Elizabeth Lori Jim Think?

dennis  - wait for it!
delusions of goathood
pick a rant,
at your own risk:
weiners poetry #1
limericks grandma
bukowski poetry #2
sisson c.o.d.
tabasco sexcon
peck-o-pyro fallston
balloon #1 balloon #2
balloon #3 balloon #4
goatass duckaroo
revelations #1 revelations #2
@&*()#$%@$% stilgar #1
stilgar #2 failure #1
failure #2 jeezusjim
duck poop what...?


just a brief note to test this address, since the goat ass message came back undelivered.

kebab & calculator: the bar on 'the young ones'
gulp & blow : taco stand on the 'simpson's'
dog's & burgs: 'reid flemming'
sip & bite a real diner in canton (maryland) where i once ordered french fries & a pabst for breakfast.
frank & stein: a place of my own imagining. i require your assistance in creating a logo, you know the monster climbing out of an elaborate german beer mug, or a weiner dog climbing out. you know, franks... hot dogs...weiner dogs.

thanks for the brews

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poetry month?

since when?
why wasn't i informed?
damn it, this english degree really isn't worth a shit. those bastards at the english dept. could have reminded me. but no it's all just wam, bam, thank you mister, thanks for the money, here's your smeggin' diploma, now get your goat ass out & make room for the next.

rant ended, if you're interested in poetry of the bawdy type there's only one word you need to know, bukowski, Bukowski, BUKOWSKI.

I'd hoped to quote you some here but all my buk books are in fallston. I have to leave them there, because when I have them here, that's all I read. literally. I read through the entire collection & then turn around and pick up the first one and start again. nothing else ever gets read. he's kinda hard to find in maryland, I once had rich u.p.s me 16 volumes from "the tattered cover" when he lived in colorado. but ATOMIC BOOKS has a fairly good selection, and actually you can walk to their new location, i'm sure. it's on charles st. south of you, I'll have anna e-mail the exact location to you or you can call them the phone # may have changed since they moved but it used to be 410-625-7955 they can give you directions & i'm sure the number is in the book. they may even have a web sight. it's a great book store even if you don't like buk, jimbo scored the 1st edition of the bart man comic there. {it always comes back to the simpsons doesn't it?} they have a small but excellent sci-fi section, and numerous oddities you will never find in regular book stores, even good ones.

bukowski for beginners, i recommend you start with one of these:
The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over the Hills
Love is a Dog from HELL
Dangling in the Tournefortia
You Get So Alone at Times It just Makes Sense

if you prefer short stories:
Tales of Ordinary Madness (originally titled notes,erections,ejaculations and tales of ordinary madness)
The Most Beautiful woman in Town

i recommend you leave the novels until you've broken in a little. as a further incentive, buy a bukowski book, any bukowski book, & if you don't like it, i'll buy it from you, at the cover price, even though i already have all of them. can't top that recommendation. then of course there is the greatest drinking movie of all times BARFLY. a chronicle of his early life.

"there must be pain in order to write poetry, even if it's only perceived pain... in fact perceived pain is best" -bukowski, SCREAMS FROM A BALCONY the collected letters of:

"finally the great bartender will lean forward - white and pure and mystic, to tell you you've had enough; just when you feel like you're getting started" -buk, Screams..

"... and i lift the drink, pour the drink, the only thing to do; and miller asks me to worry about the source of inspiration? i can't look at anything, really without wanting to tear myself apart. drinking is a temporary form of suicide where in i am allowed to kill myself and then return to life again. drinking is just a little paste to hold on my arms and my legs and my pecker and my head and the rest. writing is only a sheet of paper. I am something that walks around and looks out of a window." -buk, SCREAMS...

I knew i had something of his around here to quote, i better stop, i can go on about bukowski MORE than the simpsons, bukowski is real, real, me. misanthropic, angry, ugly, drunk, but something else too. something soul full,something true on a very gut level.

Poem on the Self Immolation of Buddhist Monks
you watchers,
you intellectuals
and if you say they feel nothing.
are they guaranteed this?
you with your meaningful
I have seen the red rose burning
and this means more.

(from memory so i'm sure i fucked it up)

sorry bev, can't bear to put light hearted limericks on the same page.


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there was a young lady of exeter
so pretty that men craned their necks at her
one was so brave
as to take out and wave
the distinguishing mark of his sex at her.

a lady while dining at crew
found an elephat's wang in her stew
said the waiter don't shout
and don't wave it about
or the others will all want one too

there was a young sailor from brighton
who remarked to his girl, you're a tight one
she replied apon my soul
you're in the wrong hole;
there's plenty of room in the right one

there was a young girl from aberystwyth
took some grain to the mill to get grist with
the millers son jack
laid her flat on her back
and united the organs they pissed with

es giebt ein arbeiter von Tinz
er schlaft mit ein madel von lintz
sie sagt, halt sein' plummen,
ich hore mann kommen.
jacht, jacht, sagt der plummer, ich binz.

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oooH! you wanted original limericks that's harder

while grinding away on a machine
he thought to jerk off would be keen,
he snagged more than a hair
lost one of his pair
that's the last of that nut that's he's seen.

i'm sorry i'm going to miss the rest of this week, it promises to be a good one. but my grand mother died today so i'll be spending the next few days in fallston, and i'll be out of the loop here. -don't stop sending those limericks though, I can't wait to see 'em when i get back. I thank you in advance for any thoughts you may have, but no need to clog the internet with a bunch of condolences. she was a fine, frail old woman, who lived long enough for my sister to make a great-grandmother out of her. she saw the shining clean "next generation" Mezan exactly a week ago. so it's true never does one door close, but that another opens.

note to bev & jimbo, sorry but i won't be able to come out & play this weekend. but never to miss an opportunity-

my grandmother's dead.
(no longer out of her head.)
she died this morning.
(with out too much warning.)
and that's all that needs to be said.

- red

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on the same subject I offer this one titled FREEDOM, from Bukowski's collection, The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over the Hills

he drank wine all night the night of the
28th. and he kept thinking of her:
the way she walked and talked and loved
the way she told him things that seemed true
but were not, and he knew the color of each
of her dresses
and her shoes--he knew the stock and curve of
each heel
as well as the leg shaped by it.

and she was out again when he came home, and
she'd come back with that special stink again,
and she did
she came in at 3 a.m. in the morning
filthy like a dung eating swine
he took out the butcher knife
and she screamed
backing into the rooming house wall
still pretty somehow
in spite of love's reek
and he finished the glass of wine.

that yellow dress
his favorite
and she screamed again.

and he took up the knife
and unhooked his belt
and tore away the cloth before her
and cut off his balls.

and carried them in his hands
like apricots
and flushed them down the
tiolet bowl
and she kept screaming
as the room became red


and he sat there holding 3 towels
between his legs
not caring now whether she left or
wore yellow or green or
anything at all.

and one hand holding and one hand
lifting he poured
another wine.

