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Guest Angel_Grace_Blue

Epic Taft/GOdrea flame war

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Guest Angel_Grace_Blue

Now it's in the Community board. Yay for everything~! For those who weren't/aren't aware, this is a flamewar between Taft and I in the NHB's "Who's the biggest fuckup?" thread. I think it proved some very important points, and stuff...(I'll be in green, and I'll leave Taft as is, and others will be in gray)


I like pasta because my house is made out of bricks.




You sir, if you took the time to remove the multiple penises from your face and got a clear look at your screen before you blindly posted each time, would realize that you iz teh suq~!


In the course of modern history, man has evolved no more powerful a weapon in battle than the washing machine. To keep our enemies thuroughly intimidated, we must wash our clothes regularly.


Thus leads to destrucity, my stunned compadre.




Only ye, of little facial hair, would go so far as to question my loyalty to the tiny nation Estonia! I have never in my life, been so insulted to the point of vomiting in a cowboy hat, which I have just done.


You leave me no choice. I shall be forced to call upon the might of the stars, and inform you that your fly is open, you dirty whore of a man-child.


Tribal belly dance recreates what might have been. But there were many different tribes, mostly nomadic, and there is no documentation (no photographs or paintings or even much written) as to what really existed. So you take your best guess and play around with that. It has ethnic elements, certainly, but there just isn't enough real information to recreate exactly what went on in many diverse tribes throughout the middle-east/northern africa/mediterranian areas.


Sign on the wall says:


Shave and a haircut... Two Bits




Just shut up. - IDrinkRatsMilk


Is that your feeble attempt at disproving my claim of Arabic, Cherokee, and Samoan heritage? I must say, I am shocked and apalled at such an idea, let alone the act of posting such a thing, Taft.


If only you could eat some tasty Mr. Brain's Pork Faggots and see the true path of Western Shiite Communism, and accept it and Mr. Brain's Pork Faggots as a great part of any meal, then this bickering would cease. However, you choose to spit in my face, and I must shake the ring ropes of the cosmos in anger. Just you wait, for soon the shaking shall have ended and your devastation will be at hand.


(But not tonight. I have to go to bed so I can get up around 5:30 tomorrow for school. Plus I have to shave my back before cheerleader try-outs)


Genghis Khan was born in the early 1160's (it has been argued between 1162 and 1167, but recently agreement has been made for 1167), the son of the Kiyat-Borjigid chieftain Yisugei. He was named Temujen because, at the time of his birth, his father had captured a Tatar chieftain of the same name. Legend says that the newborn Temujen had a bloodclot in the palm of his hand, an omen that he was destined to be a hero.



Just shut up.


The breed was originally called the "Shorthair", then "Domestic Shorthair", and later, in 1965, the "American Shorthair". Today, the term "domestic shorthair" is used to describe cats of unknown parentage or origin, and American Shorthair is the title given to the true pedigreed variety. They were among the first breeds recognized in the United States; 71 "Shorthair" cats and kittens were displayed at the very first U.S. cat show in 1895.


It was once said, that with freedom comes nudity. I couldn't agree more.


All except a rare and wonderous few of us are born naked and this is how we were intended to live our lives in the service of the Higher Hoss. Bred to live, fight, color with markers, eat, eat three and a half inch floppy disks, and ultimately die. All intended to be done without the limitations of clothes.


The answers my friend, are blowing in the wind. Along with my genitalia.




The topic of tipping at a resteraunt is an often discussed and even more often touchy subject at parties and gatherings. People have been killed over the differences of opinion, and it should finally be brought out into the open.


There are essentially two lines of thinking:


1. About 45 degrees. Any more and one would simply fall into the mighty casam that is the Earth's edge.


2. It is not possible to tip. Like the mighty eagle eating an ice cream cone, none can stop or even start the incredible force behind the Toy's R Us sales papers, delivered each Thursday before eight o'clock. Any later and one will be executed.


Webster describes fast as "A quickening pace, hurried." Webster is described as a small black boy trying to steal the thunder from Gary Coleman.


