Suppository for morons with web pages.

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Suppository for morons with web pages.

Post by kamikazifreak » Tue Apr 22, 2003 2:35 pm

This is for the stupidest things of the internet. I find this stuff and wonder what kinds of morons occupy the world.


When the candles on one's birthday cake number less than six, yet
more than eight, when you are, to use the vernacular of the street,
seven, losing one's virginity to a rubber band just to appease the
meadowdwellers is a painful experience both physically and
emotionally, and thus inadvisable to all but the greenest of
production engineers - of which I was, but between 13 and 16, and
certainly not seven. Pain, suffering, melted rubber, that's why the
sentences are so long.

They said I reacted in the most natural way possible: I wore my hat
backwards and asked people what they thought about Shakespeare.
Pretentious and yet down to earth, you really carry that off well;
kudos on that whole not being a wanker thing. After that I decided to
be a piece of cheese. Much better. Crash goes the food as it crashes
on the floor, sounding like food crashing on the floor. Crash goes
the food lying on the floor after crashing to the floor. Crash goes
the food as it rots over the course of the next few days when people
just leave me in the fridge, humouring me as it's just a phase. Crash
goes the weasel as she's caught between the blades of a food
processor, especially if she's got a glass bowl for a stomach.

Sitting in fridges is cold work, even if you have an air hose running
through a crack in the door. I was young, I was weak, I wore gloves.
This contradiction of basic cheese mimicking etiquette, known in
concentric circles as The Glove Thing, was my one regret after this
whole sordid incident that haunts me, painfully, itchingly, like an
anus in the moonlight. The only way I could placate my feeling of
some negative thing was to place another glove on the piece of gouda
that I kept with me in the fridge at all times - to be used as a
pillow at night, and as entertainment during the day. It didn't help.
Cue sordid gouda guilt.

Stopping briefly to say "Nuhoy", and stopping even more briefly to
say "Glaar" - even though the number of letters is the same, you'll
note that the former has a syllable more than the latter; although
the double A can be stretched for as long as one's lungs will remain
draining, in this instance it's a quick "Glaar" with greater emphasis
placed on the face wobble - I tried counselling. It worked and I got
over that whole 'eat me, I'm a piece of cheese thing'. Dipdy dipdy
dipdy, I don't care, end. Cannibalism rocks though, I just forgot to
mention that.

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Post by NotQuiteDead » Tue Apr 22, 2003 4:01 pm


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Post by Eronarn » Tue Apr 22, 2003 5:14 pm

I'm the Official Errant Story Postwhore.

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Post by Shanira » Tue Apr 22, 2003 5:18 pm

My head hurts now... :|

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Post by SafetyDancer » Tue Apr 22, 2003 6:28 pm

Oh, I get it, you're trying to take over the world. have fun.

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Re: Suppository for morons with web pages.

Post by SothThe69th » Tue Apr 22, 2003 6:32 pm

kamikazifreak, foolish mortal he be, wrote:This is for the stupidest things of the internet. I find this stuff and wonder what kinds of morons occupy the world.
<insert something stupid here>
I read this stuff and wonder, who would go to the trouble of finding this moronic stuff, THEN post it saying how stupid it is? Really, who is the bigger fool, the man who writes something stupid, or the man who spreads it around the net?
"Soth, you truly exemplify the gallant, hopeless romantic.." Lunatic Jedi

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Post by Gaias_Spirit » Tue Apr 22, 2003 6:35 pm

i'd say the man who spreads it but thats just me
Let me be the down fall of humanity....
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Post by Fixer » Tue Apr 22, 2003 6:40 pm

... I tried reading the first few sentences, realized it was a collection of nonsense (subliminal messages?) and just refused to read anything else. The comments are more amusing.
I don't care who's right, who's wrong, or what you meant to say. Only thing I care about is the Truth. If you have it, good, share it. If not, find it. If you want to argue, do it with someone else.

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Post by Gaias_Spirit » Tue Apr 22, 2003 6:44 pm

I only read like the first paragraph was giving me a bloody head ache, which I still have (bitch bitch whine)
Let me be the down fall of humanity....
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Post by kamikazifreak » Tue Apr 22, 2003 7:16 pm

Yeah, why would someone waste all that time? He's a bigger moron then the people who wrote... oh, wait, it was me...

