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BS: The Mother of all BS threads

Janie 30 Nov 07 - 11:30 PM
Amos 01 Dec 07 - 05:57 AM
Rapparee 01 Dec 07 - 09:09 AM
Amos 01 Dec 07 - 09:20 AM
Rapparee 01 Dec 07 - 09:24 AM
Amos 01 Dec 07 - 09:41 AM
Acme 01 Dec 07 - 11:49 AM
Amos 01 Dec 07 - 02:37 PM
Rapparee 01 Dec 07 - 03:24 PM
Amos 01 Dec 07 - 03:41 PM
Amos 01 Dec 07 - 03:57 PM
Rapparee 01 Dec 07 - 05:56 PM
Amos 01 Dec 07 - 11:21 PM
Amos 02 Dec 07 - 08:34 AM
Acme 02 Dec 07 - 12:08 PM
Acme 02 Dec 07 - 07:01 PM
Amos 02 Dec 07 - 07:01 PM
Janie 02 Dec 07 - 07:35 PM
Janie 02 Dec 07 - 07:51 PM
Rapparee 02 Dec 07 - 08:34 PM
Amos 02 Dec 07 - 11:01 PM
Janie 02 Dec 07 - 11:27 PM
Janie 02 Dec 07 - 11:41 PM
Little Hawk 03 Dec 07 - 12:10 AM
Acme 03 Dec 07 - 12:38 AM
Rapparee 03 Dec 07 - 09:06 AM
Amos 03 Dec 07 - 09:55 AM
Amos 03 Dec 07 - 10:03 AM
Amos 03 Dec 07 - 02:44 PM
Rapparee 03 Dec 07 - 03:03 PM
Little Hawk 03 Dec 07 - 03:20 PM
Amos 03 Dec 07 - 03:57 PM
Little Hawk 03 Dec 07 - 05:40 PM
Amos 03 Dec 07 - 05:56 PM
Amos 03 Dec 07 - 05:57 PM
Little Hawk 03 Dec 07 - 06:32 PM
Acme 03 Dec 07 - 06:53 PM
Donuel 03 Dec 07 - 07:04 PM
Amos 03 Dec 07 - 07:43 PM
Amos 03 Dec 07 - 08:17 PM
Little Hawk 03 Dec 07 - 08:36 PM
GUEST,Blind DRunk in Blind River 03 Dec 07 - 08:47 PM
Janie 03 Dec 07 - 09:40 PM
Janie 03 Dec 07 - 09:42 PM
Little Hawk 03 Dec 07 - 10:18 PM
Amos 03 Dec 07 - 10:19 PM
Little Hawk 03 Dec 07 - 10:20 PM
Little Hawk 03 Dec 07 - 10:23 PM
Amos 03 Dec 07 - 10:25 PM
Janie 03 Dec 07 - 10:41 PM
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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 30 Nov 07 - 11:30 PM

Well then, please dig me and ma a hole. We got fresh apple cakes to bake, we got shortbread to pat out, we got pecans to roast with our top secret family seasonings, we got sweet potato-cranberry muffins to pour into our fancy bundt-shaped muffin pans, we got biscotti sliced and ready for that second crispin' (I think the ashes drifted over the top are right pretty, and lend an interesting texture, don't you?), and, Oh yeh, I saw a groundhog out by the road that is swelled up just right for supper so it won't take so long to get tender.


No kidding, I don't much enjoy skinning and butchering animals, but have done so, and groundhog has got to be the toughest mammal in the Western hemisphere to skin. Must be why, if you can find one big enough, they make such nice drumheads.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 05:57 AM

Janie:

I dug you a hole. I have sent it along by UPS. Be careful opening the box; make sure you have decided where you want the hole before unsealing it. No feeding is required.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 09:09 AM

Here's a much better hole that what Amos sent you. But I also suggest that you be careful with it.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 09:20 AM

Better? How you 'speck Miss Janie to color-coordinate a black hole, wise guy? Answer me that!



A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 09:24 AM

It's a Blue Event horizon, Amos.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 09:41 AM

Well, I think it sucks.


And here twenty- eight - and sixty boys,
The rails are getting warm.
The fire box is stoking up,
As we head into the storm.
Old Twenty-eights a mighty train
And rides a mighty line,
But she's still got several grades to face
On the way to Twenty Nine.
The pressure in the boiler's high
And the driver's in his cups.
The sky ahead is thick with rain,
And the wind is picking up.
But on the wheels, and on the rods,
And on the burnished line!
The MOAB crew has a job to do,
Gettin' to Twenty-Nine.
And the folks know we will do it, why,
They know it sure as shootin'.
They stand with all their children by,
And cheer the driver's tootin'
And wave until the last car's gone,
Over the hills of Time,
Into the mists of the gathering storm,
On the way to Twenty Nine.