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once was a drunker named red
who ate peanut butter in bed
a blockage occurred
when it petrified his turd
and killed the poor mother dead.

Nomad went searching for it's mother
roaming from one galaxy to another
said kirk "this shit ain't right,
stop causing such a fright
i don't care how much was taken from the other"


at lunch a man at his leisure
engaged in mechanical pleasure
but he got too damn close
had an accident quite gross
that resulted in pain beyond measure

he lost one nut on the floor
he scooped up a handful of gore
and with valor quite rare
he stapled his tear
and said i won't do that anymore

alas the staples grew rusty
and his scrotum grew more & more crusty
and so with a grin
he checked him self in
and begged please fix it, it disgusts me

said the doc, that's a wound i can't relate to
for my money i'd just as soon castrate you,
two strokes of my knife
might save your sorry life
and as a bonus you'd sing soprano like new

doc that idea won't sell
i'd rather die can't you tell
if you snip them i'll holler;
my goat ass you follow?
and i'll save you a seat down in hell

then here's a thought not so galling
what if we thought of installing
two false metal nuts
a plow and some struts
then at least you could still go snow balling

the patient said doc that won't do
don't you know how much i like to screw
so clean up this mess
or i do confess
I'll do the same thing to you

nurse, give this man an anesthetic
this operation is quite theoretic
we'll fashion a pair
out of what's left down there
but alas they'll be only cosmetic

so how did it end,
did his do-dads ever mend?
he's not exactly a conversationalist
but more the "cunning linguist"
if you don't get it then read it again

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sounds like you had quite a busy week end, thanks for the big foot tip.

any word on surviving quantities? (after you guys left, that is) I bet you guys were kicking yourselves in the ass for filling up on hugh sissons swill and then discovering big foot. please tell dave he's my hero. we should bombard sissons web sight with demands for real beer & more hops. I long ago vowed to never drink another of his beers unless it was free.

I was working at a road race-runners not cars, sponsored by the fells point festival. afterwards beer was distributed free to the runners various brewers contributed samples, i found one i liked & struck up a conversation with the guy distributing it. it was a batch of "festival ale" brewed especially for the fells point festival, he claimed by hugh sisson. as i helped them unload the next keg i couldn't help but notice the tag on the keg, and indeed all the kegs said "BAD BEER DO NOT SHIP" when pressed for details, after a few ales, the guys toadie came up with the truth. a batch of IPA had been mistakenly been hopped twice. and was deemed un fit for sale. solution- donate it to the festival as a tax deductible promotional expense. it's the only beer of his i liked, and it met the requisite cost analysis. free beer.

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a comely young dr. segletes
has lately begun to upset us
spending more time with the dead
than at home or in bed
shaking his wang, eric said, "don't forget us"


you're welcome eric, now when do I get my twenty bucks.

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since it seems to be the subject of the week i better kick in my halfpence. (did he say halfpenis?) "no that's what she said afterwards"

for my money theres only one word you need to know in hot sauces...

OH sure, i hear you say "not hot enough" for all you modern yuppy micro-brewed hot sauce hammerers, i call bullshit on that, if tabasco habanero ain't hot enough you've ruint yer tongue lickin' rusty nails, broken glass, or a festering orifice. (tim, how come i can't get the little ~ symbol over top of the n where it belongs?) it ain't insanity, but tabasco habanero is hot, hot,HOT.

Tabasco garlic is a delightful, whimsical and yet serious hot sauce ideal for italian creations, shrimp, pizza, charred goat, what ever, and the garlic doesn't have that acrid cheap, mcCormic garlic powder, after taste. (apologies to tims mom, but garlic powder tastes NOTHING like real garlic)

Tabasco Jalepeno is a bit mild for most (of my) uses, it's more of a jalepeno flavor than heat, it makes an excellent breakfast hot sauce. great on eggs, breakfast-pizza, what ever you're accompanying that breakfast stout with. just strong enough to cut through the fuzz & scum layer on that morning after tongue. (hey, I should write ad copy for these people)

and of course that old stand by: regular old Tabasco it self. also acceptable for a.m. use, this one really show cases that signature Tabasco taste. there's definitely a "house flavor" to Tabasco that ya either like or don't. i love it. in moderation the flavor shines and adds character. as you increase the dosage it gives way to heat. and that's another benefit over many of your new fangled hot sauces: control. take your melindas, your daves, and right out of the bottle a tiny drop is instant searing heat. not so with Tabasco a little is hot, but the effect is cumulative add more & you can dial it up as far as you want. and although it's not an issue to some of you goats it's cheap! $1.19 gets you the big bottle 5oz from the Tabasco general store. (odd since the little bottle 2oz costs about that in a grocery store)

simplicity, ingredients: vinegar,fermented tabasco peppers,salt

other uses:
use tabasco to prevent cats from scratching wood work or other solid objects (bev) just rub a dab on the area to be protected; cats hate the smell.

spicy pop corn: a few drops in the cooking oil prior to popping, mmmm.

a cola volcano: mix 2 drops tabasco in a glass of cola, add ice & stand back. (no i haven't tried it with beer...yet.)


McIlhenny sell over 100 million bottles of tabasco a year including over 1million 1gal sized bottles.

tabasco is labeled in 19 languages & shipped to more than 100 countries

and for our right wing element in 1988 after receiving the republican nomination for president george busch handed out personalized bottles of tabasco to all who dined with him at Arnauds in NY.

call 1-800-634-9599 for a free tabasco catalog no. there's no fucking you goat asses.


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OOOOoOOOOoooooooooh, yeeeeee0eaaaaaaaaaaa,
well said richbo,
real fucking, i just picked the cunt out my garden, sliced it and ate it.
no words, it exceeds my vocal appreciation
yes & goat damned deed

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ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaa.
real garlic.
well said jimbo.
real, fucking i just dug the shit out of my garden, sliced it, & ate it.
no words,
it exceeds my vocal appreciation.
yes and goddamned deed.

