6918
Registered: 4-1997
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 2:56 pm: | |
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something witty
Citizen
Username: Buckneja
Post Number: 75
Registered: 1-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 3:09 pm: | |
Sure there is.  |
Dave
Supporter
Username: Dave
Post Number: 6920
Registered: 4-1997
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 3:16 pm: | |
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slipknot
Citizen
Username: Zotts
Post Number: 80
Registered: 7-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 3:31 pm: | |
Dog the by the postman was kicked. |
Mayor McCheese
Supporter
Username: Mayor_mccheese
Post Number: 423
Registered: 7-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 3:35 pm: | |
Hello slipknot, how's it going? |
Dave
Supporter
Username: Dave
Post Number: 6921
Registered: 4-1997
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 3:39 pm: | |
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slipknot
Citizen
Username: Zotts
Post Number: 83
Registered: 7-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 3:43 pm: | |
groovy and hot |
LazyDog
Citizen
Username: Lazydog
Post Number: 66
Registered: 6-2005
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 5:58 pm: | |
slippery when wet |
Dave
Supporter
Username: Dave
Post Number: 6923
Registered: 4-1997
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 6:44 pm: | |
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slipknot
Citizen
Username: Zotts
Post Number: 84
Registered: 7-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 7:02 pm: | |
The three fates, the first spins the thread of fate, the second measures the thread and the third SNIPS the thread. |
AlleyGater
Citizen
Username: Alleygater
Post Number: 605
Registered: 10-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 10:19 pm: | |
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Dave
Supporter
Username: Dave
Post Number: 6934
Registered: 4-1997
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 10:28 pm: | |
(one way to cover up my typo) |
Nonymous Reingold
Supporter
Username: Noglider
Post Number: 8418
Registered: 1-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 10:30 pm: | |
The reason the thread won't die is that a thread about threadkill is self-contradictory. And also because it has become the "random blurt" thread.
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AlleyGater
Citizen
Username: Alleygater
Post Number: 606
Registered: 10-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 11:30 pm: | |
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bets
Supporter
Username: Bets
Post Number: 2072
Registered: 6-2001
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 - 11:37 pm: | |
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Dave
Supporter
Username: Dave
Post Number: 6938
Registered: 4-1997
| | Posted on Wednesday, July 20, 2005 - 12:15 am: | |
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monster
Supporter
Username: Monster
Post Number: 991
Registered: 7-2002
| | Posted on Wednesday, July 20, 2005 - 1:59 am: | |
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buzzsaw
Citizen
Username: Buzzsaw
Post Number: 2316
Registered: 5-2001
| | Posted on Wednesday, July 20, 2005 - 9:46 am: | |
At the appointed hour the prince, powdered and shaven, entered the dining room where his daughter-in-law, Princess Mary, and Mademoiselle Bourienne were already awaiting him together with his architect, who by a strange caprice of his employer's was admitted to table though the position of that insignificant individual was such as could certainly not have caused him to expect that honor. The end is near. This is red rocks. We can whip the horses eyes. The prince, who generally kept very strictly to social distinctions and rarely admitted even important government officials to his table, had unexpectedly selected Michael Ivanovich (who always went into a corner to blow his nose on his checked handkerchief) to illustrate the theory that all men are equals, and had more than once impressed on his daughter that Michael Ivanovich was "not a whit worse than you or I." At dinner the prince usually spoke to the taciturn Michael Ivanovich more often than to anyone else.
In the dining room, which like all the rooms in the house was exceedingly lofty, the members of the household and the footmen- one behind each chair- stood waiting for the prince to enter. The head butler, napkin on arm, was scanning the setting of the table, making signs to the footmen, and anxiously glancing from the clock to the door by which the prince was to enter. Prince Andrew was looking at a large gilt frame, new to him, containing the genealogical tree of the Princes Bolkonski, opposite which hung another such frame with a badly painted portrait (evidently by the hand of the artist belonging to the estate) of a ruling prince, in a crown- an alleged descendant of Rurik and ancestor of the Bolkonskis. Prince Andrew, looking again at that genealogical tree, shook his head, laughing as a man laughs who looks at a portrait so characteristic of the original as to be amusing.
"How thoroughly like him that is!" he said to Princess Mary, who had come up to him.
Princess Mary looked at her brother in surprise. She did not understand what he was laughing at. Everything her father did inspired her with reverence and was beyond question.
"Everyone has his Achilles' heel," continued Prince Andrew. "Fancy, with his powerful mind, indulging in such nonsense!"
Princess Mary could not understand the boldness of her brother's criticism and was about to reply, when the expected footsteps were heard coming from the study. The prince walked in quickly and jauntily as was his wont, as if intentionally contrasting the briskness of his manners with the strict formality of his house. At that moment the great clock struck two and another with a shrill tone joined in from the drawing room. The prince stood still; his lively glittering eyes from under their thick, bushy eyebrows sternly scanned all present and rested on the little princess. She felt, as courtiers do when the Tsar enters, the sensation of fear and respect which the old man inspired in all around him. He stroked her hair and then patted her awkwardly on the back of her neck.
"I'm glad, glad, to see you," he said, looking attentively into her eyes, and then quickly went to his place and sat down. "Sit down, sit down! Sit down, Michael Ianovich!"
He indicated a place beside him to his daughter-in-law. A footman moved the chair for her.
"Ho, ho!" said the old man, casting his eyes on her rounded figure. "You've been in a hurry. That's bad!"
He laughed in his usual dry, cold, unpleasant way, with his lips only and not with his eyes.
"You must walk, walk as much as possible, as much as possible," he said.