And ye, there will come a day when fathers are unable to find their slippers, and the tiny bits of jewelry they sported just the night before around seven o'clock. The children will be saddened and the sheep and to a lesser extent, goats will cry red rivers of blue blood. This color change is yet unexplained and will remain one of the great unsolved crimes of our past thirty millenia.


Without rhyme or reason, the man-beast stalks about, i.e., too wit, e.g. igloo, with pieces of cat hanging from his nostrils. Sloping the plains of the land, searching in vain for more carnival workers to feast upon. Unfortunately, his life-span is a short seven seconds and is unable to locate prey for more than twenty minutes.


Are you confused? Try putting peanut butter on an empty CD case and sticking it in a tanning bed. That should straighten you out.


According to the fifty eightth ammendment, the race of mutant hybred pig-squirrels that are being held hostage in Fort Knox are held so without bail, and without meals until the day when they get one of their own into the Senate. As soon as this is done, they will surely have the majority favor in the House as well and must not be allowed access to nuclear devices. Mutant hybred pig-squirrels and nuclear energy do not mix well. Fool.


O' Muse! Sing in me, and through me tell the tale of that man lost so long ago without so much as half a McDonald's Filet O' Fish in his left breast pocket! He who has suffered long. Suffered hard. And suffered acid burns from the power plant run by rodents. Shall finally be delivered to his most Immortal Home.


Gary, Indiananapolis!




then it descended into taft & that other guy posting weird, nonsensical shit that isn't much funnier. - godthedog


Oh dear, Taft, you have obviously not had the experience of a good Bulgarian crusty short-loaf bread. Once you were to soak any and all callouses and boils in that delightful piece of starch, you would truly know joy.


As for you, godthedog, I must inform you of several things. Thing the first being that only on Wednesdays are mimes allowed to shop for knickers.


The second item that you must know is that your small intestine is not, as you may think, made of knitted calf skin.


Finally, I am not a guy. I mean, seriously fucktard, find me twenty guys who would use Angel_Grace_Blue as a screen name? JSP, webmaster of 665 is the obvious exception.


Hopefully you can hold your liquor Drea. Ancient soy milk from the crusty metropolis of Pompeii is a drink best served without onion or the political influence from the onion's great enemy, the cocker-spaniel.


See, when I started attending ITT Tech, I was skeptical about the "free lunch" program. All I can say is: Don't knock it until you try it! The beets are exquisit and the pickled chicken larvae are a treat to behold. Best eaten before 19sixtythree.


Without wings, the danish would be a completely immobile animal, all except for its near useless flippers. This is an incredible threat to the oatmeal crop in the Andes mountains. Only the south side though, REPRESENT~!!


It has been excited and will soon be allowed to move. Without word the mighty ostrich has been awakened and will be the demise of the human race, providing it can find a decent milkshake in this two-horse town;


That can be said three times without tripping over the toppled gopher. If you have on the corect size 23 orthopedic shoes, with gel insoles. Put that in the asshole of a herron and attempt to smoke it. Don't try this in Delaware though, they've banned that sport thousands of years ago.




My dear Taft, how horribly wrong you are. Might there have been severe cases of albinoism in your family bloodline? Just a thought you might want to have checked out.


As the ancient Sumerian poet, Phil Esperanzo once said, 'There is sex in the butter on Tuesday' This directly coincides with French poet Heinz Mustaafa McGregor who said, 'Avoid whistling the theme to Bonanza, as it is the mating call of zombies'


The one you call Crusty Chris is a liar of the highest calliber. He shall be repromanded and fed goose until he removes his eggs from my war bus.


The personal indignity refracted by your reply, my dear, is laughable. I enjoy perforating styrofoam with a great many things, but a tinfoil sword is not one of them. If you wish to race my manatee, go right ahead, but I warn you, he is cunning and surprisingly swift for being covered in bread.


Without the purpose or reason behind it, the catbox to my right has just informed me that the left side of my head is not, in truth, made out of gummi bears. On the other hand I have a three inch Spanish Conquistador, and how confused he is. I would much like to take his tiny helmet and use it as a tea cup, but alas, the fire-wood has consumed the entire fleet of half-used rolls of exposed film.