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hey, i just got back from a race registration. you know where you sign up runners for tomorrow's race. Preakness race, sign up was at the sheraton inner harbor (they are one of the major sponsors) Preakness is big shit in balto so the race attracts big sponsors, media coverage, (i should be on all 3 stations tonight, any goats see me?) and a lot of participants. even goats who usually don't come out for the typical 5k around the park every sunday, come out for a race like this.

so i'm asshole deep in people waving 20dollar bills and applications at me (mildly buzzed, miller is also a sponsor, and since it was free....) some bearded goat steps up & says: "hey denny, remember me?" (I have no clue) "oh shit." i say (hoping it'll come to me) "how you been"

well out it comes- the entire tragedy. wife, kids, two cars, a mortgage, works for an insurance co. hates his job, trying to buy a boat ad-nauseum, he's fallen for every, EVERY fucking one of the traps. they've got him----balls, in a vice, i thought they took the dick, i guess it's still hooked on but now it shoots too quick-----and the poor sap well god help him...never mind. the point is i take his application & get his name off of it. turns out it's jim stanley. fallston high school grad a class or two behind me. i'm busy, i slip him a free pass into the pre race dinner ( a ten $ value) pass him our two empty pitchers & tell him not to come back with out them full. the beer's free if you have a dinner pass, but the sheraton is being responsible, and their staff are serving the beer to you, instead of the usual free beer melee. (can't blame them, tv cameras everywhere) registration goes on, i'm waiting on my beer, finally i send one of the volunteers in (a budding but mindless young freshman from JHU with big tits and confused beliefs concerning ballistics) with explicit instructions not to return with out beer. she is successful. she is a college freshman after all. i continue to employ her in this fashion diligently through out the evening. hell i've even promised her she can shoot the starting gun at the race tomorrow.

about 8:00pm registration is almost over, the dinner is winding down, i've heard enough from my volunteer, this mindless "international studies" major with no understanding of our need for assault weapons to be freely at our disposal. as i can stand, despite her obvious physical charms (both of them) and by now, I've given up all hope of ever seeing jim stanley again, even if i should live to be one hundred. and who cares, with my volunteer responding to my boyish good looks, charm, knowledge of handguns, and the mistaken belief that i actually have some authority at this event; I've assured a steady supply of beer with out him. But i'm musing over a broken trust. I've always felt a special bond with Fallston, and all those who live there. it's my home town, my drivers license still has my fallston address on it, i hope it will untill the day i die. I yearn for the mother land. but not the real fallston, but the fallston as it was. as i remember it. as i want it to always be. in short a mythical place. with mythical people, hobbits, gholas, under aged drinkers, man-goats, goat-girls, with great big udders, friends all. if you ever lived in fallston or even traveled through fallston, I"M YOUR FRIEND.

so i assume it's the same with all other fallstonians i assume we look out for each other. i ASSUME IF I SEND A FELLOW FALLSTONIAN AFTER FREE BEER HE WILL NOT LET ME DOWN. it appears i was wrong. just as i'm voicing these feelings in no uncertain, and quite vulgar terms to my co-workers, then just as suddenly jim stanley's there, in front of me: Two full brimming pitchers in hand, glistening. he's beaming, and even though it's taken him an hour and a half, I'm beaming, the cunt, and all my co workers are beaming. the boss is NOT beaming. I ignore him. even though he's paying me to drink free beer.

which (eventually) brings us to the point of the story (hey,relax, getting there's half the fun.) we discuss beer-the common denominator among boys our age. (yes i said boys specifically. you look at your self your way,and i'll look at my self my way) so in discussing miller beer naturally i use the term Piss. it being preakness, and i recalling a quote from one of eric's e-mails i believe i said "put it back in the horse." this brings to his (jim stanley's) mind, a story about bill wheeler (a sobriety no penis havin' or usin' little hemonculus of a guy) who after some goading chilled a glass of his own urine and passed it off to John Hagan as beer. who, being john hagan, was more than drunk enough to drink it. to the mutual delight of all present. Jim Stanley seemed suprised that i wasn't there to witness the event. (after all it was a beer party in fallston, why weren't you there?) I suggested you guys names and he asked to be remembered to each of you and seemed sure that any of you may be able to authenticate the story, well any memories? any truth? i was lucky enough to regail him with the john hagan, ocean city stomach pump episode prior to sending him back for another pitcher. but alas the hotel had closed down the free beer. I returned my attentions to the afore mentioned freshman. ooops, sophomore, she'd just finished finals today. how interesting. how strangely interesting......ever been to FALLSTON baby? what? your from San Antonio? hell that ain't even in HARFORD COUNTY!


coincidentally I ran into richie scarbath (another one of your class mates i believe) at last weeks race, grew up to be quite a spoiled little git. turns out he's dating the bosses daughter.

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hell we aint gonna have to worry about making fridges & freezers I know where there's tons of 'em (we've got pounds of it lying around the back) the problem's gonna be electricity. ya think? maybe not. I know where there's a gas (propane) powered refrigerators and a couple gas air conditioners. and hell there's enough gas in tanks at the fallston harletane gas store to last me a life time, and no i ain't worried about future generations, or re-populating the planet, or restoring mankind to it's previous level of technology

I quote one of the greatest films of my life "like every one was dead eh, and all of the bowling alleys were closed. so i spent most of my time looking for beers" -strange brew

o.k. now i'll quote a great book on the same topic. "if every one were dead i'd go up in a helicopter and throw microwave ovens down on taco bells an shit" -generation x

this really is my greatest fantasy, even more so than lottery fantasys. the i'm the last guy alive fantasy. really i think about it almost every day. and yea i've got an idea what it says about me. but ya gotta admit my idea was more practical than building your own freezer, or hoping dave towson is also the last guy on earth with me. hell i've even got the route to chico mapped out for when the time comes. we don't need no stinkin' home brews.