Jacob Pandamus Groper
Songs of a Prairie Hopeless
Paynin, Meoirich, & Butte, Dublin, 1954


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 11:49 AM

I spent my childhood summers in a rural area at the edge of a large lake in Washington State. There was a store with a gas pump and we bought gas and oil for the outboard motor and sometimes groceries there. My parents went to school and worked and left us to be cared for by an old friend (still a friend, and she's 93 now!) who lived on a dairy farm that was adjacent to that store (they owned both) and she cooked on a wood burning kitchen stove. And was she a good cook! You Betcha!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 02:37 PM

I grew up in New England and stayed in several places that had the ole woodburner stove. "Before maturity, chop wood and haul water". But the radiant heat coming off that old iron thang was a real joy to nestle up near to. And all the levers and lifters with the corkscrew iron handles were fun, too.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 03:24 PM

Heck, my Great-Aunt Cornelia used one of those every day of her life, clear up to when she died in the early 1970s. So did my maternal grandmother, now that I think of it. Both of them made some mighty fine vittles on it, too. (And yes, they had hot water heaters and central heating. They just preferred to cook on a wood stove.)

For years we didn't have forced air heating; we had "registers" in the floor. Nothing at all like sitting with your cold feet on the register, all wrapped up in a quilt and sipping hot chocolate (from scratch, of course) and eating cookies warm from the oven.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 03:41 PM

Love them old fleur-de-whatchamacallit registers. My biggest shallenge gowing up, in winter anyway, was to make it from a warm bed square onto the middle of the hot-air register in one leap so I could get dressed before I froze stiff. That was before global warming, of course. ANymore it would be a walk in the park.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 03:57 PM

We was up to eight and sixty=five,
A-strainin' up the grade,
And damn if any knew the road,
And them as knew, ain't said.
But we poured it on, and sweated it out,
As the mountains fell behind,
And we headed on toward the top o' thuh world,
On the way to Twenty-Nine.


....


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 05:56 PM

Many was the night I'd take a glass of water up to bed with me and awake in the morning to find a skim if ice on it. Ain't nothin' quite like skooching way down under a couple of quilts and a couple of wool blankets, all snuggled up with yourself, to keep yerself all toasty -- less'n you got somebody with you to share the gettin' warm.

When I was a young and callow stripling of a youth I was fortunate enough not to have to share my bed, 'cause my brothers had enuresis. THEY would awaken with a skim of ice too, but they didn't take a glass of water up to bed with them (at least externally).


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 01 Dec 07 - 11:21 PM

AH yes; cold nights crawling between iron sheets; only frantic skittering with the soles of your feet on the sheets would warm them up to survival temperature. Icicles on the windows at dawn; snow days when the radio would announce liberation; frozen bluejeans and lost mittens, broken galosh buckles...I remember them well. It's all I need to remind me why I am happily ensconced in the Southwest.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 02 Dec 07 - 08:34 AM

Along come 20-8-six-six
And the load was lugging hard;
The engineer was cussing mad,
An' the fireman, he was tahred.
The load was slow, the grade was steep,
And the rods got outta line,
Hauling that train up into the sky,
On the way to Twenty-Nine.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 02 Dec 07 - 12:08 PM

I've lived places where the register on the floor wasn't that big, and upon realizing the room was way-too-chilly, kicking the cat off of the top of it. One small cat could suck up the heat for a whole room, given the opportunity.

It's moist and balmy here, and the leaves that have been falling from trees and the needles accumulating under my 5-year-old Afghan pine (now about 20') smell wonderful. I know this is an abnormally warm day, even for North Texas. I'll go work in the yard and enjoy it, because I'm sure the cold is nipping around the edges of this warm front.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 02 Dec 07 - 07:01 PM

Looks like it's just me here today, MOM. That's okay. I have one of MMario's shawls you can put over your shoulders now that it's getting a little chilly out.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 02 Dec 07 - 07:01 PM

At twenty K, eight-seventy
The snow began to fall
It hid the rails, the trees, the ties
We couldn't see damn all
The conductor stood on the cowcatcher
With a lantern in his hand
To try and light the weary climb,
And the lay of the weary land
He was cold to the bone, and sore and mad,
Staring out, and cussing blind,
As we cut the blizzard toward the sky
On the road to twenty, nine.

