| Author | Message | ||
     monster Supporter Username: Monster Post Number: 1349 Registered: 7-2002  |
strikes again, and prompts posters of the popular MOL forum to begin yet again, another Threadkill.... | ||
| Mayor McCheese Supporter Username: Mayor_mccheese Post Number: 527 Registered: 7-2004  |
What can I say... I was wrong. I have now seen those words in 3 or so posts today. Wow... | ||
| monster Supporter Username: Monster Post Number: 1350 Registered: 7-2002 |
Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa, Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa,Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa, Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa,Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa, Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa,Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa, Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa,Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa, Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa,Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa, Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa,Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa, Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa,Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa, Naa Naa Na Na Na Na Naa Naa Naa, Na Naa Na Naa, | ||
| composerjohn Citizen Username: Composerjohn Post Number: 516 Registered: 8-2004  |
hey - who changed the thread title?? (Dave, I assume) I was wondering how long it was going to last. | ||
| Dave Supporter Username: Dave Post Number: 7556 Registered: 4-1997  |
I thought I was fixing a typo. | ||
| monster Supporter Username: Monster Post Number: 1351 Registered: 7-2002 |
HEY that's no fair, I liked my bloody diarrhea, we don't need no Baby Unicorns. I don't make posts about baby unicorns, now bloody unicorns would have been nicer...  | ||
| Mayor McCheese Supporter Username: Mayor_mccheese Post Number: 528 Registered: 7-2004 |
Dave, I demand that you change it back. Otherwise the integrity of this whole board is compromised.  | ||
| monster Supporter Username: Monster Post Number: 1355 Registered: 7-2002 |
yeah, what he said. | ||
| Pizzaz Supporter Username: Pizzaz Post Number: 2555 Registered: 11-2001  |
 Let's rumble...... | ||
| monster Supporter Username: Monster Post Number: 1356 Registered: 7-2002 |
Ross Boys, Come Out and Play-eee-yaay... Ross Boys, Come Out and Play-eee-yaay....  | ||
| buzzsaw Citizen Username: Buzzsaw Post Number: 2755 Registered: 5-2001  |
Pierre was shown into the large, brightly lit dining room; a few minutes later he heard footsteps and Princess Mary entered with Natasha. Natasha was calm, though a severe and grave expression had again settled on her face. They all three of them now experienced that feeling of awkwardness which usually follows after a serious and heartfelt talk. It is impossible to go back to the sameconversation, to talk of trifles is awkward, and yet the desire to speak is there and silence seems like affectation. They went silently to table. The footmen drew back the chairs and pushed them up again. Pierre unfolded his cold table napkin and, resolving to break the silence, looked at Natasha and at Princess Mary. They had evidently both formed the same resolution; the eyes of both shone with satisfaction and a confession that besides sorrow life also has joy. "Do you take vodka, Count?" asked Princess Mary, and those words suddenly banished the shadows of the past. "Now tell us about yourself," said she. "One hears such improbable wonders about you." "Yes," replied Pierre with the smile of mild irony now habitual to him. "They even tell me wonders I myself never dreamed of! Mary Abramovna invited me to her house and kept telling me what had happened, or ought to have happened, to me. Stepan Stepanych also instructed me how I ought to tell of my experiences. In general I have noticed that it is very easy to be an interesting man (I am an interesting man now); people invite me out and tell me all about myself." Natasha smiled and was on the point of speaking. "We have been told," Princess Mary interrupted her, "that you lost two millions in Moscow. Is that true?" "But I am three times as rich as before," returned Pierre. Though the position was now altered by his decision to pay his wife's debts and to rebuild his houses, Pierre still maintained that he had become three times as rich as before. "What I have certainly gained is freedom," he began seriously, but did not continue, noticing that this theme was too egotistic. "And are you building?" "Yes. Savelich says I must!" "Tell me, you did not know of the countess' death when you decided to remain in Moscow?" asked Princess Mary and immediately blushed, noticing that her question, following his mention of freedom, ascribed to his words a meaning he had perhaps not intended. "No," answered Pierre, evidently not