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well yes obviously. i didn't mean to detract from the achievement of building a freezer a truley awesome feat. I just mean to say that when the time comes i'm gonna be doing better things than building freezers. but if you wanna hang around with steve and dave after the apocalypse, that's fine with me. just keep an eye out for flying microwave ovens.

personally i can see little need for engineers after the world comes to an end. even less so than now. like i said i have no interest in returning man to his past glorys. just my own entertainment. and to that end; if you get to take only one "expert" with you i want a chemist or microbiologist. my thinking goes thusly. every thing is out there, freezers, gas, cans of tomato sauce, enough for my life time any way. the real concern is perishables specifically pizza. assume the powers out. we're living on generators powered by scavenged gasoline. propane appliances & shit. there's tons of food in stores everywhere, cans, plants growin' cows bein' slaughtered in the abattoir by tim, but damn it two of the three ingredients in pizza won't keep. the crust, sure there's tons of flour in stores but yeast goes bad quick, we need a science geek willing to keep a culture going so we can leaven our pizza crusts. sure i COULD do it, i've kept brewers yeast cultures going over years. but if the world's ended i'm gonna be a busy guy, i need a science guy who's interested in keeping my yeast alive. same with cheese. all the cheese is gonna go bad fast once the electric's out. to make cheese i know you need the enzyme rennin. it comes from a calf's stomach, in nature it's designed to break down the cows (mothers) milk so the calf can digest it. same thing in making cheese it breaks down lactose. but how do you get it out of the calf? how much do you use? what is the cheese making process? my chemist guy will know these things. or know how to initiate the process after reading it in a book. hell even a red head can make the tomato sauce but i'll put my science guy on it just the same.

should have been a separate message:
interesting home made freezer story: one of the deals is at lutz's was if you buy an appliance, after it's delivered we take away the old one. much rarer than you may think. but one day these old ladys come in and buy gods own freezer 27cu feet. and want to know will we take away the old one, sure says the salesman. no problem. "it's a big one" the old ladys warn. no problem these boys can handle it. they look at me doubtfully. not uncommon; i don't really look capable of hauling things bigger than me, people picture a retired football player delivering monster freezers. the old ladys are unimpressed they want it in writing that we will haul away the old one. no problem the salesman puts it in the contract, he'd put his mother in the contract if he had to.

we get to the house and the old ladys want us to come look at the old freezer first. we go into the basement and the lady leads us back into the corner to what appears to be the bathroom.
"well what do you think?"
"where is it?" I say.
"right there" she says.
"what in here?" I say. opening the bathroom door. i walk in and suddenly I realize this is the freezer, not a bathroom. some goat ass built it right into the corner of the house floor to ceiling. about 5'x5' square on the inside. walls made of plaster and rock wool layers about 3 feet thick. "nope" I say, "can't do it." she stares at me flabber gasted. i give her my best clint eastwood quote "a man's gotta know his limitations" my helper laughs out loud at this, breaking an awkward silence. "i've got a signed contract" she says. "signed by a salesman" i says. my helper is in stitches i send him to the truck to wait. well, to cut the head off this story. no one at the store would believe by description ( i did know how to use a tape measure) so by mid afternoon half the store's staff is in this ladys basement gawking, laughing, swearing & i'm down the road, leaving my boss with the official delivery mans saying. " shit-goddamn i ain't got time for this shit, can't you see i've got appliances to deliver?!" as far as i know it's still there, lurking in wait for the next hapless delivery geek. they lost that sale needless to say.

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tim, it's good of you to be concerned with ammo. very, verrry good. I don't think it's going to be too much of a problem, but we can't afford to be too careful on this one. most other goats will be dead. the more the better; but if WE are alive, than there are others. i'm assuming 10% or less. hoping for less, much less. assume further that the survivors are a statistical representation of society. ie: a good mix. right off the bat half of them are no threat to us, they are lame assed house wifes, old fucks, religious gits, infants, kids, insurance salesmen what ever. that still leaves 5% of the people to deal with. of them half are still no threat, they are just regular gits, no interest in killing. but the other half-survivalists. plan one is simple Extermination ON Sight of every one. I don't think jim is going to go for this, maybe not rich either. although after a couple of hillbillys take pot shots at them they may change their minds.

plan two requires work and continual vigilance. say we've chosen an area to live in I'm set on chico ca. for obvious reasons concerning the beer supply. anna thinks it may be cold there in winter cuz it's northern ca. so we summer in chico, winter in... what? nappa valley? the point is this we secure our perimeter we control the supply of ammo. we don't actually need to HAVE all the ammo just control it. know where it is. we go to valley gun shop or the chico equivalent, we scavenge the best and the coolest for our own use, load up what we want in our own personal hum-vee {i may choose a toyota land cruiser, better gas milage & personal comforts} now once we are out fitted there's still a lot left in the store, good stuff, we don't want it too fall into other goats hands {scorched earth i hear you say} nah, we've decided to live in chico, at least for a while. we don't want random fires all around town. so we hide the remaining guns & ammo. don't need to take it far, a nearby house, a u-store place, anything inconspicuous. anyplace other scavengers won't be interested in. why? assume you are another scavenger. you need a weapon, you go to valley gun shop it's been sacked already SHIT! you exclaim. some bastards beat me here. what do you do. do you start looking for guns in the house next store, or 3 houses down or in the basement of that church? hell no, you move on to the next gun shop. which we've also cleaned out & stashed out of sight & out of mind. how do we find all the gun shops in chico? simple, the yellow pages. I know it's gonna take days to secure an entire towns gun supplies but keep in mind we'll be drunk, and have access to really cool moving equipment. by the time the poor bastard finds a gun he's half way to allemeda and he's not going to turn around and come back to a town he knows some one has all the guns from already.

plan 3 may be the safest but it seems kinda limiting the town we select to live in is one of the islands, virgin, bahamas, one of the florida keys, i don't know if we can get to hawaii. some thing securable, but i can't think of an island with a brewery on it except hawaii.

two things we need to do on the way to chico, or where ever. one: i wanna stop in gary indiana and burn it down. like in "the stand" get the hole fucking oil refineries going stand back and say "now that's a fire!" two: we need to be looking for the second string of a college female volleyball team. for obvious reasons. why the second string? cuz the first string are all a little TOO fit. lean androgynous bitches, possibly lesbians. not that there's any thing wrong with lesbians, i appreciate the life style, the beauty of the spectacle. but it's not a trait you want to encourage in the last 6 or 8 girls on the planet.

