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BS: The Mother of all BS threads

Rapparee 13 May 10 - 08:26 AM
Amos 12 May 10 - 11:26 PM
GUEST,Eiseley 12 May 10 - 10:50 PM
Rapparee 12 May 10 - 10:26 PM
gnu 12 May 10 - 10:02 PM
Rapparee 12 May 10 - 09:45 PM
Acme 12 May 10 - 09:36 PM
Little Hawk 12 May 10 - 09:21 PM
Amos 12 May 10 - 06:34 PM
Acme 12 May 10 - 03:17 PM
MMario 12 May 10 - 03:05 PM
GUEST,Eiseley 12 May 10 - 03:02 PM
Rapparee 12 May 10 - 02:54 PM
Rapparee 12 May 10 - 02:45 PM
Rapparee 12 May 10 - 02:45 PM
Rapparee 12 May 10 - 02:44 PM
Little Hawk 12 May 10 - 02:03 PM
Amos 12 May 10 - 01:58 PM
MMario 12 May 10 - 01:04 PM
GUEST,Eiseley 12 May 10 - 01:04 PM
Amos 12 May 10 - 12:44 PM
Rapparee 12 May 10 - 11:47 AM
MMario 12 May 10 - 10:40 AM
SINSULL 12 May 10 - 10:27 AM
Rapparee 12 May 10 - 10:20 AM
Rapparee 12 May 10 - 10:15 AM
Amos 12 May 10 - 09:29 AM
MMario 12 May 10 - 09:26 AM
Janie 12 May 10 - 01:32 AM
Janie 12 May 10 - 01:28 AM
Amos 12 May 10 - 12:50 AM
Rapparee 11 May 10 - 07:12 PM
Little Hawk 11 May 10 - 03:26 PM
Amos 11 May 10 - 03:06 PM
Rapparee 11 May 10 - 02:58 PM
Little Hawk 11 May 10 - 01:52 PM
MMario 11 May 10 - 01:30 PM
Amos 11 May 10 - 01:11 PM
Little Hawk 11 May 10 - 12:17 PM
MMario 11 May 10 - 11:20 AM
Amos 11 May 10 - 10:21 AM
Rapparee 11 May 10 - 09:46 AM
Little Hawk 11 May 10 - 12:47 AM
Eiseley 10 May 10 - 11:34 PM
Acme 10 May 10 - 10:58 PM
Janie 10 May 10 - 10:36 PM
Rapparee 10 May 10 - 09:43 PM
Eiseley 10 May 10 - 08:30 PM
Amos 10 May 10 - 07:03 PM
Little Hawk 10 May 10 - 06:36 PM
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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 13 May 10 - 08:26 AM

All of that has long passed.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 12 May 10 - 11:26 PM

GReat tale, MAestro!


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Eiseley
Date: 12 May 10 - 10:50 PM

Absolutely wonderful, Rapaire. Thank you. And just in time for the boys' bedtime story!

But don't you get scared that someone will fire an iron bullet in your vicinity, or that your gun will stick in your hand and you can't drop it fast enough when the cops start coming?

Eiseley


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 12 May 10 - 10:26 PM

National Institutes of Health (US).

Health/Sante Canada.


Wikipedia.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: gnu
Date: 12 May 10 - 10:02 PM

LH, indeed.

Cell phones are especially dangerous. No medical studies yet. But, after my cousin's rough go during which he was "advised" by one of the top such docs in New York (a relativve) who is backed up by same on the west USA coast, and after I had a "lump" under my right ear removed, I don't use a cell any more. I just don't.... didn't have one for decades so I don't NEED one now.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 12 May 10 - 09:45 PM

And now, Ladies and Gentlemen of MOAB, back by popular demand:

         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: Acme
Date: 12 May 10 - 09:36 PM

There ya go. Mom has one still wired in the library--you know, the smallish room off of the living room that has a wall of bookshelves, her sewing stuff, and an old fashioned typewriter desk that you have to lift and pull to open. That's where she keeps her Remington Rand.

(Interestingly, it happens to look just like my mother's library in the old house in Everett.)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 12 May 10 - 09:21 PM

Those big black phones had another advantage. They didn't irradiate your body with high-frequency electro-magnetic waves while you were using them.

All cordless electric devices do that. There are significant negative health effects resulting from it...some individuals being worse affected than others.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 12 May 10 - 06:34 PM

Yeah, they knew how to build them in those days. Big, boxy, heavy, almost unbreakable Bakelite (unless you slammed them with a hammer). Just think how many hours of yearning teenage moonery went on through those big black phones!!