This said, I would like to touch upon the subject of affirmative action but I have no hands. This is precisely the reason that we must band together against the oppression of the Finnish, for it is written that they will inheret the Earth, but after it is a hand-me-down from that highest of the European leaders, Emporer Pat Boone.


He who is wise, Drea, knows things.




Ah, the musings that only those without foreheads are capable of. How is it, Taft, that you are able to live with yourself after the incident with that sprinter and the moose?


Only when you devour a shimmering herring face, will the true secrets of pudding sculpting be revealed to you.


It's so painfully obvious that you have no wicker jacket of your own, and for this, only melting weasels will enjoy your company. This is doubly true for large Turkish men with ample back hair and no eyes.


I would have agreed completely with your claim about the Finnish inheriting the earth, except that you incorrectly cite Pat Boone as the highest of European leaders. Currently, and this appears to hold true for a number of decades, the highest European leader is none other than Luxemborgian Grand Tostada, Mickey Q. Krinklewitz, or Randy Quaid as he is commonly known.


That moose is none of your damn business and I'll thank you to stay out of my personal affairs.


If you wouldst clean the bologna out of your ears for a microsecond, you would know full well that the beaver is the true king of the forest. It stands proud, aloof, on top of its home. Its mighty cape blowing in the breeze, munching on a bean can.


If not for the simple fact, dear girl, that bacon is the source of all my energy and underwater knitting abilities, you have been deemed worthy enough to live in harmony amongst the giant ground sloths, forced under ground decades ago by the avid French trappers.


Without needing to say so, I will anyway.


The pure and unadulturated speed of the mudskipper, when thrown at a distance of twenty leagues, is enough to penetrate the hyde of a rhinocerous who has just eaten thirty tourists, as they are known to do in their natural environment of Manhattan.


And it is that which I propose to leave a piece of flaming meat pie on the doorstep to your outhouse, so as that when you leave after reading and responding to this post, you will mess your sandals in the glorious meat pie of my ancestors.






How dare do you even suggest defiling my sandals, woven from Peruvian pygmy flounder wool by none other than Abraham L. Lincoln IV?


As the ancient Pakistani proverb goes, 'speak swiftly when a badger has a switchblade at your throat, unless a ferret is backing you up with an platypus spleen.' The reason I cite this is because I wish to inform you that I have the wit of a platypi spleen-armed ferret, and there is no escape from my devastating range, unless you happen to have a foam rubber jockstrap and a nylon sweater.


Hopefully, you will see the glaring error of your mudskipper claim. The correct number of consumed tourists is at least thirty-seven and one-nineth.


I would inform you of your many other fallacies and such, but I grow weary of your combustible knees.


You throw around words like they were chunks of ocelot dung, Drea. Depending on how far you can throw them, they mean nothing. Under 50 feet, you get kicked in the hands. Over 3000 feet, you have to go get the dung chip 'cause that's our last one.


The days of yore, how they fascinate me! With the midget tossing and witch disolving and clorox shots. Oh to be young and three hundred years young again! Without your age, you are dead. And let that be a lesson to all of the nose-less potatoes in the spaceship.


I hope you can find your hat made out of the supposed scalp of the yeti because we are about ready to cross cucumbers. The sherpa is a quiet animal, spending most of its time grazing and sleeping in the savanah of the ocean. Its diet consists mainly of plankton and juji fruits.


As Sigmund Freud once said upon visiting a small tribe of Brazillian pygmy trees "I hope that this damn shark doesn't AAHHHHHHHHH!!" That was right before his head was bitten off by a flying shark, clocked at approximately 234 miles per hour EST. This of course, ignoted the War of the Oak and was what was the prompting for our little debate.


But I don't have to tell you that.


Out loud.


I mean...






I must say, Taft, for a moment, I truly thought that you had defeated me and this would be a post of concedement, but, I shall not go down without one last attempt at victory, much like a wounded sparrow, still trying to bring down the moose that injured it. And I think it goes without saying that a wounded sparrow is the most dangerous kind.


It also goes without saying that with two, more towards the left, only with mustard and six, no less, does midsummer's eve occur spectacularly.