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no need to fear being the last guy with me. I wouldn't kill you just to be the last guy on the planet....unless:

i'd have to be sure we were the last ones. i don't know maybe we stole a space shuttle, and when we came back every ones dead, everyone. so it's you and me and jim and tim. we've lived the good life. we are 80 years old. tim & jim both perrished last year in that unfortunate debacle (my idea) when we pushed over the washington monument. in all these years, we've never seen any one so we're sure we're the last two.

one of us has to be the last guy, and i'm not feelin so good. crocodiles bit off my face, i'm missing my left arm from that time we were harvesting marijuana with one of those giant farm combines, and the thing jammed. I should have never reached in there without turning it off first. i've got a bad case of jock itch, that i can only scratch with one hand, I've got gods own hangover and you won't stop singing that infernal "tequila" song. (you know. da da da da da da DA! Tequila!) also i've noticed you've been eye'n up my but cheeks lately, muttering about how long its been. it won't be so bad. i'll trick you real nice. "look over there a female volleyball player, and she's lost her uniform!" I'll say and when you look away WHAM! using tim's old SKS that we've kept around for old times sake I put a 7.62x39 cal. hollow point through the back of your skull. now I'm the last goat.

"oowwch! stop that" you'll say, "and put that damned paint ball gun down. don't you remember? you dropped tim's SKS down the grand canyon last summer on our last beer run to chico. and you were too lazy to go down and get it. not that it mattered. 45 years and no one EVER cleaned the thing. shot about as straight as my bent banana cock. which reminds me, bend on over that rock you senile, old redbird ya look kinda cute in them jeans"

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back up temporarily, haven't made the broad announcement yet, may wait for a visit from dr. tim. all my messages(mine sent to others) lost. all incoming saved folders lost. my words, my words, my beautiful words. no greater loss to an english major. never yet met a computer that does what it's supposed to/or claims it does. don't know how you can stand to work with them all day. will cut diatribe off at this point.

potential week end visit dates include june 26-30 (one weekend prior 2 july 4th) also almost any week end july 18th on. august appears surprisingly open until the very end. will have more specifics after this week end- should have the extended race schedule by then.

just got a call from tembo unit. appears he will visit here tomorrow with an all new frankencomputer including cdgoatrom. not sure if new version of windows/juno will allow me to retain the prestigious title of ghola1 but if any one can do it tim can. tim says no long visits to riches till after 3rd week in july for him, but possibly a weekend trip can be worked in sooner. so i will use alcohol and the power of suggestion re:june 26th weekend if you send your approval. imagine a flurry of alcohol fueled e-mail mayhem to spew forth from the new frankencomputer tomorrow evening; or maybe not, may just play asteroids & missile command with new sound card capabilities REAL LOUD till sun up.

suggestion for next upgrade of dos. when anybody types in, at the prompt "fuck you" it should reply: "same to you" or "and your mother" instead of "invalid directory" or "invalid switch" i can't believe no one's snuck that into the code yet. I KNOW I'm not the only one typing fuck you at the C prompt. come on own up.

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got a nice ring to it- that subject header that is. don't it? sorry you goats... Juno was locked out for days. the "new" version down loaded and was completely FUCKED on frankencomputer2 ("OH FUCK NO" said i when i saw the warning message about a pending juno upgrade) I was right. so i didn't get your mail 'till tim came down and unlocked the boot error.

new paragraph: TIM IS GOAT-oops. i mean TIM IS GOD. ("god is a concept; by which we measure our pain" -john lennon) I never knew lennon played with computers.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: computers are the bane of mankind. yea i love communing with you goats through the net. but god damn if i want to get a degree in c/s or spend 2-5 years learning the shit just to avoid the long distance charge of a phone call. jesus i'll avoid/shorten yet another harangue against programmers and only say this: "let me see you blame this on the hardware. the shit WORKED until some well paid programmer down loaded this shit in to our machine" -me to anna. I'd love to have a video of the next 15 minutes (i am such an ass hole. yea, i know. you already know.)

anyway the purpose of this goatmail is to catch up. tim: in case you were still unsure: Yes. we are serious about the duck trip. when i say: "i am locked and loaded; i mean: i am locked and loaded. hope ALL other goats may join in. I have the general ghestalt for yous guys but anxiously await details. not anxious as in hurry up; but anxious as in hope you'se goats are in. no pressure. just hope. i'm going. either way (is it too soon to talk about the NEXT trip? tim, what's your surgery/healing dates looking like? lets talk july? august? input from all requested cuz i need time/advanced warning to scam leave)

ARRIVAL: rich looking like late, LATE wednesday for us. unless you wanna work on thursday. just say if you do. if you are serious about a python game advise on which one you need. other wise just crash out and leave the door unlocked. we'll quietly sneak in and snooze an see you in the a.m.

LOW POWER: yea I know what you mean about low power rich. was that a westwood studios game? (dune & dune2 are.) they love that power station shit. that was a great story. loved the joke. cuz it took till the end of your message to GET it.

more later


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yes jim, I've had the same thought that dogs must think of us as gods, the food thing, door knobs, and cars. dogs must think of cars like we think of transporters. one minute i'm in baltimore the next i'm in cecil, unimaginable.

i wonder how humans would react to such a god like presence; walking amoung us, out numbering us, feeding us, disciplining us, watching us lick our nuts, sterilizing us at will, transporting us here and there at a whim. I think some of us would turn against these gods and try to kill them(wolves, only more vehement.) and others would suck up for treats, become domesticated and shit on the carpet.

when i thought about it though, i never imagined the idea of sacrament. i always assumed that god was way too cool for that organized religion crap. ritual/superstition. all the same to the big guy. he recognized the priests as the real heretics, old men on a power trip, marketing god like so much flavor of the week, and reaping the profits. but your communion image is as dangerous as it is interesting (were it to come true.) after all communion is the eating of gods flesh. christians are symbolic cannibals, suppose those hounds got serious and went for the real thing?

"body of jim-" amen.

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lori may be a god; but you jim, you are a goat.

in similar musings i was wondering at the similarities of the words "god" and "goat" phonetically they are Verrry close. make the "D" sound and watch (feel) where your tongue strikes your palate, just above your upper teeth. next, make the "T" sound and feel where your tongue strikes, just about the same place. consonants tend to drift. due to lazy speech patterns (avoiding any racial importunities here) and the T to D transformation was quite common prior to the wide spread use of written words. avoiding the vowel shift issue to avoid boring you any further just think of how things might have been different if people enunciated carefully down through the ages and the language hadn't evolved so far. you might hear for instance GOATDAMNIT! or For GOAT'S SAKE! or my grandmothers favourite GOATALMIGHTY! the list is (in valen's name) enless

aside: Goin' Baldi special guest at shore leave this year, along with the hologramatic physician from voyager. july 11-13.