Here's more:

Did you know that the warm, woolly friend that keeps you comfortable
on all cold winter days has a deeper, darker nature that you didn't
know of? Or maybe you knew deep inside but didn't want to know

Now the time for disclosure has come. We will inform you about the
real nature of this piece of winter gear, and the evil hidden agenda
that intends to disrupt your normal life forever.


What is a scarf?
A scarf is a nice, long and warm piece of knitted wool, often
outfitted with nice colours and pretty motives. What you don't know
is that this rather peaceful image is a blatant lie, brought to you
by the government that doesn't want you to think for yourself.

The truth about scarfs isn't widespread, and all forms of government
desperately try to avoid it leaking out to the general public, in
fear of widespread panic and a possible loss of control of the
population. And that is exactly what this is all about...control.
Scarfs have a total and ruthless control of all layers of government,
and do not hestitate to wield this power to exterminate all
opposition. They want to control your entire life for their own
purposes, and don't really give a dime for what you happen to think
about that!

You probably think this is a pretty lame article, because you never
see live pictures on tv featuring a scarf doing its evil bidding. But
then again that's pretty good to explain. TV is the perfect medium to
show you the things they want you to see. You've got 500 channels but
nothing to watch ... except what they want you to see. You never see
scarfs ... but you do see enough ties, don't you?

More about scarfs and Ties:

Ties are the pathetic, mindless slaves that do the hard, boring
labour for their evil masters. They are nothing more than smaller,
docile and totally devout scarfs .. that desperately want to grow up
to become like their deities ... and they will, if they manage to
survive. They grow on mouldy pieces of cabbage, deep under the normal
living levels of the city, and get indoctrinated in scarf schools
specially tailored to maximize the effect of the post-hypnotic
learning methods of the walruses, another scarf slave-race. When they
are young they are usually brightly colored, and can sport images of
cartoon caracters and funny pictures.

When they reach the equivalent of maturity the ties are distributed
by normal businesses, owned by holding companies controlled by
scarfs, and take up their place in our society...which is really
their society of course. In time, ties are worn, discarded, then they
shed their skin and re-hatch in garbage cans and dumping grounds,
then crawl back to stores to be sold again. Each time the tie gets a
little bit less brightly colored and fun, and gradually changes in a
sombre, dark specimen.

After a few years hatching and re-hatching, a tie gets bigger and
bigger, and learns more evil ways to influence its wearer. The
usually feed themselves on politicians and businessmen in this stage,
their preferred food when they enter the final stages of their tie-
ness. How does a scarf eat you think. Well, what do you think? You
wrap these creatures around your neck and you expect them to eat
soup? No way, they aren't that friendly you know. They feed on your
blood and occasional pieces of raw meat they catch when you're
asleep. They also have a fondness of shaving cream and little yellow
pieces of earthenware. but we'll tell you more about their habits
later on in this article.

Finally, when the ties are fully grown and excell in pure, horrible
evil and capable of letting their hosts rant for countless hours
(mostly politicians and car salesmen), they undergo their final and
major change. Late at night, when it's misty and cold, they crawl
away and get into the sewers, where they find the communities of
scarfs they yearn to join.

When they arrive at their final testing ground, they indulge in weird
and dangerous rituals involving large amounts of melted and grated
cheese, a pickle, and lots of music by Ben Cramer and the Backstreet
Boys. They tend to behave rather annoying, and make a mess in
general, which is the entire meaning of it all of course. After some
while, the party dies down and the new initiate goes to sleep, to
shed its skin at night and to emerge as a freshly woven scarf in the

Not all ties make it to their full scarfian destiny. Many get lost in
the tunnels under the cities, to be eaten alive by mutant space frogs
of doom and lone crockodiles, and a lot of ties drown in melted
cheese when they listen to closely to the horrifying music played in
the rituals. Even more go stark raving mad and burn their brains out,
resulting in a permanently comatose tie. These are sold as normal
ties afterwards, making a nice profit in the process. Sometimes a tie
emerges from this coma, which gives particularly nasty results, but
it doesn't happen very often.

