I also appreciate Miller and especially Idle Thoughts. IT consistently braves the wilds of the Internet and, in so doing, happens on occasion to uncover the motivation of posters, revealing them to indeed be trolls, in their own words.
Idle Thought?
I’d wait to make sure there’s a sex tape
Morgenstern, you haven’t read my previous campaign posts. However, in this post 9/11 world, I won’t need boots on the ground, nor nuclear strikes–I have more counterintelligence skills and anti-social media capability to make trolls look like fools that I dare not disclose. However, I will say while my respected opponent has his strengths. . . so do I, and I recommend you to take a look at my history.
ddsun, I’ll recommend you do the same. I have a long history here, and can easily prove that I am a formidable opponent against a variety of threats instead of just one troll source. . .
Tripler
Ladies, Gentlemen, jump in as informed voters, please!
Miller/Idle Thoughts 2016!
My dream ticket would still be Nixon/Manson.
Didn’t Charlie say, “If nominated, I will not run; if elected, I will not serve.”?
Besides, Nixon isn’t eligible.
Pity. He’d probably do a better job this time.
(Overheard at a Presidential rally)–
AN OLD RESIDENT: You’re a credit to your country, sir, that’s what you are.
AN APPLEWOMAN: He’s a man like SD wants.
MILLER: (shaking hands with a blind stripling) My more than Brother! (placing his arms round the shoulders of an old couple) Dear old friends! (he plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls) Peep! Bopeep! (he wheels twins in a perambulator) Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe? (he performs juggler’s tricks, draws red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his mouth) Roygbiv. 32 feet per second. (he consoles a widow) Absence makes the heart grow younger. (he dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics) Leg it, ye devils! (he kisses the bedsores of a palsied veteran) Honourable wounds! (he trips up a fit policeman) U. p: up. U. p: up. (he whispers in the ear of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly) Ah, naughty, naughty! (he eats a raw turnip offered him by Maurice Butterly, farmer) Fine! Splendid! (he refuses to accept three shillings offered him by Joseph Hynes, journalist) My dear fellow, not at all! (he gives his coat to a beggar) Please accept. (he takes part in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples) Come on, boys! Wriggle it, girls!
THE TEEMING MILLIONS (choked with emotion, they brush aside a tear): May the good God bless him!
Nah, Bricker said that.
Well, Bricker didn’t have a chance anyway. He’s never slayed a troll. Dragons and garden gnomes don’t count.
I always get Manson and Bricker confused.