The little princess did not, or did not wish to, hear his words. She was silent and seemed confused. The prince asked her about her father, and she began to smile and talk. He asked about mutual acquaintances, and she became still more animated and chattered away giving him greetings from various people and retailing the town gossip.
"Countess Apraksina, poor thing, has lost her husband and she has cried her eyes out," she said, growing more and more lively.
As she became animated the prince looked at her more and more sternly, and suddenly, as if he had studied her sufficiently and had formed a definite idea of her, he turned away and addressed Michael Ivanovich.
"Well, Michael Ivanovich, our Bonaparte will be having a bad time of it. Prince Andrew" (he always spoke thus of his son) "has been telling me what forces are being collected against him! While you and I never thought much of him."
Michael Ivanovich did not at all know when "you and I" had said such things about Bonaparte, but understanding that he was wanted as a peg on which to hang the prince's favorite topic, he looked inquiringly at the young prince, wondering what would follow.
"He is a great tactician!" said the prince to his son, pointing to the architect.
And the conversation again turned on the war, on Bonaparte, and the generals and statesmen of the day. The old prince seemed convinced not only that all the men of the day were mere babies who did not know the A B C of war or of politics, and that Bonaparte was an insignificant little Frenchy, successful only because there were no longer any Potemkins or Suvorovs left to oppose him; but he was also convinced that there were no political difficulties in Europe and no real war, but only a sort of puppet show at which the men of the day were playing, pretending to do something real. Prince Andrew gaily bore with his father's ridicule of the new men, and drew him on and listened to him with evident pleasure.
"The past always seems good," said he, "but did not Suvorov himself fall into a trap Moreau set him, and from which he did not know how to escape?"
"Who told you that? Who?" cried the prince. "Suvorov!" And he jerked away his plate, which Tikhon briskly caught. "Suvorov!... Consider, Prince Andrew. Two... Frederick and Suvorov; Moreau!... Moreau would have been a prisoner if Suvorov had had a free hand; but he had the Hofs-kriegs-wurst-schnapps-Rath on his hands. It would have puzzled the devil himself! When you get there you'll find out what those Hofs-kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suvorov couldn't manage them so what chance has Michael Kutuzov? No, my dear boy," he continued, "you and your generals won't get on against Buonaparte; you'll have to call in the French, so that birds of a feather may fight together. The German, Pahlen, has been sent to New York in America, to fetch the Frenchman, Moreau," he said, alluding to the invitation made that year to Moreau to enter the Russian service.... "Wonderful!... Were the Potemkins, Suvorovs, and Orlovs Germans? No, lad, either you fellows have all lost your wits, or I have outlived mine. May God help you, but we'll see what will happen. Buonaparte has become a great commander among them! Hm!..."
"I don't at all say that all the plans are good," said Prince Andrew, "I am only surprised at your opinion of Bonaparte. You may laugh as much as you like, but all the same Bonaparte is a great generall"
"Michael Ivanovich!" cried the old prince to the architect who, busy with his roast meat, hoped he had been forgotten: "Didn't I tell you Buonaparte was a great tactician? Here, he says same thing."
"To be sure, your excellency." replied the architect.
The prince again laughed his frigid laugh.
"Buonaparte was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has got splendid soldiers. Besides he began by attacking Germans. And only idlers have failed to beat the Germans. Since the world began everybody has beaten the Germans. They beat no one- except one another. He made his reputation fighting them."
And the prince began explaining all the blunders which, according to him, Bonaparte had made in his campaigns and even in politics. His son made no rejoinder, but it was evident that whatever arguments were presented he was as little able as his father to change his opinion. He listened, refraining from a reply, and involuntarily wondered how this old man, living alone in the country for so many years, could know and discuss so minutely and acutely all the recent European military and political events.
"You think I'm an old man and don't understand the present state of affairs?" concluded his father. "But it troubles me. I don't sleep at night. Come now, where has this great commander of yours shown his skill?" he concluded.
"That would take too long to tell," answered the son.
"Well, then go to your Buonaparte! Mademoiselle Bourienne, here's another admirer of that powder-monkey emperor of yours," he exclaimed in excellent French.
"You know, Prince, I am not a Bonapartist!"
"Dieu sait quand reviendra"... hummed the prince out of tune and, with a laugh still more so, he quitted the table.
The little princess during the whole discussion and the rest of the dinner sat silent, glancing with a frightened look now at her father-in-law and now at Princess Mary. When they left the table she took her sister-in-law's arm and drew her into another room.
"What a clever man your father is," said she; "perhaps that is why I am afraid of him."
"Oh, he is so kind!" answered Princess Mary.
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Crazyguggenheim
Citizen
Username: Crazyguggenheim
Post Number: 837
Registered: 2-2002
| | Posted on Wednesday, July 20, 2005 - 12:06 pm: | |
Kind? Kinda crazy if ya ask me! |
AlleyGater
Citizen
Username: Alleygater
Post Number: 608
Registered: 10-2004
| | Posted on Wednesday, July 20, 2005 - 12:23 pm: | |
 
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AlleyGater
Citizen
Username: Alleygater
Post Number: 609
Registered: 10-2004
| | Posted on Wednesday, July 20, 2005 - 12:29 pm: | |
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Pizzaz
Supporter
Username: Pizzaz
Post Number: 2134
Registered: 11-2001
| | Posted on Wednesday, July 20, 2005 - 12:33 pm: | |
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buzzsaw
Citizen
Username: Buzzsaw
Post Number: 2324
Registered: 5-2001
| | Posted on Wednesday, July 20, 2005 - 2:30 pm: | |
. |
Earlster
Supporter
Username: Earlster
Post Number: 1193
Registered: 8-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, July 20, 2005 - 3:04 pm: | |
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