Nothing to see here... move along, you lot... move along...
--
alt.usenet.kooks
"We are arrant knaves all, believe none of us."
Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1 [129]
Hammer of Thor: February 2007. Pierre Salinger Memorial Hook,
Line & Sinker: September 2005, April 2006, January 2007.
Vescere puter subgalia meis.
"Now I know what it is. Now I know what it means when an
alt.usenet.kook x-post shows up."
AOK in news:ermdlu$nli$1@registered.motzarella.org
Kadaitcha Man wrote:
> Nothing to see here... move along, you lot... move along...
<there has to be something... I'm gonna wait>
On Wed, 4 Apr 2007 20:46:18 -0700, "Damian" <nospam@rabid-dog.net>
wrote:
>Kadaitcha Man wrote:
>> Nothing to see here... move along, you lot... move along...
>
><there has to be something... I'm gonna wait>
<sets up beer stand>
Beer sir?
2 quataloos.
--
K. A. Cannon
kcannon at insurgent dot org
(change the orgy to org to reply)
http://www.insurgent.org/index-chock1.html
#9 People ruining UseNet lits.
#6 Top *******s on the Net lits.
#5 Most hated Usenetizens of all time
K. A. Cannon <kcannon@insurgent.orgy> Thou pasty-faced scurvy-valiant
ass. Thou monotonic notable-contempt. Thou wenching smiling pickthanks.
Thou rancid fiddler. Ye pined:
> On Wed, 4 Apr 2007 20:46:18 -0700, "Damian" <nospam@rabid-dog.net>
> wrote:
>
>> Kadaitcha Man wrote:
>>> Nothing to see here... move along, you lot... move along...
>>
>> <there has to be something... I'm gonna wait>
>
> <sets up beer stand>
>
> Beer sir?
> 2 quataloos.
lol
--
alt.usenet.kooks
"We are arrant knaves all, believe none of us."
Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1 [129]
Hammer of Thor: February 2007. Pierre Salinger Memorial Hook,
Line & Sinker: September 2005, April 2006, January 2007.
Vescere puter subgalia meis.
"Now I know what it is. Now I know what it means when an
alt.usenet.kook x-post shows up."
AOK in news:ermdlu$nli$1@registered.motzarella.org
K. A. Cannon wrote:
> On Wed, 4 Apr 2007 20:46:18 -0700, "Damian" <nospam@rabid-dog.net>
> wrote:
>
>> Kadaitcha Man wrote:
>>> Nothing to see here... move along, you lot... move along...
>>
>> <there has to be something... I'm gonna wait>
>
> <sets up beer stand>
>
> Beer sir?
> 2 quataloos.
Quark? Is that you? That's pretty cheap for you, but I'll have one. Thanks!
Kadaitcha Man <nntp.news@gmail.com>, the buck-toothed-leper and
tip-tilted anal explorer who likes disgusting tapioca tube tugging with
sheep, and whose partner is a fast-woman with a malignant na-ner na-ner
pudding, wrote in <qu8kp.k8j.17.1@news.alt.net>:
> Nothing to see here... move along, you lot... move along...
>
I'll put my cock away then.
--
For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down
in words with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived
it. There is, however, a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy which
are not thoughts, and to which as yet I have found it absolutely
impossible to adapt to language. These fancies arise in the soul, alas
how rarely. Only at epochs of most intense tranquillity, when the
bodily and mental health are in perfection. And at those weird points
of time, where the confines of the waking world blend with the world of
dreams. And so I captured this fancy, where all that we see, or seem,
is but a dream within a dream.
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