Greatest thing since sliced bread.

The gretest thing since repeating firearms.

Not to worry, Falcon, I’m in Wisconsin. Wait! No! I didn’t mean to post that! Cancel post! Cancel post! I’m in…ummm…California! Honest!

::hastily throws few belongings into suitcase and flees::

Fox two, fox two! Missiles away!

Now launch the alert five strike!

Yeah. Wisconsin fuckin’ Cheese Wiz is what we need.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m bookmarking this thread so I can copy denbo’s post whenever the desire to piss ChiefScott arises…

Of course, that should have read “piss ChiefScott off…”, maybe I should have left it as I originally posted.

Then again, considering what he did to that toilet…

Boy, that was close. Good thing I disabled smilies

This thread had been the greatest (and funniest) thing since the invention of fire.

::Gets on boat leaving for remote island in the Southern Hemisphere::

This thread leaves me stunned. Of course the visuals were impeccable–though I sincerely hope Chief Scott doesn’t nuke Wisconsin, mainly because of proximity and wind patterns.

Okay, the cheese is good too.

But Baloo, that was the funniest, sneakiest, high minded, slyest contribution I’ve read in a month of Sundays.
Kudos, bravo, fervent applause! ::stands, claps madly, wakes up dog::

From the sublime to the boring, I once asked my Depression era mom about this phrase. Her answer put it in context: from a tiny girl, Monday was bake day, Tuesday washday, etc. etc. Baking bread is refined yuppie joy only because it’s optional and a matter of taste. 'Twas a whole 'nother critter when bread was a staple around which other foods revolved, often in sparse quantities.

When it meant enforced mixing/kneading by hand, rising way before dawn to put the loaves in and being tired already, the insane luxury of pre-baked and sliced bread meant sleep-rest-one-less-task.

I sometimes make my own bread now (no machine) as a sort of echo to the the thread about “what will make youngsters scratch their heads”. Mom lived to yearn for the honest, homemade version…but she didn’t have to bake it to eat.

Dreadful thread drift here, but it’s mind-boggling trying to imagine the things that will recall nostalgia in folks coming up through age now. Even though I won’t be around then and can’t imagine now, damned if it doesn’t give me ease about being human just knowing it will happen.

Okay, back to the rants/spiffs in progress.

Rambling as always,

I too must applaud Baloo for an excellent post.

BTW, I aborted the missiles in deference to Veb and the brewing history of Milwaukee.

DRY – M’boy, you are on thin ice.

Denbo – Thanks for the wasted bandwidth and the 3 minute wait to load the thread – putz.

What do I win?
A Straight Dope Coffee Mug???
C’mon, Cecil.

We thank, you, Chief. If you’re ever around the heartland, I’ll stand you to a debauch at Mader’s in Milwaukee. It runs high to German food (hmmmm) but it has a beer stock that won’t quit. I spent a happy weekend (I think) within walking distance of the place. Atmospheric quirks; my memory fails somehow.

I drank beers from places I didn’t know even made beer. It was a truly enlightening experience. If you work your way through the beer menu, you get an engraved silver stein to welcome you back.

Or maybe you buy the stein and they engrave your liver. Somehow the details escape me. Anyway, you a spiritual home awaits you in Milwakee, and we in the grain belt (beer to be!) thank you for sparing us.

Aren’t any of those swabbies/grunts/mollusks SEALS by now? Couldn’t you arrange a surgical strike on your tormentor by calling in a few chits from The Chief?

Got cookies?

The bear bows humbly.

Hey Chief Scott, thanks for aborting those missles. With the way the Navy is, they probably would have hit Michigan instead of Wisconsin (you know, same general area, give or take a few hundred miles).

I’ll be nice, and not even put any smilies here.

Oh well, I lied!

Consider that I just might have put into my last will and testament a request that the executors of my will AND beneficiaries of my estate (such as it is), reg at the SDMB and bombard the place with smileys. Should I meet my untimely demise, you’d do well to consider my formidable, post-death, second strike capacity.

By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you. What DID you do with Silent Bob’s body? (Took me a long time to figure out that you might well be responsible for his sudden disappearance)

*Originally posted by DRY *

Now there’s an existential question…if you bury a mime at sea, is there a splash??


Methinks I’m gonna draw a big picture of a smilie, decorate it up REAL nice, post it on my website, then give everyone the link.

I’ll E-mail it to ChiefScott personally, so I KNOW he’ll see it.

ChiefScott, it’ll be my present to you.