considering awkward the meaning Princess Mary had given to his words. "I heard of it in Orel and you cannot imagine how it shocked me. We were not an exemplary couple," he added quickly, glancing at Natasha and noticing on her face curiosity as to how he would speak of his wife, "but her death shocked me terribly. When two people quarrel they are always both in fault, and one's own guilt suddenly becomes terribly serious when the other is no longer alive. And then such a death... without friends and without consolation! I am very, very sorry for her," he concluded, and was pleased to notice a look of glad approval on Natasha's face. "Yes, and so you are once more an eligible bachelor," said Princess Mary. Pierre suddenly flushed crimson and for a long time tried not to look at Natasha. When he ventured to glance her way again her face was cold, stern, and he fancied even contemptuous. "And did you really see and speak to Napoleon, as we have been told?" said Princess Mary. Pierre laughed. "No, not once! Everybody seems to imagine that being taken prisoner means being Napoleon's guest. Not only did I never see him but I heard nothing about him- I was in much lower company!" Supper was over, and Pierre who at first declined to speak about his captivity was gradually led on to do so. "But it's true that you remained in Moscow to kill Napoleon?" Natasha asked with a slight smile. "I guessed it then when we met at the Sukharev tower, do you remember?" Pierre admitted that it was true, and from that was gradually led by Princess Mary's questions and especially by Natasha's into giving a detailed account of his adventures. At first he spoke with the amused and mild irony now customary with him toward everybody and especially toward himself, but when he came to describe the horrors and sufferings he had witnessed he was unconsciously carried away and began speaking with the suppressed emotion of a man re-experiencing in recollection strong impressions he has lived through. Princess Mary with a gentle smile looked now at Pierre and now at Natasha. In the whole narrative she saw only Pierre and his goodness. Natasha, leaning on her elbow, the expression of her face constantly changing with the narrative, watched Pierre with an attention that never wandered- evidently herself experiencing all that he described. Not only her look, but her exclamations and the brief questions she put, showed Pierre that she understood just what he wished to convey. It was clear that she understood not only what he said but also what he wished to, but could not, express in words. The account Pierre gave of the incident with the child and the woman for protecting whom he was arrested was this: "It was an awful sight- children abandoned, some in the flames... One was snatched out before my eyes... and there were women who had their things snatched off and their earrings torn out..." he flushed and grew confused. "Then a patrol arrived and all the men- all those who were not looting, that is- were arrested, and I among them." "I am sure you're not telling us everything; I am sure you did something..." said Natasha and pausing added, "something fine?" Pierre continued. When he spoke of the execution he wanted to pass over the horrible details, but Natasha insisted that he should not omit anything. Pierre began to tell about Karataev, but paused. By this time he had risen from the table and was pacing the room, Natasha following him with her eyes. Then he added: "No, you can't understand what I learned from that illiterate man- that simple fellow." "Yes, yes, go on!" said Natasha. "Where is he?" "They killed him almost before my eyes." And Pierre, his voice trembling continually, went on to tell of the last days of their retreat, of Karataev's illness and his death. He told of his adventures as he had never yet recalled them. He now, as it were, saw a new meaning in all he had gone through. Now that he was telling it all to Natasha he experienced that pleasure which a man has when women listen to him- not clever women who when listening either try to remember what they hear to enrich their minds and when opportunity offers to retell it, or who wish to adopt it to some thought of their own and promptly contribute their own clever comments prepared in their little mental workshop- but the pleasure given by real women gifted with a capacity to select and absorb the very best a man shows of himself. Natasha without knowing it was all attention: she did not lose a word, no single quiver in Pierre's voice, no look, no twitch of a muscle in his face, nor a single gesture. She caught the unfinished word in its flight and took it straight into her open heart, divining the secret meaning of all Pierre's mental travail. Princess Mary understood his story and sympathized with him, but she now saw something else that absorbed all her attention. She saw the possibility of love and happiness between