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BS: The Mother of all BS threads

gnu 22 Feb 12 - 02:32 PM
Bee-dubya-ell 22 Feb 12 - 02:22 PM
Rapparee 22 Feb 12 - 02:16 PM
gnu 22 Feb 12 - 01:01 PM
Amos 22 Feb 12 - 12:58 PM
Little Hawk 22 Feb 12 - 10:44 AM
Little Hawk 22 Feb 12 - 10:29 AM
Amos 22 Feb 12 - 10:08 AM
Rapparee 22 Feb 12 - 09:24 AM
Rapparee 22 Feb 12 - 01:17 AM
Little Hawk 22 Feb 12 - 12:26 AM
Rapparee 21 Feb 12 - 09:57 PM
gnu 21 Feb 12 - 07:29 PM
Rapparee 21 Feb 12 - 09:10 AM
Little Hawk 21 Feb 12 - 12:17 AM
Little Hawk 21 Feb 12 - 12:04 AM
Acme 20 Feb 12 - 11:59 PM
Little Hawk 20 Feb 12 - 11:32 PM
GUEST,Don McBride 20 Feb 12 - 11:28 PM
Rapparee 20 Feb 12 - 09:32 PM
Amos 20 Feb 12 - 08:06 PM
Amos 20 Feb 12 - 04:48 PM
gnu 20 Feb 12 - 04:37 PM
Rapparee 20 Feb 12 - 04:03 PM
gnu 20 Feb 12 - 01:42 PM
gnu 20 Feb 12 - 12:56 PM
Little Hawk 20 Feb 12 - 12:43 PM
Amos 19 Feb 12 - 10:28 PM
Rapparee 19 Feb 12 - 10:12 PM
Amos 19 Feb 12 - 08:59 PM
gnu 19 Feb 12 - 03:25 PM
Rapparee 19 Feb 12 - 02:21 PM
Little Hawk 19 Feb 12 - 04:17 AM
Amos 18 Feb 12 - 11:40 PM
Little Hawk 18 Feb 12 - 10:40 PM
GUEST,Chongo Chimp 18 Feb 12 - 10:33 PM
Rapparee 18 Feb 12 - 10:19 PM
GUEST,Chongo Chimp 18 Feb 12 - 10:00 PM
Rapparee 18 Feb 12 - 09:24 PM
GUEST,Chongo Chimp 18 Feb 12 - 08:25 PM
Amos 18 Feb 12 - 06:46 PM
Rapparee 18 Feb 12 - 04:01 PM
Little Hawk 18 Feb 12 - 12:12 PM
Rapparee 18 Feb 12 - 11:53 AM
Acme 18 Feb 12 - 10:44 AM
Little Hawk 18 Feb 12 - 10:25 AM
Amos 18 Feb 12 - 08:46 AM
Rapparee 17 Feb 12 - 10:27 PM
Rapparee 17 Feb 12 - 07:49 PM
Little Hawk 17 Feb 12 - 05:20 PM
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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: gnu
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 02:32 PM

Which corners? Surely you wouldn't bite your apex? I think this survey deserves it's own thread.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 02:22 PM

Hi, Mom!

I'm taking a poll.

Here it is:

If you're eating a sandwich that has been cut in half diagonally, do you bite the corners off first, or take a bite out of the hypotenuse?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 02:16 PM

Cowboy poetry. Elkins, NV, January every year.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: gnu
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 01:01 PM

Good stuff, LH.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 12:58 PM

Hell, Hawk, that would make a first-rate country song, especially if'n you could find a lesbian C&W singer to record it. Damn, it is too bad Alison K isn't gay--she'd be perfect for it.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 10:44 AM

Well, here's another new song from a couple of weeks ago. I really like it...and it IS my genuine prayer, that's for sure. I decided to give it a wacky Dylanesque title instead of the obvious one... ;-)