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you "bastards" as Dennis would call you.
"What do you want me to ask them I said?"
"What the FUCK is going on," he said.
"!@#$({)(+++(*^#Q#%&( you red headeded bastard
"I Said"
He said.
Who's driving with Who? he said.
he said, or some such like that there.

Like he said (and he's Drunk and angry) (it's SUNDAY and he's drunk and angry.) The blazer's at our disposal, and as he see's it; it's an answer to all our problems, fish or no fish. "anyone fits any time" is all he says. Across his Pils.(Victory) Goddamn his own eyes. I think all he wants is resoluton. The idea of waiting untill tues or wednes to resolve the who, what, when, is pissing him off. (Goddamn his own eyes.)

It's a big ole truck let's decide soon for his sake. (I'm out of Victory, RSVP SOONEST,

Bev, If you want to join me; you could stay the night @ my house Friday night & go on the train with me the next day. I have a ride to the train on the next morining, since the train leaves Penn station at 5:30 AM.

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Maybe my reading comprehension is bad, but I don't remember him being discribed as a short, fat, water rich git whose mother was a hamster and his father a Packlid.
STILGAR #1 (la la la! SCIFI Dune travesty)

I always imagined Stilgar as a slender and yet oh so manly bearded, long haired. red head. One resplendent in his boyish good looks. A man boy who tread the sand lightly like a god, carried a big ChristKnife in his pants and was able to summon Humongous worms at his merest whim. one who partook both of the spice beer and the bubble water of life with equal vigor, a Mahadi who combined the charms of duncan idaho, with the vigor of groiny hallek, (yea patric stewart as gurney was the casting move of the century) and yet also had the mental agility of thufir, the transience of the kwisatz haderach (the one who could seem to been in many pubs at once) the literary charms harq al adda, and the physical presence of the god emperor him self (there IS a monster of a penis in that monster of a body) not to mention the vigor of duncan idaho #xxxx (help me out here jim, the one who fathered a thousand sons and was slain by an angry fishspeaker matron when found in the carnal company of her 13 year old daughter)

too bad all you lame goats never read the last three books and most of this is wasted on your tiney little intelects. rich was right, you are all a bunch of mindless twonks who play like puddin's.

-Ana, really, oh and it's little known that stilgar was the first to find a way to actually burn sand recreationally, really, it's in the dune encyclopedia.


oh, er....somewhere in the back

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I heard one of the Fedaykin, after glancing at Stilgar, ask, "who invited George Castanza?"
STILGAR #2 (la la la! SCIFI Dune travesty)

-----christ can't any of you goats "compose" a message? must one constantly wade through a morass of repetitive egocentric "replys" and crap just to get to the meat of the matter?

god I'm so glad I'm not on e-mail, don't make me come down here and type this again.

in the words of c.montghomery burns "I hate you all so much. er, don't worry it's my problem i'll deal with it." :-) (look! denny used an email thing) anna's right i am stilgar, why do you thing he's named stilGAR!

why is stilgar wearing long johns?
what's that leather vest he's wearing? looks like he picked it up at the dune goodwill store so he'd have something to wear to the rennisance festival this year. there are no leather bearing animals on dune to be wasted to make clothes out of, except my desert ass. Maybe that's it exactly, after the bodys are rendered at the death stil they are then stripped of their flesh and clothing is made of the dead. Cool! they were a very economical people. In fact I think I remember in the directors cut of the novel the scene where paul wins his ghanima (all of Jamis's posessions) there's that bit about inheriting his coffee service and two lamps with lampshades covered in tatoos. oh yea and instead of water rings they used human teeth as counters. tragicly that part never made it to the big screen.

I agree with jim entirely. based solely on the image of stilgar i hereby condemn the entire project from the mightiest producers to the lowliest key grip. may a pox be apon their underpants and may their bluejeans befoul their own nests whence they burn them for their shoddy workmanship. It's like ragging out old treks we are the faithful, the umma, the chosen. Only our opinions matter. we love to hate it. I can't wait to spend an eternity complaining about this, in fact I hope they digitize most of it, like starship poopers. I heard that rosanne, julia horse teeth roberts, and oprah have key roles in the up coming bored of the rings flick.

ps, eustruction is a verb, not a noun; like kroning or mezaning (to fuck repeatedly with a monster of a penis)

as for my beer selections I belive I chose La fin du monde, and if you don't retract that comment i'm spaming the net with the price you paid for your six aaack

just one more thing lest i have to log back on here

The leeche's kiss, the squid's embrace,
the purient ape's defiling touch:
and do I like the human race?
No, not much.

denn... oops i mean -StilGAAAARRR!
hey does he mean stilgar factorial?

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I want to thank every one for all their calls and cards and emails. I'm fine, really. LET ME SAY THAT AGAIN, I'M FINE. the reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. the reports on the demise of the Honda however have been greatly underestimated. the thing is totaled plus some. to look at the pictures of it you would never think anyone got out alive. so a couple bruises, a concussion and some sissy cuts are a bargain. man does my head hurt. oh, and I lost a good running shoe, I have no idea how. when I got to the hospital it just wasn't there. real memory loss between the saying of "OH FUCK" and the saying of "hey who are you? where am I?" to a very young nurse, WITH COLD HANDS AND PERT LITTLE "ACCOUTRAMENTS."

the real loss is Jim's (well all of ours, but mostly Jim's.) Jim, if you've seen the pictures, those colored speckles on the roadway mixed with the broken glass... those are dune tokens and spice counters. if you look close there's a fedeykin token standing up right by the back tire of the Honda and about 35 spice are on the dashboard. when they cut off my pants at the hospital exactly 4 spice and one thelaxu token fell out of my ass. when I tried to explain what they were I think the doctors and nurses thought I was delirious. I had to explain that no I didn't put them there on purpose. maybe Steve can explain the physics of the dispersal pattern of the debris. note that the spice deck and treachery cards are still together (if wet) in a rubberband there by the yellow line. another curiosity is the soggy, runover, pink mass in the extreme foreground of the first picture. ya can't read it but what it says is "dune" and how it says dune is in expensive perfume counter script.