Natasha and Pierre, and the first thought of this filled her heart with gladness. It was three o'clock in the morning. The footmen came in with sad and stern faces to change the candles, but no one noticed them. Pierre finished his story. Natasha continued to look at him intently with bright, attentive, and animated eyes, as if trying to understand something more which he had perhaps left untold. Pierre in shamefaced and happy confusion glanced occasionally at her, and tried to think what to say next to introduce a fresh subject. Princess Mary was silent. It occurred to none of them that it was three o'clock and time to go to bed. "People speak of misfortunes and sufferings," remarked Pierre, "but if at this moment I were asked: 'Would you rather be what you were before you were taken prisoner, or go through all this again?' then for heaven's sake let me again have captivity and horseflesh! We imagine that when we are thrown out of our usual ruts all is lost, but it is only then that what is new and good begins. While there is life there is happiness. There is much, much before us. I say this to you," he added, turning to Natasha. "Yes, yes," she said, answering something quite different. "I too should wish nothing but to relive it all from the beginning." Pierre looked intently at her. "Yes, and nothing more." said Natasha. "It's not true, not true!" cried Pierre. "I am not to blame for being alive and wishing to live- nor you either." Suddenly Natasha bent her head, covered her face with her hands, and began to cry. "What is it, Natasha?" said Princess Mary. "Nothing, nothing." She smiled at Pierre through her tears. "Good night! It is time for bed." Pierre rose and took his leave. Princess Mary and Natasha met as usual in the bedroom. They talked of what Pierre had told them. Princess Mary did not express her opinion of Pierre nor did Natasha speak of him. "Well, good night, Mary!" said Natasha. "Do you know, I am often afraid that by not speaking of him" (she meant Prince Andrew) "for fear of not doing justice to our feelings, we forget him." Princess Mary sighed deeply and thereby acknowledged the justice of Natasha's remark, but she did not express agreement in words. "Is it possible to forget?" said she. "It did me so much good to tell all about it today. It was hard and painful, but good, very good!" said Natasha. "I am sure he really loved him. That is why I told him... Was it all right?" she added, suddenly blushing. "To tell Pierre? Oh, yes. What a splendid man he is!" said Princess Mary. "Do you know, Mary..." Natasha suddenly said with a mischievous smile such as Princess Mary had not seen on her face for a long time, "he has somehow grown so clean, smooth, and fresh- as if he had just come out of a Russian bath; do you understand? Out of a moral bath. Isn't it true?" "Yes," replied Princess Mary. "He has greatly improved." "With a short coat and his hair cropped; just as if, well, just as if he had come straight from the bath... Papa used to..." "I understand why he" (Prince Andrew) "liked no one so much as him," said Princess Mary. "Yes, and yet he is quite different. They say men are friends when they are quite different. That must be true. Really he is quite unlike him- in everything." "Yes, but he's wonderful." "Well, good night," said Natasha. And the same mischievous smile lingered for a long time on her face as if it had been forgotten there. | ||
| Rastro Citizen Username: Rastro Post Number: 1536 Registered: 5-2004  |
What hell have I wrought here? Threadkiller is not supposed to be a badge of honor... | ||
| Pizzaz Supporter Username: Pizzaz Post Number: 2556 Registered: 11-2001 |
I'm looking for Pierre, can you tell me where I can find him?  | ||
| buzzsaw Citizen Username: Buzzsaw Post Number: 2757 Registered: 5-2001 |
Great Chicago glowed red before our eyes. We were suddenly on Madison Street among hordes of hobos, some of them sprawled out on the street with their feet on the curb, hundreds of others milling in the doorways of saloons and alleys... ...We let out the hobos on this street and proceeded to downtown Chicago. Screeching trolleys, newsboys, gals cutting by, the smell of fried food and beer in the air, neons winking--'We're in the big town, Sal! Whooee!' First thing to do was park the Cadillac in a good dark spot and wash up and dress for the night. Across the street from the YMCA we found a redbrick alley between buildings, where we stashed the Cadillac with her snout pointed to the street and ready to go, then followed the college boys up to the Y, where they got a room and allowed us to use their facilities for an hour. Dean and I shaved and showered. I dropped my wallet in the hall. Dean found it and was about to sneak it in his shirt when he realized it was ours and was right disappointed... ...But we forgot that and headed straight for North Clark Street, after a spin in the Loop, to see the hootchy-kootchy joints and hear the bop. And what a night it was. 'Oh, man,' said Dean to me as we stood in front of a bar, 'dig the street of life, the Chinamen that cut by in Chicago. What a weird town--wow, and that woman in that window up there, just looking down with her big breasts hanging from her nightgown, big wide eyes. Whee. Sal, we gotta go and never stop going till we get there.' | ||