When a new scarf is born from a tie, a lot changes. First of all, the
scraf aqquires a particularly sick kind of humor and a severe lack of
taste. Their new skin usually contains a horrible combination of
colors and pathetic patterns, capable of severely disrupting your
visual cortex, inducing hallicunations and a unstoppable urge to
stuff your nose full of mashed potatoes. They also tend to hum
utterly insane melodies that hover at the edge of what normal people
can hear, causing abnormal behavior in most people, causing heavy
psychotic abberations in others. This is the age when they unleash
their terror upon the human race in earnest.

The horror, the horror!

They cause you to watch stupid programs on tv that you hate but that
you watch anyway, obeying an unknown urge (scarfian telepathy). You
have a job you don't like and have to fill in papers and make useless
reports all day long while you have to wear a dull suit and a tie.
Well that is no work, that's a tie feeding station! No wonder you
feel miserable!

They make you buy records of dumb music you hear on the radio all the
time, music they forcibly insert into your life in order to keep you
humming brainless songs all day. They even influence the military-
industrial complex in order to create sonical weaponry like the Spice
Girls and The Backstreet Boys, further crawling into your mind. They
can influence your sense of being by ramming you full of idols they
create (again the Spice Girls and the like), so you want to be like
them and are a willing slave of Scarf wickedry.

Stand up to them while you can! Don't listen to the 'popular' tv or
radio stuff, because it is an evil and horrible way of influence your
very sense of being. You don't want to become a mindless drone do

A way to be free

You can escape their sick influence in your life by using a few
simple precautions. when you buy a tie or scarf, always bring a
hammer, some matches, petrol, and some grated cheese with you. In
order to determine if you are buying a dead (and harmless) tie or
scarf you can try the following things.

Smash the damned thing repeatedly with a hammer. This will most
surely arouse it when it's sleepy. If it wakes, run away hard!

Set fire to it when the hammer trick doesn't work. If it is hard to
set it alight, use petrol to enhance the experience. Most of the time
shopkeepers don't allow you to set fire to scarfs and ties in their
shop, but do it anyway. If they don't permit it they are probably
mindless drones or scarf-lovers, and you should avoid them if
possible. When you succesfully set fire to a scarf or tie, it might
start trashing around and try to bite you. Hit it as hard as possible
with your hammer when it does this, in order to distract it from the
fire. It may also be possible that it doesn't move, in order to give
you a false sense of security. It'll strike when you get to close...

If the fire doesn't arouse it, it's time for the ultimate test:
grated cheese. This is a very addictive drug to scarfs and ties, it
makes them behave very annoying and they tend to start hopping around
in a peculiar way. Sprinkle the cheese lightly on top of the (still
smoking) tie / scarf. It should start behaving weird as soon as you
open the package, and it should get totally mad when you sprinkle the
cheese over it. If it doesn't do anything, the scarf or tie MUST be
harmless (e.g. dead). You can safely use it then, and enjoy a life
with a scarf or tie without the usual, nasty consequences.

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Post by Fixer » Tue Apr 22, 2003 7:19 pm

..... that is one of the most bizzare things I have ever read.

Funny.... but bizzare.
I don't care who's right, who's wrong, or what you meant to say. Only thing I care about is the Truth. If you have it, good, share it. If not, find it. If you want to argue, do it with someone else.

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Post by Raven_dragon » Tue Apr 22, 2003 7:22 pm

Bazaar, yes.
Yet Strangely, it all makes sense.
Everyone! Boycott scarfs today!
Jeanka: So...remind me why we are building this again?
Raven: So we can figure out what it does.

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Post by kamikazifreak » Tue Apr 22, 2003 7:25 pm

I'll get more:

Girls With Guns: The Movie
By: ELRutt

Act 2: All of Existence Gets Wiped off the Exquisitely Woven Fabric of Eternity

* * *

Sitting around backstage, Aika, Becky, Aki, Lina, Lee, Bob from accounting and
a box of carpet tacks discussed the latest script revision. Well, at least,
that's what they told the director. Actually, they were playing poker.

