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BS: The Mother of all BS threads

Rapparee 18 Oct 10 - 09:22 PM
gnu 18 Oct 10 - 07:33 PM
Amos 18 Oct 10 - 07:21 PM
Rapparee 18 Oct 10 - 06:19 PM
Eiseley 18 Oct 10 - 05:28 PM
Rapparee 18 Oct 10 - 05:13 PM
Acme 18 Oct 10 - 05:11 PM
Acme 18 Oct 10 - 05:10 PM
Rapparee 18 Oct 10 - 04:11 PM
Rapparee 18 Oct 10 - 02:01 PM
Amos 18 Oct 10 - 01:54 PM
Rapparee 18 Oct 10 - 01:50 PM
Rapparee 18 Oct 10 - 01:47 PM
Little Hawk 18 Oct 10 - 01:00 PM
Amos 18 Oct 10 - 12:23 PM
Rapparee 18 Oct 10 - 10:53 AM
Eiseley 18 Oct 10 - 10:51 AM
Amos 18 Oct 10 - 10:47 AM
Rapparee 18 Oct 10 - 10:38 AM
Amos 18 Oct 10 - 10:23 AM
Acme 18 Oct 10 - 01:36 AM
Eiseley 17 Oct 10 - 03:25 PM
Eiseley 17 Oct 10 - 03:20 PM
Rapparee 17 Oct 10 - 12:33 PM
Amos 17 Oct 10 - 11:32 AM
Acme 17 Oct 10 - 02:59 AM
Amos 17 Oct 10 - 12:07 AM
Acme 16 Oct 10 - 08:21 PM
Amos 16 Oct 10 - 01:15 PM
Rapparee 16 Oct 10 - 12:14 PM
Acme 16 Oct 10 - 11:30 AM
Little Hawk 16 Oct 10 - 10:35 AM
Amos 16 Oct 10 - 09:09 AM
Eiseley 15 Oct 10 - 11:32 PM
Rapparee 15 Oct 10 - 07:16 PM
Rapparee 15 Oct 10 - 05:10 PM
gnu 15 Oct 10 - 04:56 PM
Little Hawk 15 Oct 10 - 04:17 PM
Rapparee 15 Oct 10 - 02:49 PM
Eiseley 15 Oct 10 - 02:35 PM
Rapparee 15 Oct 10 - 01:23 PM
GUEST,Blind DRunk in Blind River 15 Oct 10 - 01:08 PM
Amos 15 Oct 10 - 12:56 PM
Acme 15 Oct 10 - 12:51 PM
Rapparee 15 Oct 10 - 12:14 PM
GUEST,Blind DRunk in Blind River 15 Oct 10 - 12:00 PM
Little Hawk 15 Oct 10 - 11:56 AM
Amos 15 Oct 10 - 11:35 AM
Little Hawk 15 Oct 10 - 11:34 AM
MMario 15 Oct 10 - 11:31 AM
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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 09:22 PM

We-uns kin have one a them Texas barby-cues. Where ya dig a big ol' hole in the ground and build a big ol' fahr and then cook a whole cow long with a big ol' potta beans. Wash 'er all down with Lone Star, too.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: gnu
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 07:33 PM

"up to code"?

I would offer my services as a building inspector but you wouldn't want that as I am an honest man.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 07:21 PM

Here's doowop accompaniment for the dancin'.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 06:19 PM

Drinks for the house!!! Tear down the walls!!! Kick out the jams!!!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Eiseley
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 05:28 PM

Oh, wouldn't that be fun!! Something to look forward to, definitely. Thank you, Ma'am!

Eiseley


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 05:13 PM

There's a ordinance on roof removal?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 05:11 PM

All I ask of Amos' redecorating is that they be visible, paid for, and up to code. . .


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 05:10 PM

I think it's a splendid idea if Eiseley comes down here to celebrate graduation, initiation, inundation, whatever the school and organization can manage. And there is room for other MOABites. When I run out of beds I have a cot, pallets, sleeping bags, couches, etc.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 04:11 PM

We all chew tobacco in Muskogee;
We all ride the rods on the old Katy
We don't like them scabs out on Main Street;
We like livin' right, and bein' free.

