So, um, whatcher sayin’ is that what I’m smellin’ isn’t really a dragon after all?
And this fella here with the dark glasses isn’t really representin’ Universal Studios?
Fergit the sword. Fetch me back the feckin’ bottle there. Me and the ghost of Andy Warhol got some serious issues ta get settled here . . .
Somebody oughta go get that poor neckid little burnt-up weasel outta the car trunk then. And tell the double-crossin’ little shit that the royalty deal is right out.
Dr. Watson
“Never trust a guy what can’t remember where he left his stuff.”
Someone back there mentioned hijacking the space shuttle. I don’t remember who, I’d drank most of my booze by then. But we’ve got enough alcohol, we’ve got enough transportation, and most importantly, * we’ve got enough lunatics. *
(Now where the hell are we, and which way is Florida?)
Posting just to see how long it will take for the post to register. Y’see, the longer the thread, the longer it takes for a post to register. Or so I think…
::: struggling to erect gigantic banner with the Idealized Portrait of Uncle Beer (a paint-over of a surplus Communist model, purchased at Eastern BlocBuster fer a song):::
Ahhhh! Long ago He Belched, and that Belch turned into The Movement. Now the Dream is reborn!
::: takes a swig of tequila, hoists the bottle toward the Guy Stuff Banner:::
Long May He Belch!
::: Runs as a careening schoolbus tears through the playground :::
And one thing: if we’re gonna hijack the Space Shuttle, we need to get a hold of Nuclear Sub Boy (as someone called him in another thread. Yeah, I know. There ARE no other threads ), ChiefScott.
Chief? Can you drive a big flame bursting thermos?
Oh, no! It’s back! That does it, I’m hiding all of my cats in the bomb shelter until this blows over.
An infinite number of rednecks in an infinite number of pickup trucks shooting an infinite number of shotguns at an infinite number of road signs will eventually produce all the world’s great works of literature in Braille.
Oh, no! It’s back! That does it, I’m hiding all of my cats in the bomb shelter until this blows over.
An infinite number of rednecks in an infinite number of pickup trucks shooting an infinite number of shotguns at an infinite number of road signs will eventually produce all the world’s great works of literature in Braille.