Oh it's hard hard steel on a long slow hill,
Through a long hard winter's night
The boilers threatening to freeze
And the lanterns losing light;
And the rods grind slow, as around they go,
Driving one turn at a time,
And the pistons mourn, and the drive-wheel turns,
Through the night toward twenty, nine.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 02 Dec 07 - 07:35 PM

Sorry I'm late. Stepped out my front door into a hole and twisted my ankle. Then I heard screaming in the backyard. I hobbled back there just as fast as I could and there was this huge, spinning hole with blue light hovering above it. Right on the edge of the hole were two sets of fingers, clutching the rim so hard the knuckles were white. I think that was where the screaming came from. Just as I started forward to see if I could lend a hand, the kitchen timer went off, so i had to hobble back into the house to take the apple cakes out of the oven. I had chopped and carried so much wood to get the stove fired up to bake those cakes, why, I couldn't just leave them there to burn. So I yelled "Be right back!" and and headed for the kitchen. Normally I'm pretty quick. Guess I wasn't thinking about how much the sprained ankle might slow me down. Anyway. I made it into the kitchen and pulled those cakes out - Boy, are they pretty and smell good too but they'll taste better after the flavors have blended for a day so you'll just have to wait, guys and gals - and I wanted MOM to see what her daughter had done so I hollered for her to come in the kitchen and lookysee, only she didn't answer and that is when I remembered the scream, the black hole and the white knuckles on the rim and thought, "OHSWEETJAYSUS I done lost Mom down a black hole and the boys 'll never forgive me.   What'll I do, what'll I DO!?" Then the thought occurred to me to google black holes, mebbe there is a way to fix this mess. So in spite of the pain I was in I made my way to my trusty new Mac and the hand of God and google led me to Wikipedia where I commenced to studying up on black holes as fast I could. It was pretty darn interesting, except I couldn't really understand a word, so I started clicking on all the little blue words, hopin' things would get simplier - Got a little distracted by all those links or I'da been here sooner - but anyways, I still didn't understand much of what I was reading. Then I noticed a pretty little picture that said it was a drawing of a worm hole dicovered by some guy that I think is a cousin to that feller who is the governor of California, well, their names were similiar anyway. Understand, by now I am feeling a tad frantic. Fortunately I know alot about worm holes, having been a trekky fan from the very beginning. I just hadn't realized before that they might have a relationship with black holes. When I read that worm holes need exotic matter to stay open so that a human could use them as short cut through the universe, I began to connect two and two.   I mean, it just stands to reason to think that the hole in my backyard was really a worm hole held open by all the exotic matters that get discussed, here, and she was very likely to have landed right back here on the MOAB side of the universe.

MOM? You around?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 02 Dec 07 - 07:51 PM

Stilly? Can I come in? Is that MOM over there in the rocker under Mmario's shawl? Is she OK? Did she tell you what happened? Are you both mad at me?

Look, I brung you both some cake.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 02 Dec 07 - 08:34 PM

Well, Mom, I guess I gotta discuss manly-type stuff here. Stuff like huntin' an' fishin' an' boxin' an' wrasslin' an' wimmen.

Well, my wife can out-shoot, out-hunt, out-fish, and out-fight me.

Okay, so much for the manly-type stuff. Can I have some cake?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 02 Dec 07 - 11:01 PM

BRIDGE:

(Keep them big wheels turning;
Keep that fire burnin'
Shovel and stoke,
No time fer jokes,
Mom's really too discerning.
She'sknows BS when it spins like gold
Or drops flat dead on the line
An's counting on you to bring her through,
'Cross the pass at twenty, nine.
Over the top at twenty, nine.)

Nice one, Janie! Had me hanging on the edge of my keyboard fer a minute there...


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 02 Dec 07 - 11:27 PM

Sure you can have some cake, Rapaire. I made it for all of us.

Onliest thing is, I only brought two pieces with me. You'll have to pop back through the wormhole to get some. Be careful you don't trip over the pecan branches scattered around the backyard, and don't let the old man who lives on the down hill side see you. He's real nice, but he don't shut up once he starts talkin', and besides, will probably call the police if he sees a stranger going through my back door.   Which is unlocked by the way. Just go on in and find the kitchen. You'll see the cakes sitting there on a rack.    Go ahead and bring a whole cake. It won't go to waste, I'm sure. Oh, better wrap it pretty good in cling wrap - on your right, second shelf down - judging from the looks of Mom, that trip through the hole is a bit rough.

