Art Sandusky

Patrick Spoon 1823 Cornish Avenue Charleston, SC 29412 Call (843)819-7190 for reservations.

I'll show my address.

Indeed.

... you're very close to making me angry. The royal penis is clean your highness Thank you, king shit Yeah motherfuckers! Welcome to the United States of America. Time to roll out the red carpet on y'all bitch asses. Hailin from the filthy, dirty South, where the Kings lay. Ludacris; Disturbin' Tha Peace family. Recognize royalty when you hear it. The throne has been taken, so kiss this nigga's earring. Luda throw some grapes on these bitches! [Ludacris] These bitches throwin rose petals at my feet mayn! They wanna spoil me, treatin me like royalty; what I'm 'sposed to do? It's such a sweet thang Work that track, whip 'em like Kunta That's why they stay down, they loyal citizens of Zamunda By way of A-T-L; if you disagree don't even look at me ho don't pass go just go straight to jail With no probation or bail, but this ain't Monopoly It's Jolly Green Giants cause we smoke so much broccoli Uh-oh, Spaghetti-O's! Luda's oodles of noodles And testin me is like pitbulls put up to poodles My rap career goes back further than yo' father hairline It's Ludacris - I pack more nuts than Delta Airlines I'm fly, even when I get high I work cash And even got my coats bumped up to first class I'm boss to all employees - and I'm here to teach the principle Cause I've been saved by mo' bells than Lark Vorhees Man fuck that nigga 'Cris man, for real man. I'm tired of this shit man. Man I try to rap for the nigga, I try to get a nigga tracks; he ain't hearin my shit. Man for real. Man my four-year-old son can rap better than that nigga; man that nigga garbage. Man I got talent too, the nigga ain't hearin me. Man iii-iiiis this shit on? 'Cris, c'mon 'Cris. 'Cris, f'real man. FUCK YOU NIGGA, MAN FUCK YOU! [Ludacris] Fuck you too! What you wanna do, scrawny nigga But I got a arsenal of automatics down to twenty-twos Know how to use 'em, fight dirty as SHIT I throw a grenade and all-in-one bury a CLIQUE You see y'all got it all wrong like women in tuxedos And comin up shorter than five Danny DeVitos I'm on a cool ranch, get laid more than Fritos With five strippers, four wives and three amigos I go scuba divin in Bays at Montego I find gold links and snatch 'em like I'm Deebo But I'm the light-skinteted version of Mandingo I've seen more Beatles and Jagged Edges than Ringo I used to run numbers in line they caled me BINGO Cause I'm big, you a little star, you just twinkle Old asses like sharpeis, y'all all wrinkled And I stay with more BULLETS than yo' Billboard singles Ho that is just too much! You just gotta give applause he is definitely all f'real - yaseeI'msayin? Ha ha I be fuckin with him all the time, yahhmean? I'm sayin, I used to just (?) now home come through he want filters a purple, he want quarters a purple now. I want y'all to trip with it man, I woulda sold him a Coupe (?) we coulda played with, yaseewhatI'msayin? [Ludacris] Yeah, can I get a little hit of that, little nigga with a bigga sack See piece of the bigger trap look at that God be rollin on that Where they kick it at? And a lot of people just don't know Shady Park you heard just don't go Quick to flip the bird up po'-po' Makin the way for that rodeo, that rodeo show! Gotta hit 'em with a reload, I gotta put 'em with the people I gotta make a nigga stop, drop, roll - oh no where the beat go? Bring that, shit back, didn't wanna hear that, clik-clak Tons of fun with guns Fuck all the lil' chit-chat get back get that get that Who knows, who goes there? Motherfuckers it's Poppa Bear Stop and stare; pourin out a lil' gasoline and then drop a flare I'm on, FIRE! And you know I can't stop 'til I re-TIRE! Oh no, we stay swoll, rollin on Vogue TIRES! Right down the avenue, passin you rapidly stackin In the back of the Cadillac and packin emergency action Camera, LIGHT LIGHTS, throwin a punch and then FIGHT FIGHT Packin a lunch and then BITE BITE, A-T-L stay TIGHT TIGHT I'm just tryin to save ya shorty. I'ma let you know it's real down heah. When you ride down that two-eighty-five, and you go past Kincaid, get ready to go past that Cambleton Road fo' you get it cut free shorty just shave; cause dat where dem real niggaz at. I ain't lyin when you in Decatur and you flossin down Glenwood, Candler Road or Rainbow to shave! Cause dat where dem real niggaz at. When you're goin down that ol' Nat Hill and you pass dat second waffle house 'fore you get to the rich niggaz daaang, cause dat where dem real niggaz at! Matter of fact, just shave when ya get to Georgia nigga.

