Posted: 3/9/2013 7:40:21 PM EDT
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(***Disclaimer*** Probably better if you're drinking, as i am)
The elements that make up living things on earth are not rare in the universe. But for what ever reason here they behave differently than most other places in the universe. Level 1 If you were to pick yourself apart atom by atom you would be a pile of atomic particles none of which ever were alive. Carbon and Oxygen mostly but a mired of others. You could go to any grocery store and purchase all of the ingredients you would need to build an exact replica of yourself, or Elvis. By all logic to me Life is impossible yet i see it everyday. Level 2 Some of these piles of atoms that took it upon themselves to organize and begin moving about and doing various things on earth were completely reliant on other piles of organized atoms to care for and in some cases think for them. Which generally pissed off all of the other piles of atoms who decided to organize and be self sufficient. Level 3 Some organized atomic piles decided organize other atoms of mostly carbon, iron, copper, nickle, and lead in such a way that it can hurl small organized masses of lead and copper at very low speeds speaking in terms of the universe. This began to annoy the collectively reliant piles of organized atoms who are fearful and unable to act singularly and wish to only have certain piles of organized atoms hurl small masses of lead and copper for them when needed . But the piles of organized atoms who were able to act and think alone like to be able to hurl small masses of lead and copper for themselves because if a pile of organized atoms wants small masses of lead and copper hurled right he's gotta do it himself. |
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"It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.” "My young son asked me what happens after we die. I told him we get buried under a bunch of dirt and worms eat our bodies. I guess I should have told him the truth - that most of us go to Hell and burn eternally - but I didn't want to upset him.” |
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My butthole itches. But only the left side, up high. It's pretty deep. Where it itches.
And every atom in your body, with the exception of Hydrogen, was created in mostly the final moments of a stars life. The iron that constitutes a large proportion of your blood, was the element that killed the star that created it. You are made of STAR KILLER. 
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Quoted:
(***Disclaimer*** Probably better if you're drinking, as i am) The elements that make up living things on earth are not rare in the universe. But for what ever reason here they behave differently than most other places in the universe. Level 1 If you were to pick yourself apart atom by atom you would be a pile of atomic particles none of which ever were alive. Carbon and Oxygen mostly but a mired of others. You could go to any grocery store and purchase all of the ingredients you would need to build an exact replica of yourself, or Elvis. By all logic to me Life is impossible yet i see it everyday. Level 2 Some of these piles of atoms that took it upon themselves to organize and begin moving about and doing various things on earth were completely reliant on other piles of organized atoms to care for and in some cases think for them. Which generally pissed off all of the other piles of atoms who decided to organize and be self sufficient. Level 3 Some organized atomic piles decided organize other atoms of mostly carbon, iron, copper, nickle, and lead in such a way that it can hurl small organized masses of lead and copper at very low speeds speaking in terms of the universe. This began to annoy the collectively reliant piles of organized atoms who are fearful and unable to act singularly and wish to only have certain piles of organized atoms hurl small masses of lead and copper for them when needed . But the piles of organized atoms who were able to act and think alone like to be able to hurl small masses of lead and copper for themselves because if a pile of organized atoms wants small masses of lead and copper hurled right he's gotta do it himself. I will be stealing this bit of awesomeness 
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Making a sammich. Duh. |
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Quoted:
Deep Thoughts: I took my kids to Disneyland the other day. Actually, I took them to a burned out warehouse. I said, "Awww... Disneyland burned down." They were crying, but deep down, I think they thought it was a pretty good joke. Jack Handey that's what I'm taliking about. but sinece this isnn't necessarily a hacjk jahandy thread: man who goes to be d with itchy butt, wake up with stinchoy finfer! |
These are the deep thoughts I came in here to read! Not the bullshit the OP posted.
Trying to sound all smart and shit... Quoted:
Deep Thoughts: I took my kids to Disneyland the other day. Actually, I took them to a burned out warehouse. I said, "Awww... Disneyland burned down." They were crying, but deep down, I think they thought it was a pretty good joke. Jack Handey |
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My favorite Jack Handy....
I remember I was hammering on a fence in the west pasture when Papa approached. He was carrying a letter or something in his hand, and he looked worried. I continued to hammer as he came toward me. “Son,” he said, “why are you hammering on that fence? It already has plenty of nails in it.” “Oh, I’m not using nails, Papa,” I replied. “I’m just hammering.” With that, I returned to my hammering. Papa asked me to stop hammering, as he had some news. I did stop hammering, but first I got a couple more hammers in, and this seemed to make Papa mad. “I said, stop hammering!” he yelled. I think he felt bad for yelling at me, especially since it looked like he had bad news. “Look,” he said, “you can hammer later, but first—” Well, I didn’t even wait to hear the rest. As soon as I heard “You can hammer,” that’s what I started doing. Hammering away, happy as an old hammer dog. Papa tried to physically stop me from hammering by inserting a small log of some sort between my hammer and the fence. But I just kept on hammering, ‘cause that’s the way I am when I get that hammer going. Then, he just grabbed my arm and made me stop. “I’m afraid I have some news for you,” he said. I swear, what I did next was not hammering. I was just letting the hammer swing lazily at arm’s length, and maybe it tapped the fence once or twice, but that’s all. That apparently didn’t make any difference whatsoever to Papa, because he just grabbed my hammer out of my hand and flung it across the field. When I saw my hammer flying helplessly through the air like that, I just couldn’t take it. I burst out crying, I admit it. And I ran to the house, as fast as my legs could take me. “Son, come back!” yelled Papa. “What about your hammer?!” But I could not have cared less about hammering at that point. I ran into the house and flung myself onto my bed, pounding the bed with my fists. I pounded and pounded, until finally, behind me, I heard a voice. “As long as you’re pounding, why not use this?” I turned, and it was Papa, holding a brand-new solid-gold hammer. I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and ran to Papa’s outstretched arms. But suddenly, Papa jumped out of the way, and I went sailing through the second-story window behind him. Whenever I hear about a kid getting in trouble with drugs, I like to tell him this story. |