| Pizzaz Supporter Username: Pizzaz Post Number: 2559 Registered: 11-2001 |
Chinese Noodles make me sleepy.  | ||
| Tom Reingold Supporter Username: Noglider Post Number: 9892 Registered: 1-2003  |
NOTICE PERSONS attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR, Per G.G., Chief of Ordnance. EXPLANATORY IN this book a number of dialects are used, to wit: the Missouri negro dialect; the extremest form of the backwoods Southwestern dialect; the ordinary "Pike County" dialect; and four modified varieties of this last. The shadings have not been done in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support of personal familiarity with these several forms of speech. I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers would suppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and not succeeding. THE AUTHOR. HUCKLEBERRY FINN Scene: The Mississippi Valley Time: Forty to fifty years ago CHAPTER I. YOU don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but lied one time or another, without it was Aunt Polly, or the widow, or maybe Mary. Aunt Polly--Tom's Aunt Polly, she is--and Mary, and the Widow Douglas is all told about in that book, which is mostly a true book, with some stretchers, as I said before. Now the way that the book winds up is this: Tom and me found the money that the robbers hid in the cave, and it made us rich. We got six thousand dollars apiece--all gold. It was an awful sight of money when it was piled up. Well, Judge Thatcher he took it and put it out at interest, and it fetched us a dollar a day apiece all the year round --more than a body could tell what to do with. The Widow Douglas she took me for her son, and allowed she would sivilize me; but it was rough living in the house all the time, considering how dismal regular and decent the widow was in all her ways; and so when I couldn't stand it no longer I lit out. I got into my old rags and my sugar-hogshead again, and was free and satisfied. But Tom Sawyer he hunted me up and said he was going to start a band of robbers, and I might join if I would go back to the widow and be respectable. So I went back. The widow she cried over me, and called me a poor lost lamb, and she called me a lot of other names, too, but she never meant no harm by it. She put me in them new clothes again, and I couldn't do nothing but sweat and sweat, and feel all cramped up. Well, then, the old thing commenced again. The widow rung a bell for supper, and you had to come to time. When you got to the table you couldn't go right to eating, but you had to wait for the widow to tuck down her head and grumble a little over the victuals, though there warn't really anything the matter with them,--that is, nothing only everything was cooked by itself. In a barrel of odds and ends it is different; things get mixed up, and the juice kind of swaps around, and the things go better. After supper she got out her book and learned me about Moses and the Bulrushers, and I was in a sweat to find out all about him; but by and by she let it out that Moses had been dead a considerable long time; so then I didn't care no more about him, because I don't take no stock in dead people. Pretty soon I wanted to smoke, and asked the widow to let me. But she wouldn't. She said it was a mean practice and wasn't clean, and I must try to not do it any more. That is just the way with some people. They get down on a thing when they don't know nothing about it. Here she was a-bothering about Moses, which was no kin to her, and no use to anybody, being gone, you see, yet finding a power of fault with me for doing a thing that had some good in it. And she took snuff, too; of course that was all right, because she done it herself. Her sister, Miss Watson, a tolerable slim old maid, with goggles on, had just come to live with her, and took a set at me now with a spelling-book. She worked me middling hard for about an hour, and then the widow made her ease up. I couldn't stood it much longer. Then for an hour it was deadly dull, and I was fidgety. Miss Watson would say, "Don't put your feet up there, Huckleberry;" and "Don't scrunch up like that, Huckleberry--set up straight;" and pretty soon she would say, "Don't gap and stretch like that, Huckleberry--why don't you try to behave?" Then she told me all about the bad place, and I said I wished I was there. She got mad then, but I didn't mean no harm. All I wanted was to go somewheres; all I wanted was a change, I warn't particular. She said it was wicked to say what I said; said