George Coventry's 118th Prayer                                        

Lord, give me a woman
who is honest, brave, and kind
Who will meet me on the level
And won't mess up my mind
Who respects the works of nature
And walks lightly on this world
Lord, give me a woman
Not a little girl

Lord, give me a woman
Who will take me as I am
And not try to reshape me
Into some imagined man
Who will take my hand as partner
As a lover and a friend
Who will stand equal beside me
When the tides of fortune bend

Lord, give me a woman
Who's complete within herself
Whose happiness does not depend
Upon somebody else
But rises freely as a spring
That flows out of her heart
And falls like healing rain
On every soul who shares her part

Lord, give me this woman
And to her I will be true
And give her back the same in kind
As I would do for you
But this is no demand
This is my prayer and my request
Lord, give me this woman
And I swear I'll do my best

Copyright   ©   2012   George Coventry


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 10:29 AM

I have had many a grand post meet the same tragic end, Amos. Vanished in an instant! Never to see the light of day nor receive the well-deserved praises of my many fans. OH! The agony of it all! It's enough to drive a man to drink.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 10:08 AM

I am really peeved about the Fight Poem which I had a complete resolution for in which Stilly saves the day with a bucket of beer, but the effing server-lag ate it up and I hadn't saved it. Immortal lines, smashed into oblivion on the heaving bosom ofg indifferent cyberspace!! Woe!!

Anyway when I have a moment perhaps I will try to reconstruct same. It would not be right to leave the tension unresolved.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 09:24 AM

Good morning, mater. I hope that you are well this morning. Amos has fixed Chongo for you for breakfast: Chump Chimp Souffle, fresh biscuits, and fresh fruit.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 01:17 AM

I think they should deal with him like the Brits did to those Irishers: shove a hose and a funnel down his throat and pour in soup. Or they could do it a more modern way, one that Shame now would probably like more: insert the soup from the bottom up, so to speak.

Or they could just put a bag of moldy Tim's donuts within his reach -- the kind usually found the day before the dumpster is emptied.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 22 Feb 12 - 12:26 AM

Word on the street is that Shane, in prison in Sudbury, has gone on a hunger strike!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 21 Feb 12 - 09:57 PM

Wasn't Beauregard the bloodhound that tracked Shame down when he broke jail the last time? They found Shame curled up in a fetal position whimpering "Don't let him at me!" as ol' Beau tried to lick Shame to death.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: gnu
Date: 21 Feb 12 - 07:29 PM

Beauregard and Shane.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 21 Feb 12 - 09:10 AM

I've learned lotsa pomes in my time:

Under the spreading chestnut tree
Were rusty cans and such debris.

and

The boy stood on the burning deck
Eating peanuts by the peck.

and

The shades of night were falling fast
And peeping toms were foiled at last.

and

Tell me not in mournful numbers
The price you paid for two cucumbers.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 21 Feb 12 - 12:17 AM

Thanks, Stilly. ;-) Yes, we all fear the day when Beauregard busts out!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 21 Feb 12 - 12:04 AM

Then Chongo smiled with the smile of an ape
Who's heard many a hollow boast
From many a man who thought he could tan
The hide of the ape from the coast
From the coast of Mid-West Africa
Where the mangos fall heavy and thick
And danger waits for the man who baits
A trenchcoat-clad primate dick

"You musta not heard," said Chongo Chimp,
"What happened to Gentleman Jim
When he drew on the ape from Ohio State
And he figgered that he could win.
He's six feet under now, y' know?
He's pushin' up daisies real fine
With a .45 five cal lodged in his brain
And the gun it came from was mine."

"If you wanna stay healthy
Don't try to get wealthy
By pickin' a fight with me
Or I'll pound yer head
So far down yer neck
You'll hafta stop talkin' to pee!"
And with that reply, Chongo pulled back his coat
In a manner both suave and grand
To reveal a tommy gun, cold steel blue
At the ready in his right hand.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 11:59 PM

Time to get serious here, and it demands a woman's touch


The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.