I'm cancerous, so when I diss you, you wouldn't wanna answer this if you responded back with a battle rap you wrote for Canibus. K. You're fucking retarded. Seriously. I don't think there's anyone on this planet more retarded than you. (holds up mirror)

My name is Yossarian.

HOLY SHIT, IT IS ZACALEX!

But I have always been called Kotz. Elaborate.

Posts in HD don't count towards your total.

But I don't know who THAT is either. He's Man of 1,004 Modes now, thus furthering the mystery of why I am called Kotz.

DEEBO IS A GOD AMONGST MORTALS POSTING HIS DISPLEASURE WITH US ALL AND THREATENING THE POPULACE WITH HIS KEYBOARD OF RAGE

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Telling people to leave the thread and shut up because they have negative things to say about it? Boy, that smacks of ironknee considering the person saying it. We have no problem with you writing this stuff that people consider amusing for whatever reason. It just has no place in a folder meant for actual discussion rather than farcical pieces such as this.

Exactly.

No one tell him.

Best Poster: Loss/Kahran in terms of wrestling, IDRM/Agent everywhere else. Worst Poster: Trivia247 Funniest Poster: Incandenza Most Intelligent Poster: Goodhelmet, when he does post, is the MAN. Stupidest Poster: Trivia247 Best Gimmick: George Costanza Best (WORST) Troll: -iB- The Next Person Who Should Be Banned: glennsoe. The Person most deserving to be made a mod: That Kotzenjunge guy. Best Mod: Sass. Worst Mod: Dames (OMG HES NEVER HERE SWERVE~) Fruity Pebbles Or Fruit Loops: Fruity Pebbles.

Eh, I wouldn't wear the tassles on the crotch.

Terrible. This cynical-to-the-point-of-spite crap is all it takes to impress the people in this folder? Jesus.

I just got back from the fight. I kicked his ass in the name of my dear sweet Kylie.

Well, he's also been laid up a good bit with some injuries since he left WWE, as well as not tossing around 250lb. men every night in addition to his usual workout regimen. Every picture has shown him as only very slightly smaller. Rock's not as buff as he used to be, does that mean he was on steroids also?

