Some of these new toys are so creative and inventive.
This year they have an M15 Victim Doll. It's wound up already.
On Sun, 16 Dec 2007 20:03:43 -0800 (PST), Don Stockbauer
<donstockbauer@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
> wrote:
<*.*>There is release. Everybody dies eventually.
Yea, verily, but spam and the M15 Victim dialogs are like Tennyson's
brook:
<*.*><*-*><*_*>For men may come and men may go,<*_*><*-*><*.*>
<*_*><*-*><*.*> But spam goes on for ever. <*.*><*-*><*_*>
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December 17th, 2007, MARS at its brightest, -1.18 magnitude, about 5 to 6
am.
AOL had mistakenly said September 9th and it would appear as though we had
two moons.
If Mars ever looks big enough to seem like another earth moon,
we is in a heap o' trouble, AOL, LOL...
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History Channel
Program about evacuation operations.
One event. A terrible nuclear accident in a suburb
of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on March 28, 1979.
Three Mile Island,
uhhhhh, in a philly suburb, called Harrisburg, PA.
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The deadly H5N1 bird flu virus has been found in two new sites in Poland
on Wednesday, an official said.
Poland has suffered a spate of recent outbreaks.
The first was discovered at a turkey farm 80 km (50 miles) northwest of
Warsaw earlier this month.
Further sites were detected some 50 km from that location in an area of
intensive poultry production.
One of the EU's biggest poultry producers, Poland ex****ted 230,000 tonnes
of poultry to European markets last year.
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Pourquoi n'y a-t-il pas de M&Ms blancs ?
Parce qu'ils réduiraient les M&Ms noirs en esclavage, qu'ils voleraient
les terres des M&Ms rouge, qu'ils chasseraient
les M&Ms blues jusqu'à l'extinction, qu'ils accuseraient les M&Ms jaunes
d'entrave au commerce, qu'ils déclencheraient
la panique en faisant croire que les M&Ms verts veulent envahir la terre,
et qu'ils se plaindraient que les M&Ms marrons
prennent tous leurs emplois.
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You Know You've Had Too Much Christmas Cheer When...
1. You notice your tie sticking out of your fly.
2. Someone uses your tongue for a coaster.
3. You start kissing the ****traits on the wall.
4. You see your underwear hanging from the chandelier.
5. You have to hold on to the floor to keep from sliding off.
6. You strike a match and light your nose.
7. You take off your shoes and wade in the potato salad.
8. You hear someone say, "Call a priest!"
9. You hear a duck quacking and it's you.
10. You complain about the small bathroom after emerging from the closet.
11. You refill your glass from the fish bowl.
12. You tell everyone you have to go home... and the party's at your
place.
13. You ask for another ice cube and put it in your pocket.
14. You realize you're the only one under the coffee table.
15. You pick up a roll, and butter your watch.
16. You suggest everyone stand and sing the national budget.
17. You're at the dinner table and you ask the hostess to pass a bedpan.
18. You take out your handkerchief and blow your ear.
19. You tell your best joke to the rubber plant.
20. You yawn at the biggest bore in the room... and realize you're in
front of the hall mirror.
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Christmas is in my heart twelve months a year and thanks to credit cards,
it's on my Visa card statement twelve months a year.
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Question: Why was Santa's little helper depressed?
Answer: Because he had low elf esteem.
Question: What do you call people who are afraid of Santa Claus?
Answer: Claustrophobic.
Question: What do snowmen eat for breakfast?
Answer: Snowflakes.
Question: What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?
Answer: Frostbite.
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Christmas: The time when everyone gets Santamental.
I know. I know. People say "It's the thought that counts, not the gift",
but couldn't people have bigger thoughts?
Santa Claus sure is a jolly fellow! Imagine all that driving and still
being able to say "Ho! Ho! Ho!"
Father to three-year old: "No a reindeer is not a horse with TV antenna."
Every year, Christmas becomes less a birthday and more a clearance sale.
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The Brook (excerpt)
`O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme,
`Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies.
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
`Poor lad, he died at Florence, quite worn out,
Travelling to Naples. There is Darnley bridge,
It has more ivy; there the river; and there
Stands Philip's farm where brook and river meet.
I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
`But Philip chatter'd more than brook or bird;
Old Philip; all about the fields you caught
His weary daylong chirping, like the dry
High-elbow'd grigs that leap in summer grass.
I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,
And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
-- Alfred, Lord Tennyson
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Dante
...
..
--
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