The flames rolled on–he would not go
Without his Father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud–'say, Father, say
If yet my task is done?'
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

'Speak, father!' once again he cried,
'If I may yet be gone!'
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death
In still yet brave despair.

And shouted but once more aloud,
'My father! must I stay?'
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder sound–
   The boy–oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!–

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part–
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart.

Casabianca ---Felicia Dorothea Hemans
New Monthly Magazine and Literary Journal
1826 (Edward Bulwer, editor)

I liked your songs, LH, and I live in fear of the day that budgie breaks out.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 11:32 PM

Rap, I think Amos's idea was that I transformed myself INTO Chongo Chimp. There's a strong precedent for that, you know. Get with the script, Bookman! It is now Chongo versus Gnu, and I am no longer in the scene. I might add that Chongo has never lost a fistfight...though he has experienced one or two draws. I think he had a draw with Fat Freddy once before poor Freddy bought the farm.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Don McBride
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 11:28 PM

Holy FLIP, man! This is a flippin' epic!

- Don

p.s. The little bruther's still in solidary, eh?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 09:32 PM

Then the Manne of Bookes reached across his belt
And out a big Colt's hogleg drew
The cylinder holdin' six lead pills
A cure for what's ailin' you.

Then he said to the chimp, whether smoke or real
"You ain't innerruptin' this fight!
Ol' Gnuer's been chompin' at the LH bit
An' we're gonna see who's right.

I don't care for yer pork-pie hat
Or yer blank-an'-white saddle shoes
Cuz you look like a pimp from Prescott line
So back off, or sing the blues!"


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 08:06 PM

We wuz eighty-four from the next of Kay
On a dark and wintry night
And the bar was rife with smell of men
Full o' whiskey and half tight.
In the light of the cold-edged neon sign
That said "Mom's Place" by the road
You could see their faces, worn and wan
ANd the tracks of their heavy loads.

'Twas the Manne of Emmes who got there fust
He'd been leaning on the brown.
Then the Manne of Booques came wandering by
And ordered a stronger round.
And then Stilly Sage, decked out in bells,
Came high-stepping in the door.
And she ordered up some pink-tailed gin
And went dancing' 'cross the floor.

The air was turning pale and blue
As the discourse turned toward sin;
And the doors flapped wide and the wind came through
As the Gnu came lumbering in.
And he ordered up a quart or two
Of his favorite Canuck beer,
And he cleared his throat in a mighty way,
And we all turned around to hear.

Well he eyed us all with his bloodshot eyes,
And he looked at each man in the crowd
And his arms were big as a Newfie tide
AN' his shoulders wide and proud.
So the boys listened up when he stood up tall
And he growled to the crowd that day,
"Boys you know it ain't but 80 posts
'Til we hit the next of Kay!"

Well, Little Hawk there, at the end of the bar
He'd had a pint or two.
And although he weighed less by a hundred pounds,
He hollered, "That ain't true!"
And there musta been something in his mind
Something dark and free of fear,
'Cuz he cocked his arm back and let fly
With a mug of American beer.

That mug was full and solid, too,
And it parted old Gnu's hair
ANd splintered aside of the hardwood bar
And the beer was ev'ywhere.
Now Gnu was not in a favoring mood
And he reached down to his side,
But the barkeep brought up an old ought-eight
ANd suggested they go outside.

So half of us shoved old Little Hawk
Out into that wintry night
And the other half followed on with Gnu
And the word was. "There's a fight!"
And the word went round, and the whole damn town
Seemed to roll up just about then
ANd the Bookman started taking odds
Hawk six, to Gnuser's ten.

Now Hawkster didn't much like those odds,
Or the look of old Gnu's fists
And he swore the whole thing was a big mistake
And that he was a pacifist.
But they wouldn't let him back out of the ring
'Cuz the crowd was up in their blood,
And this was the biggest thing they'd seen
Since the Mayor caught the crud.