EXTERIOR: CONNECTICUTBAH -- FORUM CLEARING -- DEAD HOURS The mist has dispersed a bit, but it is still a very gloomy-looking board. Dave pulls an equipment box from the shore to the clearing. He ignites a little fusion furnace and warms his hands before it. Taking a power cable, he plugs it into ALF-2's noselike socket. ALF-2 is a little too happy about where Dave plugged the cable in, and Dave puts it back in the proper socket. DAVE: Ready for some power? Okay. Let's see now. Put that in there... WHOA! Wrong hole! There you go. The droid whistles his disappointment. Dave then opens a container of processed e-food and sits before the thermal heater. DAVE: (sighs) Now all I have to do is find this Yodames...if he even exists. Nervously, he looks around at the foreboding forums. DAVE: Still...there's something familiar about this place. Like I’ve whored here before. I feel like...I don't know... STRANGE VOICE: Feel like what? Dave jumps out of his skin. ALF-2 screeches in terror. The young warrior grabs for his Ghast as he spins around, looking for the speaker. Mysteriously standing right in front of Dave is a strange, tan creature with glasses and a teenage-looking arrangement of facial hair, not more than two feet tall. The wizened little thing is dressed in rags that appear to be an old Yanklorian robe. It motions toward Dave’s Ghast. DAVE: (looking at the creature) Like we're being watched! CREATURE: Away with your weapon! I mean you no harm. After some hesitation, Dave puts away his Ghast, although he really doesn't understand why. ALF-2 watches with interest. CREATURE: I am wondering, why are you here? DAVE: I'm looking for someone. CREATURE: Looking? Found someone, you have, I would say, hmmm? The little creature laughs. DAVE: (Trying to keep from smiling) Indeed. CREATURE: Help you I can. Yes, mmmm. DAVE: I don't think so. I'm looking for a great poster. CREATURE: Ahhh! A great poster. (laughs and shakes his head) Whoring not make one great. With the aid of a walking stick, the tiny stranger moves over to one of the cases of supplies. He begins to rummage around. ALF-2 moves to the edge of the case -- standing almost eye level to the creature who is carelessly handling the supplies -- and squeaks his disapproval. Their tiny visitor picks up the container of food Dave was eating from and takes a bite. DAVE: Put that down. Hey! That's my dinner. The creature spits out the bite he has taken. He makes a face. CREATURE: How you get so big, eating food of this kind? He flips the container in Dave's direction and reaches into one of Dave's supply cases. DAVE: Listen, friend, we didn't mean to land in that puddle, and if we could get our ship out, we would, but we can't, so why don't you just... CREATURE: (teasing) Aww, cannot get your ship out? The creature spots something of interest in Dave's case. Dave loses patience and grabs the case away. The creature retains his prize -- a tiny power lamp -- and examines it with delight. DAVE: Hey, you could have broken this. Don't do that. Ohhh...you're making a mess. Hey, give me that! CREATURE: (retreating with the lamp) Mine! The JLH pictorial also! Or I will help you not. Clutching its treasure, the creature backs away from Dave, drawing closer to ALF-2. As Dave and the creature argue, one of ALF-2's little arms slowly moves out toward the power lamp, completely unnoticed by the creature. DAVE: I don't want your help. I want my lamp back. I'll need it to get out of this slimy mudhole. CREATURE: Mudhole? Slimy? My home this is! ALF-2 grabs hold of the lamp and the two little figures are immediately engaged in a tug-of-war over it. ALF-2 beeps a few angry, "Give me that"s. CREATURE: Ah, ah, ah! DAVE: Oh, Artoo, let him have it. CREATURE: Mine! Mine! DAVE: ALF-2! CREATURE: Mine! The creature lets go with one hand and beats ALF-2 with his cane. ALF-2 reacts with a delighted squeal, and lets go. The creature is freaked out by the kinky droid. CREATURE: Mine! DAVE: (fed up) Now will you move along, little fella? We're got a lot of work to do. CREATURE: No! No, no! Stay and help you, I will. (laughs) Find your friend, hmm? DAVE: I'm not looking for a friend, I'm looking for a Posting Master. CREATURE: Oohhh. Posting Master. Yodames. You seek Yodames! DAVE: You know him? CREATURE: Mmm. Take you to him, I will. (laughs) Yes, yes. But now, we must get high. Come. Good weed. Come. With that, the creature scurries out of the clearing, laughing merrily. Dave stares after him. All he sees is the faint light from the small power lamp moving through the fog. Dave makes his decision and starts after the creature. CREATURE: (in the distance) Come, come! ALF-2, very upset, whistles a blue streak of protest. DAVE: Stay here and watch after the camp, ALF-2. ALF-2 beeps even more frantically. But as Dave disappears from view, the worried little droid grows quieter, and utters a soft electronic sigh of contentment. Lubricant pops out from one of his compartments.

He just registered another account, even being so dumb as to use [email protected] as the E-mail address. If I were banned somewhere for it being so clear no one liked me, I'd never even read that board again, let alone re-register.

Why are multi-millionaires trying to steal cars? I'd laugh my ass off if Master P robbed a liquor store.

I didn't even know we had any British detainees.

When you register with an E-mail address of [email protected], you'll get nailed quickly.