CHORUS: I'm proud to be an folky from Muskogee,
A place where banjo players have a ball
We still sing "Union Maid" down at the taverns,
And rememberin' the words is the biggest thrill of all.

We don't make a party out of lovin';
'Cuz we ain't had a bath since around ought two;
We all let our hair grow long and shaggy,
Like all the old-time Wobblies used to do.

(CHORUS)

Steel-toed boots are still in style for manly footwear;
You never know who you might have to stomp.
And a feller will still let you use his capo,
As long as you don't toss it in the dump.

We still play the banjo in the evenings,
In Muskogee, Oklahoma, USA.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 02:01 PM

To be distinguished from the distinguished veterinary science organization, Bitta Fly Moo.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 01:54 PM

I dunno about that "Aliis inserviendo consumor " bit. I'm all for service but I would prefer to see Eiseley remain.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 01:50 PM

With all due restraint, I should note that I did not announce my capture of 37973, a palindrome. Spun it becomes Ɛㄥ6ㄥƐ, which is an indelicate word in Ancient Corinthian Attic Plattgreek.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 01:47 PM

Having let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, there is only one possible group Eiseley could join. No, it's not I Phelta Thi or Tappa Kegga Beer, it's the UNT chapter of ΒΦΜ.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 01:00 PM

"Tell! Tell! Tell! Ark!"

(Damn crows!)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 12:23 PM

Cheers and brava, thou scholarly wench!! Good on ya.

I am all for a party at Stilly's. We could rework her house for her. There's a precedent...


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 10:53 AM

I think that when she graduates next May we should all go the Stilly's place and help her celebrate (Eiseley, not Stilly). What a great idea for a party, assuming the cops cooperate. Bee-Dubya could bring the pot, too. Why, we could invite George and Laura!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Eiseley
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 10:51 AM

An ancient, (by his own admission: see the preceding post) curmudgeon of my acquaintance urged me to join the fellowship of a Greek society to which I have been invited. I can't remember exactly what the letters are, but it may have been I Eta Pi. As soon as my new checks arrive by mail, I shall write out the edict to pay my initiation fee to this society and thereby join. I had better do it quickly in case this semester's grades prove less than what they have been previously.

Eiseley


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 10:47 AM

Just now, it is raining and chilly here, and it feels more like an October group.

But I would like to know about Eiseley's invitation.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 10:38 AM

You sound like the crow outside on the golf course: "TELL! TELL! TELL! AWkk...what does 'Fore' mean again?"

I was invited to join a special august body once, only it WAS August and too hot and sweaty for much joining of anything. That was back before air conditioning, during the last Great Planetary Warm-Up. I pret near got eaten by a Utahraptor, even right there in Illinois. I think the poor critter was lost. Anyway, we all came out okay and we even put the Uraptor on a train back to Salt Lake City. Town was smaller then, what with being at the bottom of Lake Bonneville and all.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 10:23 AM

Tell! Tell!


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Oct 10 - 01:36 AM

Reading it helps - this one takes several passes through and a lot of thought. It's beautiful. Thanks, Eiseley.

A little bird told me you're invited to join an august group. One that doesn't go anywhere near the Legion Hall.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Eiseley
Date: 17 Oct 10 - 03:25 PM

Another version. Both seem to fit the death of a friend, I think. I know of nothing harder to bear. It's what brought me to MOM in the first place.

Eiseley

Hallelujah


I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well, it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well, baby, I've been here before.
I've seen this room, and I've walked this floor.
I used to live alone before I knew you.
But I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
And love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and it is a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well, there was a time when you'd let me know
What's really going on below,
But now you never show that to me, do you?
But remember when I moved in you,
And the Holy Ghost was moving too,
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well, maybe there is a God above,
But all that I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.
It's not a cry that you hear at night,
And it is not somebody who has seen the light
It's a cold and it is a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Eiseley
Date: 17 Oct 10 - 03:20 PM

Hallelujah

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Leonard Cohen


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 17 Oct 10 - 12:33 PM

Most of the Legionnaires and Legionnettes are into oceans, but of beer and things. However, many also actually care about water (as a mixer if nothing else). I'll ask for a moment of silent remembrance and then a rousing toast to his memory. He sounds like he would have fit right in.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 17 Oct 10 - 11:32 AM

Wow.