Just one more thing, would you jiggle the handle on the commode as you pass by if it is running?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 02 Dec 07 - 11:41 PM

Uh, Rapaire? Maybe you should talk to Mom first. MIght be you and Amos should go together. Or maybe you should take a rapier, or a laser gun, or a big dog or something.

She really looks shook up.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 12:10 AM

And a chimp. Take a chimp. Almost any situation can be improved with the addition of a chimp.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 12:38 AM

MOM's fine--she just got a little chilled out planting irises this afternoon. That was a powerful telling of her dream, Janie--she got a little woozy sitting there in the dirt, digging in the cool soil and pushing iris roots in. It was the wind blowing through that did it, I think. The entire thing was a hallucination--like Pam dreaming all of that stuff about Bobbie Ewing and all the time he was in the shower. . .

That bread smells great! (The chimp doesn't!)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 09:06 AM

Okay. Here's the cake. I'll unload the tommy gun and put it in the corner next to Mom's sawed-off shotgun, the white one she keeps around for "marryin'-up".


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 09:55 AM

Onliest thing is, I only brought two pieces with me.


This is a breathtaking time-slice of language falling back into its greenest and oldest of roots, tempered only by big country heart and the isolation of those beautiful West Virgina hills, I suppose. As a turn of phrase, it seems to me to link straight vback to Chaucerian England. 'Course my ears are a little flappier than once they were, so I could be wrong, I s'pose.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 10:03 AM

Now twenty, eight, and eighty-two!
Hearken, the muffled bell!
As the engine strains and the frozen train
Climbs on, through a snow-cold hell!
They're calling on the passengers
To help relieve the stoker
To shovel in yet one more head
And stir the flames with a poker.
The grade runs steep, the night is deep,
The air is dark and freezing,
And a stone cold ghost lingers with each post,
And the boiler's weak, and wheezing.
The track is white with fallen snow,
And snow-gales make them blind.
But still she climbs, and coughs, and strains,
Climbing on towards twenty, nine.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 02:44 PM

That frozen night on the mountain grade
Woulda made a hard man cry.
When the moon shown through the blizzard storm,
We saw nothing ahead but sky
There was frozen sky falling off to the right
And cold gray sky behind,
And the winds closed in, and we kept up the fight
To make way towards Twenty, nine.

And some of the hands were desperate cold
And could no more compose,
They complained their bones were growing old,
Up high where the dark storm blows.
And we tore the wood from the passenger coach
To keep thuh driver flyin',
And the ancient wheels turned around again --
One more stroke for Twenty, nine.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 03:03 PM

I'm old Rapaire from Idaho's shore
In the good old golden days.
They call me a bum and librarian, too
But what care I for praise?
I wander around Pocatello town
Just like a roving sign,
And the people all say "There goes Rapaire
On the way to ninety-nine.

Cho: In the days of old, in the days of old
How often I repine
For the days of old when we wanted for gold
On the way to ninety-nine.

There was Texas Still, I knew her well,
A woman that was fond of tricks.
At reshelving books she was always there
And heavy in the stacks.
She would ante up and fill her cart
And shelve like the whirlwind kind
But in the PS stacks Stilly lost her breath
On the way to ninety-nine.

There was Sandy Amos, a gold ol' boy
Who was always getting tight.
And every time that he got full
He went a-hunting a fight.
One night he run up against a knife
On the table where he did dine
And over Amos they held a wake
On the way to ninety-nine.

There was poor MMario, the poor old curio
He never would repent.
Her never was known to miss a drink
Or was away his scent.
At length MMario like all the rest
Who never could decline,
In all his bloom was sent to his room
On the way to ninety-nine.

       --Henrica Portia Longview, Stolen Songs and Other Things
         (Portland, OR: Railroading Publishers, 1876), p. 25


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 03:20 PM

And then Little Hawk, with his raucous squawk
That scrawny Indian brave
He would lurk up high, on the top bookshelf
O'er the manuscripts he'd slave
He would search and search for the highest perch
And his arrows bright did shine
Till the day he fell in the old inkwell
On the road to ninety-nine.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 03:57 PM

There was there as well, an imp from hell,
Knows as Sticky-Fingered Rap;
He would lift a line, or a page or a book,
An' he never gave a crap;
But when he tried to lift a stack,
It fell and broke his spine,
Other people' tomes
Cover up his bones,
On the way to Twenty, nine.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 05:40 PM

Wow! We have a truly deathless ballad in hand here. I wonder if Bob Dylan could be persuaded to do a cover version of it when it's done?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 05:56 PM

I am slightly miffed, sir Hack, that you wax enthusiastic about Rapaire's shoddy substitutions built on an old Frank Warner (inter alia) song, and have nothing to say about the deathless lyrics I have been building based soely on my low-level creative fires, without benefit of a stolen architecture, aside from general parameters.