"I can't believe what they do to my character in scene 24," Aika remarked as she

"I know, and this whole part here with the giant wombat... I don't even want to
_think_ of the cleaning bill," Becky replied while she raised the pot.

"It figures something like [THIS] would happen," Bob added, seeing her bet and
raised it. "Now I'm going to have to redo the _entire_ budget."

Everyone stared at Bob.

"What? Do you think I'm bluffing?" he asked warily.

"Why are you here?" Aika got in his face.
"I manage the budget for the story. Are you going to see my bet or fold-" he
responded quickly.

"No, stupid. Why are you here in this game? I didn't invite you. Did any of
you?" Aika surveyed the group.

All heads shook "no" in response.

"Um... well, I uh... can explain... heh, heh," Bob stammered.

"Piss off!" Becky exclaimed as she threw the box of carpet tacks at the
intruding accountant.

"Man, those losers from accounting need to get a life," Aika stated, taking
Bob's stack of chips and putting them back into the tray. She reshuffled the
deck and dealt.

"I hear that," Lina agreed, even though it wasn't her turn, thus proving that
people can talk out of the playing order.

"I sure hope they don't change anything else," Lee hoped after he anteed-up.
"It's bad enough I'm playing this role. It doesn't fit my character at all. Now,
I have to go out and-"

"Call to places everyone," Larry the Retarded Grip announced. He wasn't really
retarded everyone just said he was because he acted like a prick most of the
time, and by "most" I mean every single second of his pissant life.

Groans of displeasure were his answer.

"Hey, come on, guys," Larry attempted to rally the troops, "the director wants
to begin Act 2. So let's go out there and show him how much we enjoy this story,

"Bite me!"

"Screw you."

"You're a dick."

And other more colorful phrases were uttered as everyone stood up and walked
towards the set. All the gaffers, grips, camera men, best boys and the rest of
the crew members who had even sillier titles were there, just not the director.

"Where's the director, ass?" Aika kindly asked Larry.

"He'll be right here, he's finishing up another scene," Larry answered. "Bitch,"
he added under his breath.

Aika pondered, "What other scene?"

* * *

All of the great evils of the universe all had gathered in-

* * *

"That one?" Aika asked.

"Yes, now be quiet." Larry commanded.

* * *

-one place-

* * *

"Don't you tell me what to do, you pompous, little-" Aika screamed in rage.

"Aika, calm down! Let the scene finish so we can do ours," Becky ordered.

Aika silently fumed.

* * *

Are you quite finished?

The great evils of the universe had gathered in one place again for the first
time. In the Staples Center in LA, a meeting had been called. All of the big
names in villainy and general badness were in attendance. Also a few of the
smaller, less significant names.

Nemesis Serendipity Villyn, the man with the plan and no minions clever enough
to carry it out.

Chuthulu, whose name no author could spell correctly.

The Orochi, ex-destructive force, current lawyer.

Woodsy the Owl, his motto: "Don't Fuck With Nature!"

Mr. Sunshine, pedophile, pervert, Pikachu-outfit.

"Queen Pulsating, Bloated, Festering, Sweaty, Pus-filled, Malformed
Slug-For-A-Butt", with a name that pretty much says it all.

High Commander Torquemada, Subcommander [Not Available At Your Clearance], and
Mystic Advisor Flibbity Wumpus, warriors bearing the sole responsibility for the
lack of plot development or a coherent storyline.

"Why us?" they asked.

Because I don't like you. Moving on...

Hans, zhe apparently digs his manly muscles.

Jinnai and his Controversial Jack spawned newts, bad stuff, evil intentions.

Akane Tendo, I mean, just look at her.

Ixupi, all skin flaying, all the time.

Ramsbottom, which is nothing more than a clever title, I've checked.

Can of Spam, mystery of the kitchen since 1937.

Samuel Claymore, strange guy, hot ass.

Oh, and that naked guy with the big wang.

