So. Those Islamic terrorists, they’re a pretty lousy bunch, eh what?
I mean, seriously — why so tense?
And before you even go there, remember: it’s a dry heat.
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Trapped in a world that they never made?
Hey, buster, you’re not supposed to be here on the weekend.
I think they just need a cold beer.
What’s that you say? No shit? Well what kind of idiot makes a rule like that in a fucking desert?
Jeff Goldstein, huh? Sounds somewhat familiar.
I remember a couple months ago when someone named Vercengetorix commented and everyone was all like “Vercster!!” and “Vercman!!!” and “Hey everybody, it’s the Vercmeister!!!” And the Vercengetorix guy was all like “Hey everybody it’s time to rock and ROLL!!! Let’s get this party goin ON!!!!” And he commented maybe for a day or so and then he went away. This thread is kinda more subdued, is all I’m saying.
This is like … a Norman Rockwell moment.
So hard done by.
Jeff, Jeff, I’ve been telling you and telling you: you can not leave single malt out on the counters overnight. It absolutely attracts these creatures, and they come crawling out of the woodwork, leaving their, ah, stuff all over. Now you’ve got as severe an infestation as I’ve seen, and all I can say is “I told you so”.
Stern measures are called for, lest you be overrun. Chlordane and Milwaukee’s Finest might work. You should reserve calling in Paco Exterminators as a last resort. They’re effective, but they leave such a mess behind.
Regards,
Ric
Paco Exterminators.
LMAO!
Speaking of single malts, I’m drinking Bruichladdich tonight. It’s an Islay, but nothing at all like Laphroaig or Lagavulin. It’s light and complex like a good Highland malt, but unlike them, it’s improved with a splash of water… has a bit of a “sea tang” in the nose.
I had some Highland Park. Orkney.
Now, I’m heading for the Guinness and a horror flick.
Must add to that 27.6% body fat.
Ever since the price of Lagavulin went sky-high, and then they started pushing that inferior 12-year old stuff, I’ve gone tequila-only. Trago anyone?
Terrorists have small weenies?
Jeff–? Jeff–? No, sorry. I just can’t place the name.
So we have to ask – how is the PW Pub coming? And why are there no helpful buttons for me to use anymore? I’m hurting, Jeff…
Why do those Celts insist on having a spelling system worse than French, eh? This must be the root of all Islamist indignation in the world: their utter frustration in trying to figure out how to pronounce a single word of written Gaelic (Irish or Welsh especially).
Sláinte!
Why do those Celts insist on having a spelling system worse than French, eh? This must be the root of all Islamist indignation in the world: their utter frustration in trying to figure out how to pronounce a single word of written Gaelic (Irish or Welsh especially).
Sláinte!
It’s because way back when Gaelic had no written tradition, the English kings sent their French Norman Lord cousins to Ireland, because that’s where the land grants were available at the time. They were responsible for putting Gaelic to parchment.
So we can blame the French for that. I think they did it to take the heat off themselves.
“I mean, seriously  why so tense?”
Mrs Garrison:
Let’s all look at why Muslims are upset: [turns and picks up a stick of chalk] First of all, in the Muslim religion, you’re not allowed to have what? [no response] Sex. Good. [writes “NO SEX” on the board] There’s no sex until marriage in the Muslim world. [faces the class] Now, this would be fine except that in the Muslim religion you also can’t… Anybody? [no response] Jack off. [writes “NO JACKING OFF” on the board] Okay, jacking it is strictly forbidden in the Muslim religion. [faces the class] And what do we know about the places Muslims live? They live in? [no response] Good, sand. [writes “SAND” on the board] Now put yourself in the shoes of a Muslim. It’s Friday night, but you can’t have sex, and you can’t jack off. There’s sand in your eyes and probably in the crack of your ass, and then some cartoon comes along from a country where people are getting laid, and mocks your prophet. Well you know what? I’d be pretty pissed off too!
Muslihoon, I blame Cromwell.
it’s a dry heat.
From someone who just recently survived the Week In Hell out here near Palm Springs, where temperatures were at triple digits before 9 am, trust me – when the thermometer is sitting at upwards of 115 in the shade, you really don’t care how dry it is… It’s just HOT.
Maybe they just need a cold beer.
What’s that you say? That joke’s already been done? Well, damn. See what happens when you’re late to the party?
“remember: it’s a dry heat.”
Nope. Humid as Florida in the Gulf for a good part of the year. Just to make things that little bit more squalid.
remember: it’s a dry heat.
Perhaps, but then, so is an oven.