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 12 May 10 - 03:17 PM

I remember trying to use an old dial phone at an apartment we had back in the 1980s. There isn't enough power coming through the lines, I don't think, to run them any more. It takes more juice to make those bells ring.

I was watching one of the really early episodes of Perry Mason last summer and had a great laugh when watching the woman who had been framed for a murder pick up a revolver and drop it into her purse to take to Perry Mason. It occurred to me that if she'd put a 1957 phone in her purse also, she'd have needed a pocketbook the size of a modest piece of luggage. :)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 12 May 10 - 03:05 PM

dry-cured?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Eiseley
Date: 12 May 10 - 03:02 PM

And Aged to Perfection as well? Or just posted by one who has?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 12 May 10 - 02:54 PM

And while not prime, it's certainly rare and well-done.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 12 May 10 - 02:45 PM

35553! What a palindrome!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 12 May 10 - 02:45 PM

2.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 12 May 10 - 02:44 PM

Yeah, but with a little more practice I should be spot on the next time.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 12 May 10 - 02:03 PM

Taking a look here, I see that I have not posted in quite some time, relatively speaking.


Did you miss me?   ;-)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 12 May 10 - 01:58 PM

That is a sad picture, Ms Eiseley. I guess, of course, it is the sign of changing times, but I still had to do a double-take. Not know how to work a rotary phone? Wow... I might have felt the same way confronted, at that age, with a Marconi telegraph key, I suppose. And, I guess, I would have melted with tears too, in that situation. But not now--no, sir!! I would just ask someone.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 12 May 10 - 01:04 PM

Well lackaday; she fit in so well I didn't even Notice that Miss Maniac had come to call.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Eiseley
Date: 12 May 10 - 01:04 PM

There was a dial telephone at the nurse's office in the elementary school. My friend who was an aide walked by and saw a little boy sitting inside just melting with tears. She walked in and the poor little sick boy was sobbing because he had to call his mother and he didn't know how to work the telephone. He had absolutely no idea that he had to stick his finger in at a number and pull the dial around until it stopped.

That may have been one of the last rotary phones in Idaho.

Eiseley


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 12 May 10 - 12:44 PM

Welcome to the Mother of all BS, SINS. Good to see ya in these parts.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 12 May 10 - 11:47 AM

My first phone. My second phone.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 12 May 10 - 10:40 AM

I remeber the first time we were traveling and encountered phones that had to be dialed...up until that time the only phones I knew had live operators. IN fact, several of the operators were relatives so we didn't even have to know numbers.

"Hi! Aunt Vi? Can you connect me to Aunt Louise?"

or "Aunt Nora, I've been trying to reach Gramma, can you connect me?"

Being able to DIAL a phone was so futuristic!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: SINSULL
Date: 12 May 10 - 10:27 AM

"Black rotary dial phones on each floor."

On each floor? We had one on the kitchen wall which my father refused to buy for $5 when Ma Bell was broken up. Yup - still paid the monthly rental fee for years and years.
The phone was installed in 1952; the house was sold in 1998. That phone was worth more than the house but Dad left it on the wall insisting that the phone company (he hated the phone company) had to send someone to get it. They never did.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 12 May 10 - 10:20 AM

Here I lay me down to sleep
To wait the coming morrow,
Perhaps success, perhaps defeat
And everlasting sorrow.
Yet come what will, I'll try it once,
My conditions can't be worse,
And if there's money in that box,
'Tis money in my purse.
             --The Po8


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 12 May 10 - 10:15 AM

I've labored long and hard for bread
For honor and for riches
But on my corns too long you've trod
You fine-haired sons of bitches
                  --The Po8


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 12 May 10 - 09:29 AM

"The so-called Geezer Bandit hit his ninth San Diego-area bank Tuesday, the FBI said.

The man, presenting a demand note and flashing a revolver, robbed the Bank of America branch in Santee. A reward of $16,000 is being offered for information leading to an arrest in the string of robberies that began last summer.

The FBI gave the robber his nickname because he is believed to be between 60 and 70 years old. Sometimes he has a plastic oxygen tube leading from his nose.

-- Tony Perry in San Diego

Photo: "Geezer Bandit" on surveillance camera. Credit: FBI
" (LA Times)


Rapaire:

Look, if you are that hard up for money, let's talk. Maybe we could find you some part time work bagging for Henry's. But let me know the next time you plan to be in town. I'd hate to miss you, and there's a 16K reward for information.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 12 May 10 - 09:26 AM

IF prime numbers were not more rare, they would be well done, yes? And though to "catch" a prime is indeed well done, prime numbers are better off more rare. They are more tender that way, and more special.

