You are worse off from when I talked with you last night… now you are hallucinating.
Hallucinating?
Thanks for the explanation. I thought I was just having bad dreams as a side effect from all the sugar that was in a cake that was given to me.
All night long I would keep waking up from a vision of this strange talking cripple guy dragging himself through the snow around the perimeter of my house licking all the windows. The horror, the horror.
John-O was roaming around your place?
Weird.
Thank you.
Somebody here finally admits that.
Only reason Johno showed up again was UnF spanked him and forbid his diarrhea-tic, wallaby awful Aussie pablum….
Deathray, he was possibly affixing radio target designaters, and sticking laser reflectors to your window panes for surveillance to enable a 24 hours a day attack capability, no matter the weather conditions, when the big guy tires of games and gives the signal. You keep watching the night sky, you might pick out the missile’s exhaust glow as it speeds toward you. Just sit there in the open with your pets, if weather permits, and enjoy the lightshow for awhile. It won’t be cold for very much longer, that is guaranteed, no earthly sunscreen will help against the radiance, nor any root cellar shelter you. Take up smoking if you want, or experiment with other drugs if you want, it’s your life, for a little while at least, better give that frozen venison to your doggie and have your own cookup as a final celebration, ‘cos it’ll all be cooked to ashes soon enough. You give that girl dog and Sasquatch a final wrastle game too, because the femme fatalé librarian put in her latest report, sadly your attractions as a toyboy, and athletic younger lover were in vain. You should send your little blue lollies off to Cederq, he’ll need all the help he can get, ol’ Hillary needs exercise to get ready for the primaries: Hillary – once more for ’24! Does that sound catchy to you? An advertising genius thought that up, just after buying a gen-yoo-wine Hunter masterpiece, the big guy paid for the slogan, wasn’t that good of him? But I digress, you should confer on a secret signal with Cederq, so’s he knows it’s really you when he’s spending big with the spiritualist. Oops, almost forgot, can Sternie have your ashes? He’s thinking of calling his next blade The Hellfire.
Igor, tweren’t me, must’ve been the double-agent librarian, looking for the source of the ‘King of all trolls’ signal, that she tracked back emenating from Deathray’s root cellar. Suss out a long comment I sent to Cederq earlier. How are your cats, nice fluffy coats from the cold weather? They will make good slippers for you or the missus, or a couple of nice soft pistol rugs. With the price of meat nowadays, a hot flame to kill all the diseases the buggers carry, and some sweet ‘n sour sauce, no worries, mate.
I’ll just have The Roadkill Cafe cook ’em up when the SHTF.
The original three Star Wars movies were the best of the bunch, IMHO.
Where did you find that rare Haynes manual for TIE fighters?? It’s been out of print for centuries !!!
Sorry, not a TIE fighter Shade Tree Mechanics Manual after all. Starfighter.
I blame the drugs I’m taking for my flu/sinus infections. That’s my story…
Here ya go, and they’ve even got one for the Millennium Falcon, if yours is laid up:
https://www.amazon.com/Star-Wars-Fighter-Owners-Workshop/dp/1683835271/ref=pd_sbs_3/141-8332423-1550046?pd_rd_w=zCurm&pf_rd_p=0a3ad226-8a77-4898-9a99-63ffeb1aef90&pf_rd_r=48XYT7PA2GE490F0QWV8&pd_rd_r=d2883e50-94f6-4a30-a18c-abdd72e0bdf8&pd_rd_wg=6JUas&pd_rd_i=1683835271&psc=1
You are worse off from when I talked with you last night… now you are hallucinating.
Hallucinating?
Thanks for the explanation. I thought I was just having bad dreams as a side effect from all the sugar that was in a cake that was given to me.
All night long I would keep waking up from a vision of this strange talking cripple guy dragging himself through the snow around the perimeter of my house licking all the windows. The horror, the horror.
John-O was roaming around your place?
Weird.
Thank you.
Somebody here finally admits that.
Only reason Johno showed up again was UnF spanked him and forbid his diarrhea-tic, wallaby awful Aussie pablum….
Deathray, he was possibly affixing radio target designaters, and sticking laser reflectors to your window panes for surveillance to enable a 24 hours a day attack capability, no matter the weather conditions, when the big guy tires of games and gives the signal. You keep watching the night sky, you might pick out the missile’s exhaust glow as it speeds toward you. Just sit there in the open with your pets, if weather permits, and enjoy the lightshow for awhile. It won’t be cold for very much longer, that is guaranteed, no earthly sunscreen will help against the radiance, nor any root cellar shelter you. Take up smoking if you want, or experiment with other drugs if you want, it’s your life, for a little while at least, better give that frozen venison to your doggie and have your own cookup as a final celebration, ‘cos it’ll all be cooked to ashes soon enough. You give that girl dog and Sasquatch a final wrastle game too, because the femme fatalé librarian put in her latest report, sadly your attractions as a toyboy, and athletic younger lover were in vain. You should send your little blue lollies off to Cederq, he’ll need all the help he can get, ol’ Hillary needs exercise to get ready for the primaries: Hillary – once more for ’24! Does that sound catchy to you? An advertising genius thought that up, just after buying a gen-yoo-wine Hunter masterpiece, the big guy paid for the slogan, wasn’t that good of him? But I digress, you should confer on a secret signal with Cederq, so’s he knows it’s really you when he’s spending big with the spiritualist. Oops, almost forgot, can Sternie have your ashes? He’s thinking of calling his next blade The Hellfire.
Igor, tweren’t me, must’ve been the double-agent librarian, looking for the source of the ‘King of all trolls’ signal, that she tracked back emenating from Deathray’s root cellar. Suss out a long comment I sent to Cederq earlier. How are your cats, nice fluffy coats from the cold weather? They will make good slippers for you or the missus, or a couple of nice soft pistol rugs. With the price of meat nowadays, a hot flame to kill all the diseases the buggers carry, and some sweet ‘n sour sauce, no worries, mate.
I’ll just have The Roadkill Cafe cook ’em up when the SHTF.