I only hope that in your old age the robots take you swiftly, Taft, for making someone as gangly as yourself suffer under robot torture is just aquatic.


If you didn't know, the circumnavigating of a male swan involves delicate machinery and a large Japanese man in a bathing suit holding a bullhorn and eating cantelope.

Sadly, it appears you have bested me. I bow to your wit and use of herbivores as a constant source of information. I wish to concede this flame war. There's been too much Mormon bloodshed, for one thing. Also, my legs have been removed below the upper thigh by an Egyptian scissor-backed trout-eyed weasel. Take this as a concedement on my part. You flamed a good flame, friend Taft, and hopefully, this will strengthen the friendship and alliance between Zimbabwe and Norway.


Hey, hold on a second dame! You cant just back out of what could very well be the biggest thing to his the good people of Luxembourg in decades like that! They've branded cattle with our images on them, they've named they're children after random words found in our posts, for the love of meat, they've elected a bison leader! A FREAKING BISON!!


This cannot end like this, the royal kingdom of the toilet paper tubes will be crumbled to the Earth. Norfolk will rise out of obscurity and conquer Mars. The ear shapped rocks of yesteryear will begin to fly at topspeeds of six miles an hour when they should be going around 3, this being a loading zone and all.


Without the structure and wonderful form used in this cathedral, the draperies will fall upwards at the seaguls and eat them, using a bizarre form of endocytosis. The green colored oxen snout would have to take the office building and tear it down, build a new one, and eat the rebuilt one. Why, my ancestors would rise from their graves and I'd only have to bury them again.


No way.


You may have claimed defeat. You may be done with this. Drea, you may have even aborted the child of Mr. Peanut. But this is going too far.


You cant concede,







Do you not recall my warning in my first post that had to be removed due to its prophetic doom? If you do not, since it's obvious that you have the brains of a loaf of amniotic fluid bread, I stated that when this flame war ends, small children will rise up from their tombs of butter and moose entrails and club a smelly longfisherman named Norbert with a cup of chicken salad.


Why, oh, why must you bring up that sordid affair with Mr. Peanut? You know as well as I that he raped me after a certain someone (That someone being Chuck E. Cheese) slipped me eleven ounces of GHB as well as two Tic-Tacs.


I will not allow you to quit...


However, before you go, I have one request. Please pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs.

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Guest TheBostonStrangler

You guys are so fucking funny. Seriously, if we need advertising for this fed, look no further than you two.

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This only adds veracity to my theory that you're trying to drive everyone you meet insane.

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You don't even know what those words mean, Magnifico, for it has been proven by Ted Danson that people with femur diameters similar to yours are unable to comprehend the complexeties of a Swiss ostritch rodeo.

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We used to put people like that away in my youth... and then, when people asked what happened to them, we'd lie through our teeth:


"Where's Drea?"


"She's... uhm... she's down south..."

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Dear sir, please refrain from making such hasty replies, especially in your state, as it is highly unlikely that the jellyfish stings to your potato's rectum have had sufficient time to heal. However, since you did willingly 'call me out' as the local children say before they are ripped apart by stampeding termites, I feel obligated to retort.


The velocity of an invisible Texan man of thirty years of age varies inversely to his weight after eating a fried axle and being clubbed with ten pounds of harp seal placenta.


So, in closing, please consider the plight of Greek marmoset farmers before you drill through the moon using only a severed goat penis and some dental floss of the 'mint' variety.

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I humbly apologize. The above comments were directed at Patrick, and your post slipped between the two.


Were I in Bulgaria, where the flamingo is feared by all and tweezers are the currency, I would surely assault you with a bombardment of dead mice, as in the days of Sir Tom Petty, before his fatal encounter with rabid dimes, that his.


However, I find myself stranded at the salad bar of a Egyptian buffet restaurant, and there is a severe lack of fried pig socks. Rest assured, though, that once I blast out with help from lactating Frenchmen, you will receive such a beating, the likes of which haven't been seen since David Bowie was nearly consumed by a frozen mastadon in Toledo, Ohio, in 1384, and I shall render you unrecognizable to your mute barber, who just so happens to be Don Knotts.

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