SO he squinted his eyes and he held his breath
And he let his arms go limp
And he waved his hands and invoked the name
Of Chongo, the dreamscape Chimp!
And a cloud of smoke rose up from the ground
SOur and thick and fat,
ANd curdy soon Chongo was standing there
Wearing shoes, and a pork-pie hat.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 04:48 PM

Marvellous doggerel about birderal, Little Hawk.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: gnu
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 04:37 PM

What is that, Rap?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 04:03 PM

"There is no problem so big or so complex that it cannot be overcome by the proper calculation and placement of the correct amount of high explosives."
                  --The System Administrator's Motto And Mantra


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: gnu
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 01:42 PM

A... I dunno if I would denigrate the knowledge of seafaring terminology of a man who knows more about small arms and C4 that you do. You excel at seafaring and Raps likes to blow shit up and shoot what's left. Shiver me timbers!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: gnu
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 12:56 PM

Awesome.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 20 Feb 12 - 12:43 PM

Okay, here's another new song. About a Budgie. Beauregard the Budgerigar! I recently acquired 4 lovely little Budgies and a sizeable cage, and have been enjoying their cheerful antics ever since. I got the idea for the song just the other day. It clips along ominously in the key of A minor....

Beauregard the Budgerigar                                        Key of Am

Beauregard the Budgerigar's intent on world dominion
He sits there boldly on his perch and contemplates his pinions
He bows to no authority and takes no human orders
Beauregard has plans that reach beyond his cage's borders

Beauregard's a bird who has Napoleonic visions
He sees himself commanding Budgie armies in divisions
Of green and yellow, blue and white with nipping beaks a-flashing
Beauregard intends to send the human world a-crashing

He flexes little wing muscles and preens his long tail feathers
And keeps an eye upon the news, the markets and the weather
The time will come, he knows, to sound a birdie clarion call
That will shatter every window, and rattle every wall

Beauregard has memorized a Budgie Manifesto
To set all Budgies free at last when Beauregard chirps "Presto!"
And sets his legions loose upon a world that's unsuspecting
A billion Budgies can't be stopped! These plans he is perfecting.

The time will come when Mrs Jones decides to clean his cage
Then Beauregard will strike! And Mrs Jones will know the rage
Of a Budgie Caesar on the march...her fate will be quite nasty
Beauregard intends to give the bitch a rhinoplasty

Then Beauregard will free all other Budgies in the realm
And at his feet they'll bow and Beauregard will take the helm
And steer the Budgie ship of state to triumph and to glory
And every future Budgie ever hatched will know his story

The buildings will be all torn down, and trees put in their places
A perch on every hand, and beady eyes on all the faces
A cuttlebone for every bird, a birdbath and some millet
A bowl of seeds for every bird, and a human slave to fill it

It's quiet in the house tonight, the humans all are sleeping
Yet in the darkness I can hear a soft, portentous peeping
It's Beauregard rehearsing as the final day draws near
It's Beauregard the Budgie, he's a bird who knows no fear
Yes, it's quiet in the predawn hours, the humans all are sleeping
Yet in the darkness I can hear a soft, portentous peeping....

Copyright   ©   2012   George Coventry


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 19 Feb 12 - 10:28 PM

Oh. So you know all that--or at least where to find it--but you don't know much about chafing gear? Was it your knowledge or your ignorance that was an overweening pretense? Or perhaps, both?


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 19 Feb 12 - 10:12 PM

Great guns! I'll grease yer ways, ye derelict dead Marine! Ye'll cut the painter and after I've scuppered and careened ye! I'll hull ye between wind and water! Ye think ye've plain sailing and an even keel when ye talk of me lack of nautical ways, but it's only nausea for ye and not nautical. Ye're the kind that'd bring a preacher aboard, ye waster! Ye'd eat bananas aboard a boat, I swear!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 19 Feb 12 - 08:59 PM

Seems clear that the world of nautical terms still drifts somewhere beyond the wide edges of Rapp's ken, but hell, I can forgive provincialism.