'S up id dat, man?

Ah, hell, skip it. Prophets are unknown in their own land, and all that.

Pfui.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 05:57 PM

And THAT curmudgeonly carping was none other than the greatest number: 20888!



A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 06:32 PM

Well, actually I thought your stuff was really great, Amos. It just wasn't as familiar, that's all.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 06:53 PM

Hey, MOM! The house painters finished today! Now I have to paint the iron bars over the windows (they're actually aluminum, but don't say anything or the aluminum thieves might break up my house just for the metal!) I have a chapped face from out walking around and looking and inspecting and such today. Chap Stick to the rescue.

And now my radio is playing Golliwog's Cakewalk. My day is perfect!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Donuel
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 07:04 PM

CHIMPS WIN!
CHIMPS WIN!
CHIMPS WIN!
CHIMPS WIN!
CHIMPS WIN!
CHIMPS WIN!
CHIMPS WIN!

5 year old chimps were pitted against adult humans at games of concentration (matching numbers, letters and pictures ehen chosen 2 at a time) played on a touch screencomputer and CHIMPS WIN!

Humans came in a very close second when the clues were displayed for several seconds but Chimps ran away with it when clue boxes were displayed for only a tenth of a second.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 07:43 PM

YEah, but who designed the touch screen?


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 08:17 PM

We had only twelve more posts to go,
But we didn't know it then,
We were blind as bats in that howling snow,
So it could have been twenty, or ten.
Then across the bridge, just below the ridge
Over death's own gulch we lined
There was nothing there but frozen air
As we crossed toward Twenty, nine

And the shake of the cold and the enjine old,
Made us fear for our very souls
There was nothing to do but stare down the gulf,
And pray for the wheels to roll,
Then the air was filled with a blown out ring,
From the number one piston ring cryin';
So we vented her free and on jes' two and three,
Headed on toward Twenty, nine


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 08:36 PM

Just think...if Shane could only write poetry...what gems he would contribute to this thread.

Just think.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Blind DRunk in Blind River
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 08:47 PM

I flippin' heard a, like, litte bird call my name...

I can too right potery. I can, eh? Any flippin' time I want to.

I jsut don;t flippin' want to right now becoz poetery is for loosers and wimps, eh?

So flip off!

- Shane


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 09:40 PM

And then? And then?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 09:42 PM

The suspense, Amos!

Oh the suspense....


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 10:18 PM

No one would be crass enough to go for that final post just for the personal glory. I predict that this thread will never get past that hurdle, and this will be the last post on it.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 10:19 PM

Then up to the cab came a country gal
An' her name was Little Jane
And her words were soft as lilac fur,
But her eyes were gems and flame;
And she pushed the fireman to one side,
And stepped up to the hole
And she started in a filling that fire
With two hundred pounds of caol.
Then to her side stepped a man called Shane
With a greasy ducktail do;
An' he said, I'll grab a shovel here,
If you'll pay me with a brew.
And the boiler peaked, and the old rods creaked,
An' we crawled ahead, full blind.
Jes' pulling our best, as we turned to the crest,
And the light of Twenty, nine.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 10:20 PM

I was mistaken. There is someone that crass. (And it wasn't William Shatner!)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 10:23 PM

Har! Har! LOL! By God, Amos, you couldn't have timed it more perfectly if you'd been paid to. Way to go, man...you have outcrassed the Shatman!!! Hang your head forever in shame. ;-D You are the turkey who snagged the 20,900th post. Oh, the perfidy of it all!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 10:25 PM

And over the ridge and into the light,
As the sun lifted into the sky,
Why, we had it made, as we topped the grade,
And down that hill did fly.
And some there are who scoffed and smiled,
And said we couldn't do it;
But the MOAB crew is of tougher stuff,
Then they seem, when they get up to it.
And those who scoffed, and those who sneered
When we broke into bright sunshine,
Wal they found they had somp'n else to do,
As we steamed past Twenty, nine, boys,
We flew past Twenty, nine.

Amadeus O'Stern Erstov
When the Wind Whistles Dixie
Wheeling, 1963


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 03 Dec 07 - 10:41 PM

Bravo!


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