Stop. I don’t know what you’re doing and I really don’t care. Perhaps you expect to reach an oil well in the space under your floor. Perhaps you are constructing small buildings. Perhaps you are simply noisily destroying large chunks of concrete for the sheer amusement value therein. Whatever your cause and whatever you expect to get out of it, you are making more noise than a constipated elephant. Stop, for the love of sanity, before I come up there and forcibly apply your construction equipment to your hindquarters.
There is no sane or rational cause for you to be making that much noise. It doesn’t seem to matter to you what time it is - noon, midnight, early mornings when I’m trying to sleep or late nights when I’m trying to think - you continue making that infernal racket until I feel the urge to scream profanities in your direction. I don’t, of course, because I’m politer than that. Damn my politeness anyway.
I know it’s a hard concept for Neanderthals, but there are other people in this world, other people who would like to keep their eardrums for a few more years. So please stop trying to dig holes in the load-bearing wall - or constructing and testing giant fart robots - or possibly just running off your construction equipment because it makes you feel macho. Stop, find something useful to do with your life, and leave the construction to the paid workers on the scaffold outside the building, who are at least paid exorbitant sums of money to disturb everyone’s rest.
I thought I was rid of you six months ago when you appeared to finally get the concept of silence, but no. Here you are back again like always, and I believe you’ve upgraded your equipment - at least, the noise level has gone from “Bloody Annoying” to “Dear Og, The Pain”. Or maybe that’s just the fact that whatever the gloried hells you’re doing, you have decided that right above my bedroom is just the bestest ever place to do it. It’s not. Go away. Be quiet. Move out. Find an actual workshop in which to hack at the floor with a chainsaw. Something before my eardrums or my temper give out.
Ack! But… money… Internet… tendency to take long and unplanned sabbaticals!
Seriously. I’d love to stick around and it’s heartwarming that everybody wants me to, but… I just don’t spend money on the Internet. call me old-fashioned, but there it is. Especially not when it’s for a year’s subscription to a messageboard. Hell, the way things have been going for me lately I’ll probably end up banned from this one before my first year is out, if I stay.
Wha… you mean… you’d actually pay to subscribe me to the Straight Dope? :eek:
There’s someone here who thinks my contributions are worth money? :eek: :eek: :eek:
You’re on!
…Wow… I feel honoured…
As for deep dark secrets… nah. It’s just I’ve been banned from two other messageboards I really liked lately, and both were for incredibly stupid reasons. So the way my luck is going I can’t help but think this place’ll be next.
Let me tell you somethin’, Pythian. That right there points to the quote coming from Eve is the SDMB equivalent of having your performance in a musical praised by Patti Lupone. Well, except I don’t think Eve’s ever sung off a balcony. Though I could be wrong.
Oh no, it’s my skin that I’m worried about. If I scintillate too much I’m afraid it’ll dry out… and, well, we all know what’ll happen if I[sup]*[/sup] dry out.
[sub]*The picture ain’t mine, but I feel it represents me quite nicely.[/sub]
Very true. What struck me about that quote was how blatantly it drew the line between Pubs and Dems as patriots/traitors. I’m open to correction, but I don’t recall, at least in my half-century-plus of existence, seeing Republicans so broadly characterized as traitors by significant segments of the Democratic establishment. Heavens, yes, lots of other angry epithets hurled, but the traitor card? It seems to me that’s being played in only one direction.
Well, don’t let it go to your head, someone will slap you down sooner or later, probably sooner, especially around these parts.
Yeh, so? Just as long as you don’t mess up here, no problem. Of course, if you do get yourself banned, I’ll track you down and pour salt on you just to watch you wither and die.
If EddyTeddyFreddy hadn’t already offered to pay for your subscription, I would. We need as many Dopers who talk about “giant fart robots” as we can get.
Heh, I think I can manage not to get too helium-filled about it.
And you’d be surprised - some people dislike me because I have good grammar.
Hah! Nice one. I fear the salt.
Of course, in return, if I ever get banned I’ll be sure to track you down and leave spicy slime trails all over your house. They’re a real pain in the stalks to clean off, I’ll have you know.
Oh, you do, do you?
Well then, I have a good friend to whom I’ll have to introduce these boards sometime. I think if he were given the opportunity, all he’d ever talk about is giant fart robots.
Thank you. It’s always lovely to hear people appreciate my linguistic efforts.