LH, that there is a mighty fine song. I wish you success with it!


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: gnu
Date: 19 Feb 12 - 03:25 PM

Good song, LH.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 19 Feb 12 - 02:21 PM

Amos is an artistic creation -- Cubist, I think, or Dadaist. Maybe nihilist. Maybe all three.

I liked it, anyway.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 19 Feb 12 - 04:17 AM

What? All you can engage in is mean-spirited sniping at Chongo after I have poured out my heart writing a brand new song and have posted it for YOUR specific enjoyment!!!???

Fie, sir, fie! You are as a creeping pox upon the fair face of artistic creation and appreciation alike.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 11:40 PM

Chongo's fantasies--being second order derivastive imaginings--are pale dishwater and wino piss compared to the rich muscular manly ending the Bookman just experiencved.

Too bad. Someone should tell Rapparree about the bad endings that come to those who are over-generous with diseases.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 10:40 PM

Awright, enough of this macho BS!

I promised Amos some poetry. Here is a song I wrote today:

The Best Way That I Can                                Key of Bb (G, capo 2)

I'm playing out this role
The best way that I can
Thunder in my head
Lightning in my hands
A fire in my heart
Burning down this road
And if you need a hand
I'll help you bear the load

I came here out of nowhere
A place no one can see
And I'll return there someday
Back to eternity
Where Angels cross the sky
Where life's an endless chain
That can't be bought or broken
That bears no mortal stain

I see an eastern moon
Rise above the trees
And from the west horizon
I feel the gentle breeze
That moves across this land
Sings in a million songs
And sheds the light of truth
On every right and wrong

I've known the love of friends
Those who have proven true
The healing touch of love
That I've received from you
And I will not go down
Until my work is done
And I will sing my songs
Until that crossing comes

And I will sing again
Upon a golden shore
And I'll embrace my friends
Those who have gone before
And I will kiss each lover
Each one who gave her hand
And shared one hour of joy
Here upon this ancient land

These lives we have moved through
We've been like spirits passing
Like beams and shadows falling
On fields of everlasting
Like birds that fly at dawn
We rest when sunset comes
And shine like stars in darkness
Brave as a million suns

I'm playing out this role
The best way that I can
Thunder in my head
Lightning in my hands
A fire in my heart
Burning down this road
And if you need a hand
I'll help you bear the load

Copyright   ©   2012    George Coventry


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Chongo Chimp
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 10:33 PM

Man, I have gotta get you in Chicago and hire you for my next encounter with the NSGs (North Side Gorillas). The way you TALK, I might not even have to lift a finger. They'd probably all just run away. On the other hand, they might kill you just to shut you up. If so, I would have plenty of time to get in a good firing position, and take 'em all out a second or two after they finished stompin' yer sorry ass into the pavement. And I would put flowers on yer grave afterward too, cos I'm a nice guy.

- Chongo


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 10:19 PM

Chongo, I don't fight unless I mean it. Them so-called "fights" you get into, with chair smashing and swinging from the lamps, ain't a fight. Now, see, if you tried that stuff with me -- say, bashing me with a chair -- I'd kick you right in the belly or lower and then break both your knees and your elbows and then I'd start with the tough stuff. That's cause my mother was an erupting volcano and my father was an earthquake. I used to wrassle wildcats when I was jist 2 years old, and the day I was born I strangled a rattlesnake in each hand and then drank a gallon of whiskey to celebrate! I kin outshoot, outshout, outlie, out fight, out drink, and out everything any ten men or twenty chimpanzees! Where I walk people bow low with respect and a rumor of my presence makes the mountains themselves tremble in fear! My brother is the lightning and my sister is the thunder! I kin catch more fish, shoot more elk, deer and moose, and kill more grizzlies with my bare hands than anyone who ever lived! Stand back, you damp sponge, or I'll wring you out!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Chongo Chimp
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 10:00 PM

Still tryin' to teach your Grandma how to steam open letters and forge checks, Rap?