KD always surprises me.


Thanks, Maggie!


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 17 Oct 10 - 02:59 AM

At the end of a murder mystery repeat this evening, one I don't watch often but an episode I'd seen before, they played k.d. lang's version of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. That's a great somber and beautiful song that I'll have to read the words to, as a poem, to get the full meaning as I listen to it next time. In this performance, Cohen was in the audience.

Don't know if the meaning of this is applicable to the loss of a friend, but it just sounds right on a visceral level.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 17 Oct 10 - 12:07 AM

Thanks all of you. Tell the guys at the Hovel. In case any of them were into ocans like....


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 16 Oct 10 - 08:21 PM

Nice!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 16 Oct 10 - 01:15 PM

Peter Niiler was a physical oceanographer who became world renowned for his many years' programme of developing and deploying a world-wide population of drifter bouys. He was, consequently, a world-class authority on ocean currents and contributed significant original and valuable knowledge to the field.

A short article about him.

He was Estonian by birth. The night before he died suddenly and unexpectedly, he was dancing and singing at home. Opera. In Estonian. Waving a large leaf from one of the many tropical trees in his courtyard. No, really! He was unique among men, a wag and a brilliant thinker. He was much loved.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 16 Oct 10 - 12:14 PM

Well Amos, now he knows the secrets of the briny deep. And I'm not being facetious. I'm certain this has left a large gap in the lives of many people.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 16 Oct 10 - 11:30 AM

Was he Ed Rickets to your John Steinbeck? I'm sorry to hear about your friend.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 16 Oct 10 - 10:35 AM

Sorry to hear that, Amos.

Well, he may be investigating far greater oceans now.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 16 Oct 10 - 09:09 AM

I am sorry to tell you, Mom, that the oceanographer (a dear friend here) passed away yesterday morning.

HE is much mourned.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Eiseley
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 11:32 PM

That is one of Tom's favorites, especially the part about the hot dog at the very end. I'm going to make him some liver tomorrow. Heh-heh

Eiseley


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 07:16 PM

Blood.

         Blood was everywhere, it seemed. Mostly it was inside of us, which was fortunate or things would have been awfully messy, like it was when someone got cut and blood would leak out. Then you had to plug up the leak with a band-aid or a cork or something, because if someone lost too much blood they could die or worse.

        Blood, we learned in school, was the thing that carried oxygen and stuff to your body. Well, we really learned that something called hemoglobin worked with iron to attach oxygen to the iron and the iron was carried in the arteries all over the body, and the oxygen was released wherever it was needed. Then the blood came back through the veins to pick up another load of oxygen.

        "Blood," Tony observed, "is just liquid rust."

        Blood was the key, though, to Tony's plan to win the Great Stillman's Run Road Race. Tony had done a lot of research at the library, even reading a couple of books completely through, and they didn't even have many pictures and did have little tiny type. So after he understood about blood carrying oxygen, he figured that the more oxygen that could be carried by the blood the better someone could run. And the better they could run, the better the chance that they would win the race.

        Blood, he decided, was key and the blood he chose was mine. I was amazed and awed and awfully outraged when he told me.

        "Blood!? You want to pump someone's blood into me so I can run faster?" I asked him, unbelievingly.

        "Blood is key to winning," he replied. "But we don't have to pump someone else's blood into you, although I did consider using a greyhound's blood, because they can run awfully fast. But I decided that it wouldn't be necessary, that all we had to do was to improve the amount of oxygen your own blood carried. Besides, I don't know where to get a greyhound."

        "Bloody good of you," I muttered.

        "Blood is made up of hemoglobin and iron," Tony started.

        "Blood is made up of that and a lot of other things," I replied.

        "Blood," he continued unperturbed, "uses iron to carry the oxygen. So if we increase the amount of iron in your blood, you'll carry more oxygen. The more oxygen, the faster you'll run. The faster you run, the sooner you'll cross the finish line and win the prize and make us filthy rich, or at least pretty wealthy."

        "Why, pray tell, me?" I asked.