she wouldn't say it for the whole world; she was going to live so as to go to the good place. Well, I couldn't see no advantage in going where she was going, so I made up my mind I wouldn't try for it. But I never said so, because it would only make trouble, and wouldn't do no good. Now she had got a start, and she went on and told me all about the good place. She said all a body would have to do there was to go around all day long with a harp and sing, forever and ever. So I didn't think much of it. But I never said so. I asked her if she reckoned Tom Sawyer would go there, and she said not by a considerable sight. I was glad about that, because I wanted him and me to be together. Miss Watson she kept pecking at me, and it got tiresome and lonesome. By and by they fetched the ••••••• in and had prayers, and then everybody was off to bed. I went up to my room with a piece of candle, and put it on the table. Then I set down in a chair by the window and tried to think of something cheerful, but it warn't no use. I felt so lonesome I most wished I was dead. The stars were shining, and the leaves rustled in the woods ever so mournful; and I heard an owl, away off, who-whooing about somebody that was dead, and a whippowill and a dog crying about somebody that was going to die; and the wind was trying to whisper something to me, and I couldn't make out what it was, and so it made the cold shivers run over me. Then away out in the woods I heard that kind of a sound that a ghost makes when it wants to tell about something that's on its mind and can't make itself understood, and so can't rest easy in its grave, and has to go about that way every night grieving. I got so down-hearted and scared I did wish I had some company. Pretty soon a spider went crawling up my shoulder, and I flipped it off and it lit in the candle; and before I could budge it was all shriveled up. I didn't need anybody to tell me that that was an awful bad sign and would fetch me some bad luck, so I was scared and most shook the clothes off of me. I got up and turned around in my tracks three times and crossed my breast every time; and then I tied up a little lock of my hair with a thread to keep witches away. But I hadn't no confidence. You do that when you've lost a horseshoe that you've found, instead of nailing it up over the door, but I hadn't ever heard anybody say it was any way to keep off bad luck when you'd killed a spider. I set down again, a-shaking all over, and got out my pipe for a smoke; for the house was all as still as death now, and so the widow wouldn't know. Well, after a long time I heard the clock away off in the town go boom--boom--boom--twelve licks; and all still again--stiller than ever. Pretty soon I heard a twig snap down in the dark amongst the trees --something was a stirring. I set still and listened. Directly I could just barely hear a "me-yow! me-yow!" down there. That was good! Says I, "me-yow! me-yow!" as soft as I could, and then I put out the light and scrambled out of the window on to the shed. Then I slipped down to the ground and crawled in among the trees, and, sure enough, there was Tom Sawyer waiting for me. | ||
| monster Supporter Username: Monster Post Number: 1364 Registered: 7-2002 |
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| Pizzaz Supporter Username: Pizzaz Post Number: 2562 Registered: 11-2001 |
 In the novel, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain, Huck learns some valuable lessons on his journey to rescue Jim. He learns the value of life, the line between right and wrong, and how the immaturity of some degree of jokes can threaten lives of others if not properly thought out. It is clear that Huck found his identity as a caring and thoughtful person by the end of this novel. He matured from a boy all about games into a man that now understands new aspects on life. Let's play ball - Go Yankees!!!  | ||
| Mayor McCheese Supporter Username: Mayor_mccheese Post Number: 534 Registered: 7-2004 |
This is a picture of Pizzaz from 1980.  | ||
| Pizzaz Supporter Username: Pizzaz Post Number: 2563 Registered: 11-2001 |
Here's a picture of the club's logo that McCheese belonged to in 1980.  | ||
| monster Supporter Username: Monster Post Number: 1367 Registered: 7-2002 |
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| buzzsaw Citizen Username: Buzzsaw Post Number: 2763 Registered: 5-2001 |
