Hentor, if I misunderstood your post, I apologize.
Well, for some time now I’ve wanted to get my hands on that carjacker who, several years ago, stole a woman’s car (in MO, I think it was) and pulled away while she was desperately trying to get her six-year old son out of the seat. He was caught in the seatbelt and was dragged to his death while Captain Fuckwad just drove the car off. Hundreds of people signalled to him and honked, and he just drove.
I don’t care where, and I don’t need anything by way of weapons. Just my onw enraged self. I’ve dreamed of this many, many times.
I think the joke was that the asshole he wanted ten minutes alone with was her’s. I just assumed her willingness.
This is exactly right, except that I have only a guess as to her willingness, but would not follow up without it. In fact, I would not be able to follow up with it, being married and all (sigh).
It was simply a poor joke regarding a variant interpretation of the topic, and I apologize for leaving any room to interpret this as rape.
My list is so long I could have difficulty knowing where to start.
All I can say is that it would involve back to back Barney and Teletubbie marathons.
and you’d exclude the Wiggles?
Bin Laden - Restraints, a ballpeen hammer, razor blades, an IV drip full of pork broth and a nail-studded broom stick. Also enough medical supplies to keep him alive so that my whole scenario could be repeated regularly. And video equipment to broadcast it worldwide.
Damn. Salt. I forgot the salt.
If danceswithcats can do it, so can I.
My ex, her boyfriend, and her parents.
A nice pair of pliers and a blowtorch would do just fine.
Here’s another one for Osama. Restraints…Cage with hungry rats suspended around his testicles…and yummy bacon grease smeared upon them.
WHO: Laura (a personal enemy)
WHERE: any where any time
TOOLS: my bare hands
My coworker, who’s a folk musician . . .
An isolated shack, a chair, duct tape/rope, a gag, and a very very good sound system with Metallica’s Kill 'em All cranked up, on repeat for 24 hours. (I’m not in to causing real physical harm, tbh.)
This twit drives me nuts; tells me to care about my job, then patently ignores me when I try to discuss work issues. Expects perfection, yet acts condescending or impatient when I ask for clarification on something. I just want to make the idiot feel as frustrated and aggravated as I do! :mad:
Hey, I don’t mind if you kipe my idea, so long as I get 50% of the video/DVD proceeds and the book rights. 
My mothers Husband.
My house(Its in an island on a lake 16.6 miles away from any sort of civilization)
Various sharp objects… Broken glass, steak knifes, serrated knifes, and just for giggles maybe of those cool electric shock gun thingies… PHaser? Taser? Whatever. And some of that garlic he loves so much to rub in his eyes.
My Ex.
A cabin far from civilization.
A football, Wolverine claws, a post-hole digger, a five gallon bucket of Crisco, lighter fluid… oh yeah and about five of my largest, surliest friends and their pet badgers.
Well, you barbarian, you’ve learned your lesson: joking about rape is wrong. It’s just plain wrong.
Now let’s get back to the fun things, like joking about torture, dismemberment, and slow, painful death.
Coleen’s(the gestation chamber) boyfriend from when I was three.
Items needed: Rope, chainsaw, chair, pulley and winch, sledgehammer, nutcracker, one pound of shattered glass, salt, blowtorch, pliers, foley catheter, and two gallons of lemon juice.
**My manager and her bitch: ** A small square cage, a horny donkey, a rabid pitbull and a handful of bloodsucking leeches … and maybe a dentist
GWB and Grey Davis and LA Mayor James Hahn.
I’d keep it simple. A pair of pliers and a blowtorch. You know, the classics…
Who Osama Bin Laden, Saddam Hussein & his posse**
Where: Locked, secret location hotel room in the middle of no where. Broadcast on all networks across the world.
Weapon Phred Phelps, Jerry Falwell and any other loonie Tele-evangelist. Babelfish and no-doze for all.
Reality TV gets real interesting suddenly.