        "Because as the oldest you are the tallest and therefore have the longest legs," he replied. "Even though I, or even Ted, can outrun you now, you'll be able to really fly along when you've had enough iron and the oxygen is really flowing in your veins."

        "So how do I get this iron? Eat a car or something?"

        "No. Ted checked on that, and all you have to do is to eat liver and broccoli and kale and spinach and stuff like that."

        "Oh," I replied, underwhelmed with the whole idea. Little Did I Know Then!

        So I ate foods with iron in them. Spinach. Kale. Broccoli. Kale. Spinach. And lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of liver.

        Tony kept trying to stick pins in me to see if my blood was red enough. He said that if there was plenty of iron in my blood it would be really, really, really red, especially if it came from an artery. Luckily, I was able to prevent him from doing this, but I had to watch him all the time!

        Even in church. One Sunday he managed to stick a pin in me as I was sitting down in the pew. After I yelled he was embarrassed to have done it, what with all of the dogs that started to howl and all. And since we were sitting pretty far up front he couldn't pass it off as the organ, either.

        Training commenced. Naturally we wanted to keep it secret so that nobody would know about how fast I was going to able to run – and most importantly, why I was going to be able to go so fast. So we trained in the Swamp.

        Ted and Tony laid out a track for me to run on, clearing away most of the thorn bushes, nettles, cockle burrs, poison ivy, poison oak, poison sumac, deadly nightshade, jimson weed and pansies for what they said was a kilometer, at least. I paced it off and told them that it was only maybe a hundred feet long, but they said that they had measured in meters and that I had measured in feet and since meters were more scientific they were right. Besides, at the end of the track was a great big boulder that not even all three of us could move. They said that it was good that we couldn't move it, because if I got going really fast it would stop me before I could run into the quicksand pool behind it.

        Being good brothers, they even filled in most of the rattlesnake, water mocassin, copperhead, and coral snake holes along the track.

        And so I ran and ate and ate and ran. Tony found a stopwatch somewhere and timed me. He kept detailed records of my time, and found that sometimes I ran faster than at other times. He decided that the better times were caused by my intake of iron-bearing foods, and pretty soon I was even eating spinach for breakfast!

        Actually, I was getting pretty sick of a diet of liver, spinach, kale and broccoli. One day I had a small ice cream cone and Tony got really mad, even though I paid for it with my own money. That evening I found some hard stuff in my dinner, which turned out to be pieces of rusty nails and wire. Tony explained that he'd put it there to make up for the damage I'd done with the ice cream cone.

        All too soon, according to Tony and Ted, and none too soon according to me, it was the weekend before the great race.   We went out to the Swamp for one last weekend of intensive practice, and Martha came along so that we could show her how well we were doing. She'd put up all of the money we'd bet on the race, and she wanted to see the "sure thing" we told her was going to win.

        We ate lunch – they ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but I had to eat cold, leftover liver and a spinach salad.

        It must have been this last little bit of iron food that finally did it.

        Lunch was over. I got into the starting position at the beginning of the track.

        "BANG!!" shouted Ted, his water pistol pointed to the sky.

        I took off like a rocket. Everything looked blurred, I was going so fast. Faster, faster, faster – and then everything looked gray! I decided that I had finally gone so fast that all of the colors of light had been left behind!

        I was going so fast that it didn't even feel like I was moving. I wasn't going so fast, though, that pain was outstripped.

        And there was pain! All along the front of my body. And the gray color of light seemed to be sort of wrinkled and hard.

        Voices reached me. Martha, Tony, and Ted's voices.

        "Gee, he's right up against that rock," someone said.

        "Yeah. I wonder why he doesn't move away from it," someone else said.

        "Maybe he's hurt?"

        "Maybe he's dead?"

        "Maybe he's stupid?"

        "Sure is neat the way he keeps his feet off the ground like that, though. Wonder why he doesn't fall?"

        Off the ground? I too wondered why, if that was the case, I didn't fall.

        "What time is it?"

        "What does your watch say? And don't say, 'Tick tock tick tock, either!"

        "I dunno. The hands are moving funny."

        "Look at that piece of wire!"

        "Neat! It's sticking to the rock like Mike is!"

        "Hey, I bet that rock's a big magnet! Or at least part of it is! That's why the wire stuck to it!"