A sleepy person's brain works harder -- and accomplishes less. A study using real-time, state-of-the-art imaging shows that sleep deprivation has dramatic effects on the brain and how well it performs. Researchers expected to find only sluggish activity in the brains of healthy young people who took a simple word test after staying awake for 35 hours. They found instead that while parts of the sleep-deprived brains churned with activity during the test, another part of the brain -- the language center -- shut down. "Sleep deprivation is bad for your brain when you are trying to do high-level [thinking] tasks," study co-author J. Christian Gillin, MD, tells WebMD. "It may have serious consequences both on performance and on the way your brain functions." Gillin's team at the University of California, San Diego, and the San Diego VA Medical Center found that the brains of some sleep-deprived study participants tried to overcome the language-center shut-down by shifting activity to another part of the brain. These individuals performed better on the memory test than their sleep-deprived peers, but not as well as they did when rested. "What this shows is that the brain is very flexible," Monte S. Buchsbaum, MD, professor of psychiatry at Mount Sinai School of Medicine, tells WebMD. "This shows that the brain can move a task from one area to the other when you are sleep deprived, or when you get old." Jim Horne, PhD, director of the sleep research laboratory at Loughborough University in England, notes in a commentary accompanying the study that the part of the brain that overworks in the sleep-deprived people normally is one of the most active areas of the brain. It is involved in complex functions such as updating working memory, planning, attention, sense of time, dealing with novel situations, and verbal fluency. "Some years ago, we suspected that if sleep offers some sort of recovery process, then the parts of the cortex that work hardest during wakefulness may be those that suffer the deprivation initially," he tells WebMD. "But what seems to be happening is that the functional part of the brain appears to be working even harder during compensation -- to no avail, because performance shows deterioration." However, Horne says that this part of the brain gets its rest during the earliest stages of sleep. "Not all of sleep is for recovery. A particular part of sleep occurring in the early part of sleep is most important for [brain] recovery, and the latter part is not so important in that regard," he says. "As we can eat more food than we require and drink more fluids than we require, we may sleep more than we require. Rather than trying to extend one's sleep ? perhaps we should take short naps instead." So how much sleep does one need, and how should one get it? Horne has an easy answer. "The amount of sleep we require is what we need not to be sleepy in the daytime," he says. Gillin and colleague Gregory G. Brown, MD, are planning to use the new imaging techniques to find out exactly how one might get the right amount of sleep. "The current study is the beginning -- the opening wedge," he says. "A lot of work remains in determining whether short-term sleep deprivation is different than chronic deprivation, whether women respond differently than men, whether stimulating drugs have any effect, whether short naps provide respite, and, if so, how long a nap [is needed]." Vital Information: * In a person who is sleep-deprived, one part of the brain shuts down while other parts will kick in to help compensate. * Regardless of the brain's attempt to overcome sleep deprivation, a sleep-deprived person cannot perform mental tasks as well as someone who is well-rested. * For brain recovery, the early part of sleep each night is the most important. | ||
| Pizzaz Supporter Username: Pizzaz Post Number: 2569 Registered: 11-2001 |
What's up? http://www.veryfunnydownloads.com/funnyvideos/BudwiserAd276.html | ||
| Mayor McCheese Supporter Username: Mayor_mccheese Post Number: 536 Registered: 7-2004 |
This was Pizzaz in 1970  | ||
| Pizzaz Supporter Username: Pizzaz Post Number: 2585 Registered: 11-2001 |
monkey see.....  http://www.killsometime.com/video/video.asp?ID=5 | ||
| Mayor McCheese Supporter Username: Mayor_mccheese Post Number: 537 Registered: 7-2004 |
This is Pizzaz circa 1977  | ||
| Pizzaz Supporter Username: Pizzaz Post Number: 2587 Registered: 11-2001 |
Can you post anything other than a picture of, as you claim, moi? | ||
| buzzsaw Citizen Username: Buzzsaw Post Number: 2781 Registered: 5-2001 |
This is me during my senior year of high school. At the time, I was not drinking enough water.  | ||
| Mayor McCheese Supporter Username: Mayor_mccheese Post Number: 539 Registered: 7-2004 |
Yes I can... see i just did. | ||
| Pizzaz Supporter Username: Pizzaz Post Number: 2593 Registered: 11-2001 |
Will you deliver your construction of a house of cards to your physics teacher today? And, how did you ever wake so early in the day? | ||
| Brett Citizen Username: Bmalibashksa Post Number: 1958 Registered: 7-2003 |
Any way you guys can keep this in Virtual Cafe, as it is I check that thread when it’s not necessary. Now I keep trying to come here to help someone and end up reading your drivel. | ||
| Mayor McCheese Supporter Username: Mayor_mccheese Post Number: 540 Registered: 7-2004 |