And also every other villain who had even the slightest reference anywhere in
Girls With Guns whose names I don't feel like looking up. Plus a few other minor
characters. The mingling, maniacal minions of mysterious makings moved milled
around in an alliterated sort of way. Every being with a physical body snacked
on the complimentary coffee and donuts. All the bodiless beings were given 64-oz
Big Gulps filled with the souls of hermaphroditic, virgin, field-mice (a rare

Calling the meeting to order, Kamiversal Jack stepped up to the podium.
"Everybody, shut up and sit down!" He paused while the creatures obeyed. "Now, I
have called you all back from the dead or Illinois to address a very important
issue that has arisen. This story needs development, badly. Zerplotty, our great
ruler, has informed me that, since this story is ending something immensely
evil must occur in order to build up to a fantastic climax." Jack smiled at
Kasumi as he said that last part. "None of you so far have even attempted
anything remotely close to any sort of evil scheme. Sure there is some prophecy
foretelling the end of existence by an all-powerful super evil, but that's not
good enough." Jack let this sink in. "The narrative lately has all been for the
point of view of the heroes. We need scenes of the dark side to make this ending
work. Now are there any suggestions?"

After a few nervous glances from the audience a hand near the back slowly went

* * *

Back in the meeting room of the Secret Resistance Base for the Society of People
Against the Apocalypse, the plot was thickening nicely.

"Now that all you are back together, you must start preparing for the climactic
battle scene. You four must embark on a journey to discover the source of
ultimate power. Only with this will you be able to face the evil. It will not
be an easy task. I will give you all the information I can before you leave. I
must remain behind, cause, you know, my bad back and all. To begin your quest
you must first-" Lee paused in his oration to answer Becky's raised hand, "Yes,

"So she," Becky indicated Aika, "is our Aika, right?"

Lee fainted.

Lina got up from her seat and entered the bathroom. Coming back with a bucket of
cold water, she splashed it on the unconscious Time Card wielder. Before the
girls eyes, his body morphed into that of the fairer sex. He was startled back
into consciousness.

"Oh no! You have found out my secret! I suppose I should explain myself," Lee
prepared to give more long-winded exposition.

Aika interrupted, "Hold on! Just hold it one damn minute here! Ranma?! The plot
of Ranma has been thrown into this now?! I can't take this horrible story
anymore! I am outta here!" With that Aika grabbed hold of Becky's blouse and
drug her out of the building. Once outside Aika raved, "It was bad enough we
were about to be sent on some pointless quest, but not another anime plot
crossover! I've had all I can take! This story has been crap since it began!
Nothing was ever resolved! Not one character would stay dead! The author kept
playing 'screw the next guy' as opposed to writing a decent part! The whole
thing is ludicrous! It must be stopped right now!"

Freeing herself from Aika grip Becky stopped, "What do you propose we do?"

Aika wheeled on Becky, an evil look in her eye, "We kill everyone."

"... Everyone?" Becky asked, a little frightened.

"Every single character that was ever introduced, dead." Aika's little mind went

Becky was unsure, but Agent BA-3 was all for it. "I'm game, let's go."

Turning around both girls returned to the Secret Resistance Base for the Society
of People Against the Apocalypse meeting room and began the massacre.

* * *

Jack looked severely pissed off. "No wonder this story hasn't gone anywhere!
You're all morons! Every single one of you can't come up with a decent idea for
evilness! I just can't believe this! Giant Mutant Produce?! Come on Mr.
Sunshine! Swallow the all the souls of the earth?! It's been done! Isn't there
an original bone in any of your bodies or what passes as one in some cases?!
This story is going to die, people! Do you hear me?! Going... to... DIE!!!"

Little did Jack know how right he was.

* * *

Aika and Becky stood outside the door of the Staples Center, they're outfits
freshly stained with the blood and guts of two Ex-Magical Girls and a certain
Prophet of Time. All of the exits had been barricaded, this door was the only
remaining way in or out of the building.

The girls looked at each other and nodded.

* * *

Zerplotty awoke from the best nights rest he had since his inception as the
plot. Stretching, he walking around his metaphysical apartment. Today was going
to be a good day. Checking out how things were turning out, he looked down at
his little story resting in it's crib and reeled back in horror.

"What are those Magical Girls doing? This wasn't supposed to happen!" He

AnFourthy, woken by his frightened cry, posed a question, "What's the matter,

Zerplotty only cowered in the corner. "Must stop this... Must stop this..." he
kept repeating.

