Posted: 1/10/2005 10:38:22 AM EDT
|
Oh, what sad times are these when passing ruffians can say BANNED at will to old ladies. There is a pestilence upon this land, nothing is sacred. Even those who design and build maglights are under considerable economic stress in this period in history. |
Do you wish for me to say NI to you, old woman? |
|
LOL, do you have that whole movie memorized, or what? Or was it an African swallow that helped the coconut migrate? Clippity Clop, Clippity Clop Now, go cut down a tree with...... A herring! And bring me a shubbery. Before I become the member that says Ne do puff wha con ahhhhhh |
Next question to ask if I go into a toy store and buy my nephew a toy dumptruck can I get him a Tonka toy dump truck  or must the name be never uttered(sp).As a resident of AZ I hate the rotting of the infrastucture of the state of AZ due to the tide of ILLEAGALS. They are a cancer on this country and state.   
|
|
I do believe you're buddy "Garry Owen" just got himself banned ar15.com/forums/topic.html?b=2&f=61&t=145856 |
I doubt he was banned, he probably just took a stand against those that seem to have an inferiority complex. I hope to see EdSr. at SHOT to let him know my feelings on this subject. No sense doing it over the net. 
|
Please include me. I just had a talk with a mod, and have yet to hear back. I'd like to speak to him, too. I'll buy ya'll lunch. This whole thing is completely ridiculous. |
Be carefull writing words that describe certain noises. 
|
I am a Maglite builder. My name is ROGER, the Maglite builder. 
|
|
Behold the Cave of Caer Bannog, where carved in mystic runes upon the very living rock, the last words of Olfin Bedwyr of Rheged make plain the last resting place of the most holy grail. Follow! But! Follow only if ye be men of valour, for the entrance to this cave is guarded by a t_nk so foul, so cruel, that no man yet has fought with it, and lived! Bones of full fifty men lay strewn about it's lair, so brave knights, if you do doubt your courage, or your strength, come no further.. For death awaits you all, with nasty... big..... pointy..... teeth. |
|
Praline: Hello, I wish to register a complaint . . . Hello? Miss? Shopkeeper: What do you mean, miss? Praline: Oh, I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint. Shopkeeper: Sorry, we're closing for lunch. Praline: Never mind that my lad, I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique. Shopkeeper: Oh yes, the Norwegian Blue. What's wrong with it? Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it. It's dead, that's what's wrong with it. Shopkeeper: No, no it's resting, look! Praline: Look my lad, I know a dead parrot when I see one and I'm looking at one right now. Shopkeeper: No, no sir, it's not dead. It's resting. Praline: Resting? Shopkeeper: Yeah, remarkable bird the Norwegian Blue, beautiful plumage, innit? Praline: The plumage don't enter into it -- it's stone dead. Shopkeeper: No, no -- it's just resting. Praline: All right then, if it's resting I'll wake it up. (shouts into cage) Hello Polly! I've got a nice cuttlefish for you when you wake up, Polly Parrot! Shopkeeper: (jogging cage) There it moved. Praline: No he didn't. That was you pushing the cage. Shopkeeper: I did not. Praline: Yes, you did. (takes parrot out of cage, shouts) Hello Polly, Polly (bangs it against counter) Polly Parrot, wake up. Polly. (throws it in the air and lets it fall to the floor) Now that's what I call a dead parrot. Shopkeeper: No, no it's stunned. Praline: Look my lad, I've had just about enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased. And when I bought it not half an hour ago, you assured me that its lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out after a long squawk. Shopkeeper: It's probably pining for the fjords. Praline: Pining for the fjords, what kind of talk is that? Look, why did it fall flat on its back the moment I got it home? Shopkeeper: The Norwegian Blue prefers kipping on its back. Beautiful bird, lovely plumage. Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot, and I discovered that the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been nailed there. Shopkeeper: Well of course it was nailed there. Otherwise it would muscle up to those bars and voom. Praline: Look matey (picks up parrot) this parrot wouldn't voom if I put four thousand volts through it. It's bleeding demised. Shopkeeper: It's not, it's pining. Praline: It's not pining, it's passed on. This parrot is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late parrot. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn't nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies. It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot. Shopkeeper: Well, I'd better replace it then. Praline: (to camera) If you want to get anything done in this country you've got to complain till you're blue in the mouth. Shopkeeper: Sorry guv, we're right out of parrots. Praline: I see. I see. I get the picture. Shopkeeper: I've got a slug. Praline: Does it talk? Shopkeeper: Not really, no. Praline: Well, it's scarcely a replacement, then is it? Shopkeeper: Listen, I'll tell you what, (handing over a card) tell you what, if you go to my brother's pet shop in Bolton he'll replace your parrot for you. Praline: Bolton eh? Shopkeeper: Yeah. Praline: All right. He leaves, holding the parrot. CAPTION: A SIMILAR PET SHOP IN BOLTON, LANCS Close-up of sign on door reading: 'Similar Pet Shops Ltd'. Pull back from sign to see same pet shop. Shopkeeper now has moustache. Praline walks into shop. He looks around with interest, noticing the empty parrot cage still on the floor. Praline: Er, excuse me. This is Bolton, is it? Shopkeeper: No, no it's, er, Ipswich. Praline: (to camera) That's Inter-City Rail for you. (leaves) Man in porter's outfit standing at complaints desk for railways. Praline approaches. Praline: I wish to make a complaint. Porter: I don't have to do this, you know. Praline: I beg your pardon? Porter: I'm a qualified brain surgeon. I only do this because I like being my own boss. Praline: Er, excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn't it? Porter: Oh yeah, it's not easy to pad these out to thirty minutes. Praline: Well I wish to make a complaint. I got on the Bolton train and found myself deposited here in Ipswich. Porter: No, this is Bolton. Praline: (to camera) The pet shop owner's brother was lying. Porter: Well you can't blame British Rail for that. Praline: If this is Bolton, I shall return to the pet shop. CAPTION: 'A LITTLE LATER LTD.' Praline walks into the shop again. Praline: I understand that this is Bolton. Shopkeeper: Yes. Praline: Well, you told me it was Ipswich. Shopkeeper: It was a pun. Praline: A pun? Shopkeeper: No, no, not a pun, no. What's the other thing which reads the same backwards as forwards? Praline: A palindrome? Shopkeeper: Yes, yes. Praline: It's not a palindrome. The palindrome of Bolton would be Notlob. It don't work. Shopkeeper: Look, what do you want? Praline: No I'm sorry, I'm not prepared to pursue my line of enquiry any further as I think this is getting too silly. Colonel: (coming in) Quite agree. Quite agree. Silly. Silly . . . silly. Right get on with it. Get on with it. |
I thought that was your Glock impression for a second there... |
|
Look, I came here for an argument! |
OK, I about spit beer all over the place (hey, it's 5 o clock somewhere). What movie is that from? |
No you didn't....................... |
|
Never knew there was a tv series. Damn, all that time wasted watching Dr Who. Can you buy the episodes? Thanks for the info |
|
|
In the bleak days of nineteen-eighty-three, as England languished in the doldrums of a ruinous monetarist policy, the good and loyal men of the Permanent Assurance Company-- a once-proud family firm, recently fallen in hard times-- strained under the yoke of their oppressive new corporate management. Pushed beyond the bounds of decent and reasonable victimisation, the aged retainers take their destiny in their own hands and-- Mutiny! And so, the Crimson Permanent Assurance was launched upon the high seas of international finance. There it lay, the prize they sought, the richest jewel in the crown of the I.M.F.: a financial district swollen with multi-nationals, conglomerates, and fat, bloated merchant banks. Hidden behind the faceless, towering canyons of glass, the world of high finance sat smug and self-satisfied as their future, in the shape of their past, slipped silently through the streets, returning to wreak a terrible revenge. Adopting, adapting, and improving traditional business practises, the Permanent Assurance puts into motion an audacious and totally unsuspected takeover bid. And so, heartened by their initial success, the desperate and reasonably violent men of the Permanent Assurance battled on... until, as the sun set slowly in the west, the outstanding return on their bold business venture became apparent: the once-proud financial giants lay in ruins, their assets stripped, their policies in tatters. |
I'm way out in the west valley, Mohave Valley that is. Thanks for the offer though. Anybody set'n up any get togethers for Vegas? |