Buzzsaw - I am glad that you started drinking water after high school. Your complexion has really cleared up. Pizzaz - Early? I have been up since 5:45... Got to catch that early train to the office. | ||
| monster Supporter Username: Monster Post Number: 1377 Registered: 7-2002 |
Are you kidding, this thread was born here, it should stay here. It's not just drivel, it's inane drivel, or shoud that be insane....I don't know, you're the one who typed it....Oh shut up, I was just asking a question...And I was giving an answer you bloody git...hey now, there is no reason to start calling me names....oh blow it out your bunghole you scurvy, bilgewater drinkin' twit....I'm going to smack you if you don't behave yourself...I'd like to see you try, go on then, well.....OUCH!....OUCH! Now see what you've gone and done, we've got a bloody nose....me, you started it....did not...did so...did not...did so...did...................... | ||
| Pizzaz Supporter Username: Pizzaz Post Number: 2594 Registered: 11-2001 |
Brett, please help?  My home computer runs Win XP, with RAID 1 provided via the ASUS motherboard [for the non-techies, RAID 1 is when your hard disk is mirrored by another identical hard disk]. The machine came from the suppliers with XP on one huge partition, and I’d like to repartition my hard drive(s) into several smaller partitions — not necessarily all for Windows — without losing any data. I had thought to use partition magic to do the job, but apparently Partition Magic 8.x doesn’t’ support RAID 1 . Can it be done? How about if I 1. Turn off RAID mirroring. 2. Use Partition Magic or something else like it. 3. Start RAID mirroring from scratch (will it catch all the partitions? will it faithfully copy all the changes to each one?). All I know now is that I’m not the only one who wants the answer to this one… | ||
| Mayor McCheese Supporter Username: Mayor_mccheese Post Number: 541 Registered: 7-2004 |
Pizzaz - I am sure that you have no idea what you just said. Brett - If you do not want to read absolute nonsense, then I recommend that you do not look into threads entitled "baby unicorns." Monster - I am only going to say this once, you smell. | ||
| buzzsaw Citizen Username: Buzzsaw Post Number: 2782 Registered: 5-2001 |
 What your mare will need, however, is a clean, safe, quiet place to foal. Horses have been giving birth on the open range for eons, and this is still an acceptable choice. Allowing the mare to foal in the pasture even has some advantages. An open grassy area is likely to be cleaner than a stall and provides a healthy environment with adequate room to foal. You won't have to worry about the mare crowding into a corner or foaling too close to a wall. However, many owners prefer to confine the mare to observe her progress. Should you choose to foal your mare in a stall, provide one that is a minimum of 14' x 14'. If possible, the stall should have a floor that can be readily cleaned and disinfected. Dirt or day floors make sanitation more difficult. Also, provide adequate clean bedding. Straw (particularly wheat straw) is preferable to shavings, as it won't cling to the wet newborn or mare the way small wood particles can. Remove manure and soiled bedding promptly, and disinfect the stall between deliveries. | ||
| monster Supporter Username: Monster Post Number: 1380 Registered: 7-2002 |
what do I smell? Oh, you mean that rotten limberger McCheese smell? No matter how long it's been since I've seen you I just can't shake that smell, it seems to be everywhere, he wait a minute, are your stalking me? | ||
| Matt Foley Citizen Username: Mattfoley Post Number: 439 Registered: 6-2004  |
I was going to stay out of this until I saw WEEN!. God,Ween,Satan! | ||
| buzzsaw Citizen Username: Buzzsaw Post Number: 2786 Registered: 5-2001 |
'strap on that jammy pac' is the new starway to heaven. it really really really really is. | ||
| monster Supporter Username: Monster Post Number: 1381 Registered: 7-2002 |
What your Mayor will need, however, is a clean, safe, quiet place to foal. Mayors have been giving birth on the open range for eons, and this is still an acceptable choice. Allowing the Mayor to foal in the pasture even has some advantages. An open grassy area is likely to be cleaner than a stall and provides a healthy environment with adequate room to foal. You won't have to worry about the Mayor crowding into a corner or foaling too close to a wall. However, many owners prefer to confine the Mayor to observe the progress. Should you choose to foal your Mayor in a stall, provide one that is a minimum of 14' x 14'. If possible, the stall should have a floor that can be readily cleaned and disinfected. Dirt or day floors make sanitation more difficult. Also, provide adequate clean bedding. Straw (particularly wheat straw) is preferable to shavings, as it won't cling to the wet newborn or Mayor the way small wood particles can. Remove manure and soiled bedding promptly, and disinfect the stall between deliveries. |