They do become less frequent as numbers become larger. I think it's because large size can reduce reproductive efficiency.

They taught us that in Ecology 101.

r possibly they become more rare as they grow larger because of population pressure.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 12 May 10 - 01:32 AM

In case you wondered, that last post was a prime number. 'Tis a shame prime numbers are not more rare.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 12 May 10 - 01:28 AM

pssst....let's celebrate....drinks and dinner on me.


I have a new job!







Not to be impolite, but it would be best if Shane did not show up for the party. I'll make it worth his while to stay gone.....


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 12 May 10 - 12:50 AM

I think you are both possibly going to fall down, for different reasons.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 11 May 10 - 07:12 PM

Either fall down and worship me, LH, or I'll poke my "finger" into your pre-frontal cortex. Amos, like Shame, has a Special Purpose.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 11 May 10 - 03:26 PM

He doth fantasize large. Gigantic, in fact.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 11 May 10 - 03:06 PM

While I agree with the Special Purpose part, I think it is MOST presumptuous of an identity like "Rapaire", only lately coughed out upon the carpet of Mudcat Life by a one-time library director, to be given such arrogant lines to assert.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 11 May 10 - 02:58 PM

All of which is true, except that you have overlooked that Khandu is MY creation and without me there is nothing at all, for I created everything. I had special reasons for creating Amos; he is destined for a Special Purpose.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 11 May 10 - 01:52 PM

Ha! ;-D Great answer, Amos.

Mario, I think that sounds quite plausible.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 11 May 10 - 01:30 PM

I thought it had been established that we were all nothing but Turing programs on Max's computer? And Max is a delusion of Khandu's?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 11 May 10 - 01:11 PM

And this would be bad because....?



A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 11 May 10 - 12:17 PM

Your whole flippin' existence is an imaginary projection, Amos. And no one else could possibly have come up with it except for you, so I understand why you cleave to it so faithfully. ;-)

Ask yourself sometime what you would DO if you didn't have people like me and Rapaire to joust with here, and if you didn't have this silly thread to expound on daily. You know what I think? I think you'd be sitting, sweaty and disheveled in some sweltering cabana in the Caribbean, rolling contraband cigars, and surrounded by your long-suffering wife and about 18 brown-skinned progeny. Your view of the world would be summed up in one simple set of phrases: "Hijo de puta! Es muy caliente hoy. Da me otra serveza, mujer!"


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 11 May 10 - 11:20 AM

So we send her *IMAGINARY* cards.


yeesh--- I guess MOM may have raised at least one dummie....


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 11 May 10 - 10:21 AM

Wait--this is all wrong.

Shane is an imaginary projection of Little Hawk's internal Disheveled Self.

His mother and father were both Little Hawk. Unless he delegated one of the hats to Chongo.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 11 May 10 - 09:46 AM

I think we should all send HER congratulations cards.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 11 May 10 - 12:47 AM

If it turns out that Shane's mother IS dead, we should all send him sympathy cards, eh?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Eiseley
Date: 10 May 10 - 11:34 PM

And be sure to read the really great stories Rapaire wrote.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 May 10 - 10:58 PM

It drifts pretty deep here, Janie, like a batch of high quality compost. Dig through, sift it around, enjoy it. :)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 10 May 10 - 10:36 PM

And here I was, worrying that I would get too far behind the drift to catch up.....


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 10 May 10 - 09:43 PM

Wait until he's standing with some friends. Let's say the group is made up of Bob, Tom, Jim, and Shame. You say, "Hey, any of you guys have living mothers? No, no, not you Shame." Or you can ask him, "Hey, how does it feel when your mother's dead?" Be subtle, because you wouldn't want to hurt whatever passes for his feelings, assuming he has any -- I've heard rumours that when his biology class pithed a frog they missed and got you-know-who.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Eiseley
Date: 10 May 10 - 08:30 PM

You may have to break the news to him, LH, in case he doesn't know already. If so, I urge you to do it gently, like the character in one of Charles Dickens' books: "Your mother is sick, your mother is dying, your mother is dead."


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

"Hey, Shane--yo mommmma's daid, right?"

Or something like that.

Don't worry about hurting his feelings. Figments have no intestinal delicacy.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 10 May 10 - 06:36 PM

I think she passed away some years ago. I'll have to ask him, in a diplomatic way, of course.


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