In point of fact, there are, according to the records in the Pit, only four major issues keeping you out of the Pearly Gates, all of which you could redress with minimal effort any time in the next six months and be assured of Paradise.
Seems to be a common theme.
But they’re terrorist rabbits, with big sharp teeth!
What are their names and how gruesome do their deaths need to be…?
The image in my head was of the Unabomber in his small, cluttered shack, mangy, long, crummy, beard, hunched over a dog eared and yellowed notepad… there are 78 rabbits in the shack with him, he keeps one on a tall stool next to him and every now and then pauses his scribbling to lean his ear against his pink, twitchy nose; he listens intently for a few moments nods in approval and as he goes back to his manuscript mutters “Yes, yes… we shouldn’t forget to say that too”.
If anyone’s interested, here’s a video I made of the jovial beginning of the Redshirt protests. Guy got shot dead in that side street two days after I made the vid.
How much is Bt400,000? If it is three bucks and change, go right ahead. If it significant, no. And especially of the wife would say in the morning “have a good day making bombs, dear.”
It’s a bit over 13.000 US dollars.
I saw that Monty Python documentary.
That is serious money in some third world countries.
You know Ale means thirteen thousand dollars, not thirteen dollar and no cents, yes?
I’m honestly surprised they paid so much. Very often in the case of deaths, the payment is in the hundreds of US dollars, not thousands, but then it’s usually companies making the payment. I specifically recall when they were building the Skytrain, and a steel girder fell late one night on Sukhumvit Road and squashed a cabbie and his car flat, like stomping on a bug. The company paid the wife something like $400, the papers said.
It’s fine with me if all of these red-shirt bastards blow themselves to Hell where they belong … as long as it’s not in my building of course. 
Preferably in an isolated building, as this asshat took three others with him. There was a married couple living in the apartment next door whose bodies were thrown meters, proof positive that you never know what’s going to happen. They were just sitting at home, minding their own business. And a grilled-egg vendor who lived in another unit of the building. (The English-language papers have been sure to add that hyphen in “grilled-egg vendor,” lest the phrase be mistaken for something else in this context, heh.)
There have actually been dozens of bombings in and around the city since the riots in May, but this is the worst one. Of course, this was probably the equivalent of several bombs that went off – the force of the blast caused the building to subside slightly, and they say if it subsides ant further, there’s a risk of the whole thing collapsing. He was supposedly responsible for at least some of those other bombs, which seem to have generally been aimed at specific government-linked targets, like the Office of the Attorney General or a deputy prime minister’s house, and not intended to cause general mayhem. One did go off in July, however, near a bus stop across from CentralWorld, which was torched in May, and that one entailed the only death before this latest blast, although there have been injuries.
I just hope Mr. Asshat knew it was coming and that it did not take him completely unawares. He should have had an “Oh No!” moment, even if it lasted only a second, in which he knew he had screwed up big time and what was about to happen.