Yep, the archives. the original dune board, tokens, and what not. Jim, now would be a good time to say: "well those are just things and they can be replaced. the important thing is that our beloved redbird wasn't hurt too bad." It would be a good thing to say except of course it's not true. with avalon hill out of business those were irreplaceable relics. hey Jim, I got an idea, I'll help you steal Rich's old set and you'll barely know the difference... ughn. what can I say? sure I shouldn't have left that stuff in the back seat for 3 weeks. sure I'm a lazy sod for not taking it into the house for safe keeping like I promised. in the words of Bart Simpson: "I can't help but feel partially responsible." HMMM I'm looking for a way to blame Tim here... any help from anyone on that ??? but Jim I blame YOU and your vaunted ambition. if you could have just been happy with the home you had, then you never would have had to remodel and I never would have had to store your stuff for you, and so it never would have been in my car and so when that negligent cunt crossed the center line I would have never scattered your precious belongings all across route 1. oddly enough those pictures were taken just a block from where Keith's wife got wiped out last month. Jim all I can say is: "at least I'm in pain."

well I'm gonna be off from work for a while (tragically) so maybe now's the time to begin the project of an inlaid wooden dune board and all new fancy computer graphics treachery cards...interested? hello? jimbo... are you listening? we could even give you your own territory on the board...? you know you've always been jealous of the "hagan basin." how about "jimbo's kulon?" (translates to: jimbo's desert ass) or "hole in jimbo's rock?" oh here's a good one "jimbo's pasty mass..." "The Jimbo's sink?" hello...jimbo are you out there? conscious?


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the postman FAILURE DELIVERY #2

It was a prank.

sorry. but are we talking weeze of the week, jape of the decade, total git-a-tude, i wish i was graphics boy and could place a picture of holly wearing groucho glasses and mustache right here.


sorry if it was too cruel but by noon I'll aready be making it up to you. any way i'm on line now vengance be yours sayeth the goatgod.

oh yea any of you goats get this stuff on friday night don't go spilling the beans, it's supposed to be waiting for jim at work friday morning.

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Duncan Idaho?
Did you know that when Duncan Idaho wasn't dodging the wrath of the God Emperor, he was working with his dog Blue to solve mysteries. You can see him and his BIG NOSE on Nick Jr. Elizabeth just loves Blue's Clues, and so does Duncan. Hooray, we solved Blue's Clues and discovered where the great Duncan Idaho went after he fled the Honored Matres at the end of Chapterhouse Dune.

p.s. And wasn't he that goofy git who kidnapped Data for his collection? Duncan "Keevis Fagio" Idaho -- yea that's the ticket.

JEEZUSJIM (la la la! SCIFI Dune travesty)


You did not have enough work to do on Tuesday. where did all that shit in my inbox come from? who the fuck started all that?

I have no Idea how to begin to reply so I'll try to limit my self to the Important stuff.

1)I agree with rich. If you ever compare me or duncan or anyone to blues clues boy I will help rich kill you and then we will do something horrible to your remains. I'm not sure what; and we are probably too lame to do much killing or corpse grinding so maybe we'll just come over and give you a good "dutch rub" or a Duetch vunder rube vis out ze lube. so watch it. besides duncan is the guy in rollie pollie ollie who does grandpa's voice.

2) what's lori's word on your "duckability" (sounds like a style of music like rockabilly except from the south) let's concern our selves with the august trip for the moment since sept has a number of problems.

3) lori in korea or no, and house things going on this week end. I'm probably not going to make it up there this weekend. I gotta visit the old man. I'm way on the shit list there. and i need to speak with anna re: relationships. goat help me.

4) colon blow I guess it's too late if we gotta order it on line. can we get it in stores? there's health food stores around here I can look in if you can tell me the name of it. hell no I don't wanna share doseages. I want the complete clean colon but it seemed like the package had 3 bottles in it. does one person drink all three? of course I will re-imburse you at that "unholey" price or you me If it's avilable around here...

5) in the words of reid flemming- "your's is good but mines better, I'll let you copy it for a buck." I liked the goat boys joke. It's funny because it's true. but i liked my racist xenophobic joke as adapted by rich, much better. what was the feminist one?

6) did you send rich the url for the prime minister sight? as a proper host he should vist there. order all missing minister videos and have them Fed Ex'ed in at sos's expense and we all go watch them at the new work office cuz rich's place is too far to walk all the way to the beach each time ya wanna piss in the ocean.

7) oh, i remember why did the feminist cross the road?

to suck my fuckin' dick


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as usual I am totally out of sinc (which is different and yet the same as being out of the sink.) you goats all play email games during the week and here I am 9 beers in to it on a sunday afternoon writing my 4th or 5th weekend email with out any response to my previous weekend whiticisms.

let me take this moment to say "FUCK YOU ALL."

Bukowski was right when he said "it's like writing into a goddamned void. No respose, NO life, NO nothing. I might as well write the stuff, wipe my ass with it and hope something floats back up after I flush."

jimbo, ok, ok, lori's in Korea. I thought that she said: "No way Jose, I'm setteling on a house loan this weekend." i guess her boss said: "no way Joselita" Sorry I picked this weekend to be the first that I didn't visit. although It may have been for the best, since this way you had only ONE child to look after. Ok I spamed the story of me being the goat who Fucked the chimenea. but yesterday I got back pictures. there's a shot just moments prior to the incident that seems to implicate you. yes I admitted to your remark, I even quoted you: "I don't know about that denni--" (crashing sounds.) me: "dohshitFUCKMe." But, BUt BUT this photo clearly shows you contributing to the final moments of my bad judgement. OR so it seems to my "moistend" brain. I intend to let the photo stand on it's own with your own commentary. (your first web site commentary) either way I wish the fucker would have crashed on top of Tim instead of me.

Uh-Oh out of beer. I'm on to "luke warm" big foots. LukeWarm: an adjective describing a beer that was kept between lukes legs the entire way during his trip between Hoth and the Degova system. note: those old X-wings ran hot as hell, and there was no way to turn off the heating mechanism since you were in deep space and couldn't go out, lift the hood and unhook the heater hose. later Xwing2 models employed a climate control system designed by Mitsubishi/empire despite the (apparently)obvious contraversy. Once those rebels got a taste for a fighter that had heat, ac, and a defroster that really worked they were quick to put their politics aside in favor of a windshield they could see out of. and the tem LukeWarm has come down to us today from a long, long, time ago.