        "Cool! Look out while I toss this old car gear at it!" And something big and heavy flew above my head and stuck to the rock.

        "How come Mike sticks to the rock? He's not metal."

        "His head must be solid steel!"

        "Maybe. Hey! Mike! Are you okay?" Tony yelled.

        "Mm mstck t mrk," I replied. It was hard to talk with my mouth held firmly against the rock.

        "Huh?" said Ted, puzzlement in his voice.

        "I think he said 'I'm stuck to the rock'," said Martha.

        "Hey, Mike!" said Tony. "If you're stuck to the rock, paw the ground once." And he laughed and Ted and Martha laughed too.

        After a few minutes, they stopped laughing. They grabbed me and tried to pull me off the rock. They grunted and groaned and made horrible working sounds, but I just stuck there. Finally, I could feel them pulling on my belt, which was elastic and which must have stretched and stretched and then broke, as the next thing was the sound of three people sitting down very suddenly.

        For a few minutes there was quiet, and I knew that they were thinking. So was I, for that matter. I was thinking about what I was going to do to Tony and Ted if I ever got unstuck from the rock.

        Suddenly, I heard Ted and Tony jump up. I could tell it was them because I heard the hollow sounds of their heads hitting a tree branch.

        "It's the iron in his blood!" shouted Tony.

        "The rock's a big magnet!" shouted Ted.

        "Let's pry him off!" they shouted together. And lickety-split, they were poking at me with a long pole, trying to jam it under me to pry me loose.

        They did get it under me a bit, but when they pulled on it it broke, and from the corner of my eye I could see them sit down suddenly again.

        There they sat, Martha, Tony and Ted, eyeing each other, knowing that they had to get me loose from the rock because Mom might notice if four of us left and only three returned home. At the very least she'd notice that I wasn't at supper.

        Finally, Ted said, "We've got to demagnetize the rock. It's holding him too strongly to do anything else."

        "What will do that?" questioned Tony.

        "Well," said Ted, "I read that if you wrap a big coil of copper wire around a magnet and run an electric current through it you can demagnetize the magnet."

        "Nah," replied Tony. "We don't have any copper wire. And no electricity here. That won't work."

        I was relieved, because knowing them as I did I would probably have been electrocuted.

        They thought some more.

        "I know!" said Tony. "I read that a magnet will demagnetize if you get it real hot!"

        "Great idea!" agreed Ted. And I could hear them gathering sticks and feel them tossing them around my feet.

        "Mike!" Ted shouted, even though I was only a couple of feet away. "We're going to build a big fire and that will demagnetize the rock and free you! It'll only take a few minutes!"

        "NO!" I managed to scream. "DON'T!"

        "Ah, guys," Martha interjected, "you know, you might not only demagnetize the rock. You might burn Mike up doing it, you know."

        "Oh, yeah. We never thought of that," Ted and Tony said together.

        "So, then, I guess we'll just have to leave him hanging there, huh?" questioned Ted.

        "Guess so," Tony agreed. "Well, so long, Mike! We're going on home! Hang in there!" And he laughed.

        "Oh, wait a minute," Martha said, disgustedly. "Try hammering on the rock and see if that will demagnetize it. After all, hammering on a piece of iron in a certain way will make it a magnet, so hammering on it sort of at random should unmagnet it."

        The next second they had all picked up rocks and were pounding enthusiastically on the big rock that was holding me.

        They pounded and pounded. Bits of rock were flying everywhere. When they'd pounded one rock into little pieces they picked up another and kept pounding.

        Martha pounded the base of the rock and up as high as she could reach. Ted stood on Tony's shoulders and they both pounded as high as they could reach that way.

        They pounded the bottom, middle, and top of the rock. They pounded their hands sometimes. Lots of times they pounded me.

        Nothing much happened to free me, though.

        Finally, they all stopped pounding and moved back a little to assess the situation (which means that they were out of breath and wanted to take a break). Tony picked up a pebble and, in frustration, threw it as hard as he could at the big rock.

        The pebble hit near the top. I could feel something happening inside the rock. Then, with a loud CRACK! it fell into many little stones.

        With a muffled THUD! I fell to the ground. With a fairly loud CLANG! the gear that had been stuck above my head hit it, bounced, and rolled away.