* * *

The carnage was complete; gruesome beyond anything the world has ever seen. None
had escaped. Not an inch was left uncovered. Brains, bones, cartilage,
intestines, testicles, feathers, skin, feces, teeth, tentacles, hair, eyes,
little squiggly bits only perhaps identifiable to a true medical professional.
And blood. Everywhere blood. It caked the walls, it drip dropped from the
ceiling, and on the ground, it had risen into a shallow pool. Beyond all that
was the smell. Death had a unique scent. The room smelled of copper. Copper and
raw meat. It filled the room with an overpowering stench.

A lone, shapely rear drifted into Aika’s boot like a paper sailboat hitting the
side of a bathtub. She kicked it away, sending a spray of red in its wake.
Hitting the wall with a wet *smack*, it gradually slid down until it was
floating in the vast sea of death once again.

Aika and Becky smiled at each other. The cast list had been exponentially
shortened, to their great and perverted satisfaction.

"Who's left?" Becky asked as she and Aika sorted out the body parts.

Aika paused from scraping squid guts off the carpet and pulled out the mile high
stack of Data Files cleverly compacted into her backpack. She sorted through
them carefully. "Let's see this looks like Chuthlu bits. So far, we've killed
the Orochi, the Orochi hybrid, the other Orochi hybrid, a cardboard cut-out
depicting the Orochi, the Orochi trading card set, seventy-four crates of Orochi
plushies, the book "The Orochi and Me", a box of Orochi flavored candy, the
Orochi line of ladies lingerie, an Orochi talking alarm-clock, the Orochi on a

"Haven't we killed anything non-Orochi related?"

Aika flipped through the files. After she took out two-hundred sheets of Orochi
material, she announced, "Well, there was Ramsbottom, the Ramsbottom matching
tie and handkerchief, the Ramsbottom commemorative plate collector's series,
Ramsbottom the Coffee Mug, Ramsbottom Earmuffs..."

* * *

Zerplotty powered down another pot of coffee. It was his sixty-third in the past
hour and a half. Things were getting tense in his fifth-dimensional homestead.
His two rapidly twitching eyes were covered in branching red trails of over-
crowded blood veins. Despite waking up only two hours earlier, his chin had
grown beyond stubble to a full-on beard. His entire body shivered uncontrollably
with nerves. However, all that was nothing compared to the migraine. Six hundred
jackhammers hyped up on PCP and pixie stix could not cause a bigger pulsing
throb of pain. Zerplotty was not a happy person in the least.

With the demise of the Girls With Guns Gods, namely Jack and Kasumi, no more
characters could be resurrected to live to fight another day. A replacement God
needed to be found quickly. But time wasn't on his side. Training a God takes
long enough, but with also having to find a suitable candidate, it would swallow
up the better half of a week. With circumstances under their current parameters
a week was a luxury he didn't have.

He needed to stop the girls. Or at least slow them down. At the rate they were
killing characters off, they would be done in a matter of hours. He knew the
destruction of all the characters would mean the end to his own miserable
existence. But how could he stop them? They had already annihilated all of his
sources of evil and wacky, zany mayhem. And was it even his place to kill them?
If a story lost its main characters, what would remain to drive the plot? Would
he not, surely cease to exist as well? His philosophical dilemma circled around
and around with its mega-kawaii dance of chaos in Zerplotty's crumbling mind.

He tossed in the only pitiful idea he could think of in his current state.

* * *

"So this is this residence of the Moon Sisters?" Becky asked Aika.

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Post by Fixer » Tue Apr 22, 2003 7:43 pm

Too long. No more reading this thread if I can remember what it's called.
I don't care who's right, who's wrong, or what you meant to say. Only thing I care about is the Truth. If you have it, good, share it. If not, find it. If you want to argue, do it with someone else.

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Post by Br34d » Tue Apr 22, 2003 8:37 pm

Why do you torture us more with this inane dribble!!
*shakes fist*

Congratz you made my head hurt worse.
"Frat boys and geeks are mortal enemies, like Jedi and sith, and like... spaghetti and milk." - Gimpy

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