I know how a real fight goes. I was talkin' about a fight between you and Amos, see? I would not call that a "real" fight.

- Chongo


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 09:24 PM

The "chafing gear"??? You dock your schooner by settin' out chafing dishes and the ship's silver from the Wardroom? Ain't you afraid the dock rats in Papeete or Sandy Ego will steal it or at least scratch it?

Chongo, a real fight goes like this, because you obviously don't know. I'm assuming you're fighting a right-handed person.

1. Move in close, turning slightly to your left as you do to protect your "groin".
2. Blocking with your left arm, slam the bottom of the palm of your right hand against your opponent's chin while at the same time shoving your fingers into his/her eye sockets, grabbing the lower orbits of the skull and pushing backwards.
3. As you do #2, above, sweep your right leg behind her/his calves. Your opponent will fall to the floor.
4. Jump with all your weight onto the middle of his or her chest. Jump up and down a couple of times just to hear the ribs crunch.
5. Go wash your hands and, if you feel like it, call an ambulance so they can call a hearse.

Elapsed time: about 20 seconds, not counting the phone call. Add ten seconds or so if the person has a gun or knife, add thirty seconds if you want to roll them after they're out of commission.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Chongo Chimp
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 08:25 PM

I can see where this is gonna end. Amos and Rap will each issue a triple-dog-dare challenge to the other to meet "after school" at the vacant lot and have it out. There they will face off in fronta their friends (the maybe 3 or 4 they have) and a crowd of bored kids who ain't got nothin' better goin' than to watch a pair of incompetent puffballs attempt to give each other a poundin'.

After a whole lotta empty boastin' and threats, accompanied by boos and catcalls from the impatient crowd, they will finally raise their fists, both scared outta their wits, and start circlin' each other in a wary fashion.

One of 'em will try a preliminary swing which will meet empty air as the other rapidly backpedals. The crowd will laugh and jeer. More futile blows at empty air will fail to meet the mark. Finally someone will sneak up behind one of our flailin' heroes and bodily push him into the other one, precipitatin' a wild struggle that features slaps, headlocks, hair pullin', chin pushin', ear twistin', kickin', pinchin', eye pokin', noogies, low blows, and other girlie tactics along that general line. They will end up rollin' around in the dirt and gettin' all red-faced with torn clothing, superficial scratches, and little real damage.

About that time their Mommy (MOABS) will arrive in a fury, the crowd will scatter and run, and the two tearful lads will be dragged off by their ears, one on each side, and given a good paddling to teach them not to get into fights.

Peace will return to the MOABS. And I will have a shot of whisky and turn up the sound on tonight's radio show, a rerun of the old program "The Shadow".

- Chongo


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 06:46 PM

AMos laughed in his snug Captain's cabin as the first harbor lights drifted past the porthole.

Man, the fantasies that Book Master could spin up. Even to thevery end, he didn't believe his garrulous fictions had finally caught up with him.

Ah, well. The chafing gear was in place, the mooring lines being run out, and in the wet, dark midnight air, the vessel was snugging down once again in her familiar berth.

It wouldn't be the same without the Book Manne, the skipper thought. Probably just as well, though.

He poured himself a tot of single-malt to celebrate, and dragged thoughtfully on his pipe. Some will have to tell our Mom, he thought. But it won't be me.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 04:01 PM

Mutiny
Now he's not the Captain that he used to be
Because the crew believed
In mutiny....


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 12:12 PM

Heh! The plot thickens. I've heard about Kakapupu. Nice place, but you want to keep to the windward side.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 11:53 AM

Below deck Dirty Hans quietly awakened the others. Knives, knotted rope ends, marlinspikes, whatever could be used as a weapon filled their hands and silent on their calloused bare feet they sneaked towards the Captain's cabin. They opened the door and out of the darkness a voice said, "What? Are we aground again?" but without a sound a cosh caused a sudden silence.