(Jimbo, space on your websight for our own particular dictionary/Lexicon? such as LukeWarm defined, Hoist by your own Picard defined, kronehole defined, things that might not lend them selves to CecilSpeak video so well. hey am I a content provider or what?)

ok ok I promised a goad, here it is:
Jimbo, If you come to duck this weekend I challenge you to a duel. mano(s) a mano(s). me and anna vs. you and rich in a best ball round of golf. looser, that is you and rich, buys the winner, Me and anna, dinner at the spot of our choosing. and should the great space goat in the sky decree other wise then we would feed you. (swan harbor and other obvious toursit traps DIS-included) rich, as an incentive I promise to pick a Mexican place when I win. there obviously needs to be some minor gentleman's agreement concerning the MINIMUM ammount of alcohol to be drunk during tournament play. (I'm not about to spend the day sober on a golf course just for a freefuckingdinner) anyway jim, I make this offer without rich's consent since I know how hard it is to get him out & to the course.(sorry rich) If he fails to show you can just buy me beer on the course all day and justice will be "served," justice; as in "just us." NO I will not accept you and joe vs anna and I. but I will accept you and i and anna vs joe.

goad amplified:
she's a woman. and old woman. you looser. hide in cecil. I'm sure it won't be the last time you hide behind your daughter's goat tails to avoid my Wrath.

goad times ten (G x 10)
Ok If you don't hate me enough yet you will. I was wrong. "christmas in july" was not las weekend. It was this weekend. yesterday anna nad I swilled two pitchers of dopplebock and not a few glasses of the pils, we had a geat time, so much so that anna puked. don't you wish you had puked instead of her? then golf with me you, you not puking at teh bbc bitch. anna is twice the manthat you are. gotta go, out o this foot.

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jesus h fucking goat.

I got 8, count 'em 8.
8 fucking messages in my in box and what do they say to me? nothing. less than nothing. ok ok they say this: dune rules are on the net AND my friends have nothing to do at work but play. (yes i am bitter and derisive but not drunk enough for a rant, maybe i'll work on that.)

if you look hard, and read between the lines of all the messages you may be able to glean this:

(ok I'm moving on to a big foot but it's proably too late for it to do any good. have i mentioned lately that I hate you/us all so much.)

1)NO One will take any kind of initiative to make september happen. end result? we all end up visiting in oct and looking at pictures of pascalini catching the biggest post hurricane waves ever to hit NC in 151 years.

2)tim reads/skims his e-mail at work in between tasks in too big of a hurry. (or he'd never miss the iec image) is he doing real work or is he just peeking at email between www.hackerswithtits and www.assesdrippingcome ?

3)jim is a closet Angela Lansbury fan.

4)tim will at some point during the 4th quarter of 2000 visit the east coast. now there's a surprise! not that he'd actually offer up any concrete clues as to WHEN or to which fucking state in the original 13 in the union he might dighn to land/lavish in. tim could you be a little more coy? I'm reminded of the opening scenes of branagh's henry the 5th (after the prologue) where branaugh plays shadowy/mysterious/faceless persona for about 15 minutes only to reveal that SUPRISE: it's ken playing the main guy in the movie. think I'll email Harriett and see when and where he's coming (ga' zing)

(oh man did that bigfoot disapeare or what? next..,)

5)my friends worSHIP me as a god, and long to suckle at my shipTITs (ain't gonna' happen) {any body get this one but jim?}

6)rich has a problem keeping beer in the house. cause: unknown. (twilight zone music in the background)

7) there are tits of various sizes, ages, shapes, colors, and availabiltys on some beaches in the U.S. but all anyone's doing is looking. the last documented act that was even vaguely participatory amoung this group was in 1996 when anna's left boob flopped out after catching a wave and I pointed and said HEY! old woman! and she replaced the boob her self with out incident.

8) people like to drink

9)Hybuscus nostrom is easily damaged by frost. Tim has moved to california to combat this problem.

10) people like to drink in duck on thanksgiving but LOTS of other people make it difficult cuz they are all goat fucking pigs with edipus complexes who routinely clog the highways on this weekend in a vain attempt to get home to pig fuck their mothers.

11) there seems to be some confusion about what's good taste in cocking some one. I would say it's not only a function of the goat GETTING cocked, but even more a function of the goats DOING the cocking. example: one day in my last visit to duck I engaged in a standard 13-14 hour binge. say 10am to 1 pm. at about 10:30 the house went quiet and I chose to continue un aided and alone. there was some doubt about the ammount of coors light left so rich said "drink those corona's." which I (in my advanced and highly enlightend state) interpreted to mean "Drink ALL those corona's." I tried. consuming a nasty fucking skull splitter along the way and some of a shitty fucking Altbier eric left there eons ago. result: me passed out sleeping on the floor in the little space between the bar and the cabnets wraped in a vinyl pool table cover. not only was I last man to drop, and largest drinker of the day by far, but also first man awake. here's a classic opportunity for me to be added to the book but no one is man enough to hang, to do the deed, to photo the dead. so next time you lame dogs are sifting through the book and noting the unbalance of goats, ask not what I can do to avoid being cocked? but what can I do to cock other goats.

12) jim can't take a hint that he left a cooler full of empty corona bottles in the middle of rich's other wise pristine living room. the maggots have consumed the squished lime rindes in the bottom of the bottles and are moving into the adult phase in order to better consume the putrifying tuna flesh that malodorusly contributes to the festering ecosystem that has evolved inside the afore mentioned cooler.

12) I'm the only one man enough or vocabularilarly challanged enough to put the word fuck in the subject line and in the first sentence of my messages.

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god damn I can smell the bean an seafood chowder farts from here, riding on all the beer as a carrier wave JosephHKraft! and they only smell good to yourself you rotten dog. jesus, I'm glad I'm not sharing an office with you.

I maintain that if you are hauling a dog and beer to cecil county and they both need to be on ice one cooler is all that is needed. i point out the fishing cooler precedent ie: you go fishing with a coolerfullabeer that is One cooler. you start to fish. you start to drink. beers come out of the catch a fish
where's it go?
in the cooler
so as the day progresses the ratio of beers to dead fish in the cooler is constantly in flux
if you are lucky
and thirsty
and you are certainly going to be one or the other dead fish and beer in the same cooler with the beer means it's ok to have dead dog in the same cooler with the beer

what are all you manly carnivores being so squeemish about? you ever have a ham sandwich in the same cooler as your beer? it's just a filthy dead swine. never been duck huntin and throwed in a mallard drake or two? shees.. ya, ice one dog and you are marked for life. ya girly girls

Q: How many goat-boys does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Ten. One to hold the bulb, and nine to drink until the room starts spinning around.

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