        "Ow!" I said. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" You see, the little rocks were still magnets and they were now throwing themselves at me – and sticking.

        Quickly I moved away, and after I got about fifty yards from them the barrage stopped.

        As we walked home, I picked off little rocks and flipped them away. As we walked home Tony enthused about his new plan to win the race: put a giant magnet at the finish line and I wouldn't have to run at all!

        I quietly and firmly suggested to him that if anyone was going to be in the race, it wasn't going to be me. Even if my legs were the longest. Besides, I was very sick of kale, liver, broccoli, and spinach – even Mom could only cook them so many ways!

        We got home just in time to wash up for supper – which was spinach, kale, broccoli, and liver. Except for me – Mom had very thoughtfully made me a hot dog.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 05:10 PM

Sheer guts and determination and perseverance, that's all it takes even with a total lack of talent. Of course, she could also afford to underwrite her own concerts. That helps too.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: gnu
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 04:56 PM

Sure is for me.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 04:17 PM

That's an amazing story, Eisley. She appears to have been the William MacGonagall of opera. It's amazing where sheer self-belief and determination can take people of little talent, and that could be a lesson for all of us. ;-)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 02:49 PM

According to The Grande Archives, she had a three-day engagement at The Hovel back in June, 19-something (the ink is beer-blurred). She was apparently very much appreciated, as the rat and cockroach populations became non-existent for years thereafter, which saved the floorboards from more bullet holes.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Eiseley
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 02:35 PM

No way, Stilly! My brother has a CD of Florence Foster Jenkins that he forced us to listen to last Thanksgiving---until we all jumped on him and made him turn it off. Here is more about this paragon of tunelessness.

Eiseley


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 01:23 PM

Nope, Shame, they've got you. Remember the "accident" you had with that sledge hammer? That's why you're a soprano, young "man".


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Blind DRunk in Blind River
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 01:08 PM

One thing fer sure...she don't need no flippin' vibrator to hit the high notes, eh? Flip me. Un beeeleeeevable! We do not have no women like this in North Ontario. Leastwayes, I don't think so.

- Shane


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 12:56 PM

Oh....oh...dear...I don't know if I can handle this woman...she makes me feel faint...oh...dear....gakkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!! (Furball sounds continue while Amos exists stage right).


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 12:51 PM

MOM is so excited! Look who's on the playbill for the Saturday concert down at the Womens' Hovel Annex annual fall concert series. Her old friend Flo.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 12:14 PM

Peeking through the window again, eh, Shame? Everyone knows that no business in town will let you in its doors. I understand that you're even banned from the sewage treatment plant because of your stink.

The Legion Hovel is not a violent place nor is violence implied. There have been a few mistakes, like the recent explosion of the beer car by the cops, but it has been ten or twelve days since the last fight and that was just a slap-face thing between Ancient Amos (not our Amos) and Surly Bob. Each slapped the other at the same time, not hard, and then0 they passed out together on the floor. It was a lovely sight, like two kittens snuggling together, as long as the kittens were wearing lead-weighted gloves. And the bullet holes are reliques from years and years ago, back when the place was REALLY part of The Wild West. So if you ever were to visit, don't mind the machine guns and pistols -- they wear them now only for show.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Blind DRunk in Blind River
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 12:00 PM

I pity youse peple talkin' about a fippin' goddam monkey all the time when you cold be talkin' about wet T-shirt girls or beer.

I seen this girl at the Iron Horse last night and she could of cut glass with them things. No word of a lie, eh?

- Shane


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 11:56 AM

Or the Hovel would end up as a smoking, bullet-riddled ruin with bodies strewn hither and yon, and Chongo would have to file a full report with the local constabulary and then pick up his reward for rendering a valuable public service. ;-)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 11:35 AM

If he started a re-education campaign in the Hovel, I think he would end up mounted on the wall, or perhaps serving as a rug.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 11:34 AM

No. One cannot be specist without prejudice. One can, however, be prejudiced without specism. Prejudice against jazz, for instance, is not specism.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 15 Oct 10 - 11:31 AM

Can one be specist without prejudices? Doesn;t the former imply the latter?


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