The First Mate helped wrap the body in canvas and roped it upright against a bulkhead.

Meanwhile, the ship had turned and was beating back towards the azure seas of the South Pacific.

Fortunately no drilling had been required, and the buckets began, drop by drop, to fill when the spiles were inserted.

"Good enough," whispered the First Mate. "We'll boil it down for syrup when we've got twenty gallons and there should be plenty more where that came from. Now let's make sail for Kakapupu."

Dirty Hans sniffed. "Drop the Book Master overboard, will he? Good that we were below to catch him and toss the Captain's Chest overboard instead! He won't be needin' it anymore!"

And to the drip,drip, drip of nascent maple syrup the crew turned to their duties, watch and watch.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 10:44 AM

factual narrative

MOM heard you just now - don't you remember the last time someone said that? She locked herself in the attic for a week. Keep your voice down!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 10:25 AM

Whoo-Hoo! Very atmospheric, Amos. I like it.

Tell you what. I'll post some song lyrics here in a bit, since you've been upbraiding me for lack of creativity from time to time.

Wait for it.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 18 Feb 12 - 08:46 AM

Wet, salt air in the dark. The small slaps of low waves , staccato on piers and timbers. There is a light wind, a small moon, and a scud of thin clouds over the thick warm night. The schooner moves in her sleep, strains mooring lines of old hemp, settles back, nodding slightly, to her fenders. Waves slap and the breeze dances among her lazy lines. The moist ocean-dew coats the rails, the hatchways, the belaying pins around the mainmast, glancing the moonglow into the night.


In real time, yesterday was long and intense. Finished a major patent application, then went to a writer's group meeting which was very lively. Then came home and did a two and a half hour counseling session and then fell into bed and slept until five int he morning.

Back on the schooner, the beefy hands snore below decks, heating the cabin air with their dreaming breaths. They are weary and sleeping deeply. They had been off the point all night, out beyond the five-mile line, where the fathoms multiply into the black water and whales sing in the fall. At six bells of the midnight watch they had heaved to, facing the slow swell on the port bow, the bowspirit nodding between sky and dark water, and they had manhandled a large and bulky object to the quarterdeck rail. The thing was heavy--even without the added lead it would have been two hundred pounds of mass, wrapped in grimy canvas. When the boatswain finished with it, it would have weighed three hundred as he sewed it up. The hands rolled and heaved it onto a wide oak plank and raised it carefully to the quarterdeck rail and balanced it their, have outboard over the lapping black water.

Capn Amos, wan in moonlight and broad in his dark sea peacoat,stepped to the side of the thing, laid a hand on it, and intoned a quiet prayer. "We commit your sins and errors to the deep."

Then he nodded a signal to Curly and Left Jack, and the long bulky form was tilted slowly on its plank until it slid, reluctantly, into the moon-glittering sea and was slowly swallowed by blackness and deep water.

Amos stared at the dark water and sighed. He would tell no-one what had become of the mortal remains of the Book Master. No-one needed to know, and the story was too ugly for most people's ears. Better the tale should remain untold.

He moved to the binnacle and whispered instructions to Right Jack at the helm. The schooner fell off, and picked up way, and turned toward harbor.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 17 Feb 12 - 10:27 PM

Word has come from the See Dee See
Word has come to my town
Word has come from the See Dee See
They tell me bold Amos ain't dead.

It's Maple Syrup Urine Disease, almost certainly stemming from some indiscreet liaison with a diseased Acer saccharum during his youth in the Northeast, likely in Vermont. He's been sent home where, during the early spring, he can be sap tapped for syrup.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 17 Feb 12 - 07:49 PM

Denial and transference -- the penpenultimate final stages. Tsk, tsk, poor Amos.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 17 Feb 12 - 05:20 PM

Ah, Amos...if you only knew what a killer song I have written, based on the inspiration sparked by these "imaginary" posts of yours.

If you are nice to Chongo, I may even share the eventual flood of royalties with you. ;-D


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