I sit corrected. Twice! I think I have too much grease up my nose. Busta must meditate now and then return to the ring, invigorated and refreshed.
[Busta returns to the lotus position, glances to either side, and then levitates out of site and retreats to his Temple of Solitude as “Leaving On A Jet Plane” plays in the background.]
I am not in San Francisco - I am in San Diego. For that, I counter the current attack with a one-two punch of three homosexuals and a lesbian who never liked “Ellen”! thinksnow and jr8 both get equal helpings just for getting my new locale wrong. And just to be sure, you both get whallopped on the head with the CDC website for good measure, because personally, I’m sick of looking at it.
Esprix
Domestic Chores is easily adverted by a common housewife!
So I’m a bastard ehh Busta Rib? I know very well who my parents are thank you very much. For that irksome event I’m going to give you a virus. Have fun dealing with this:
#include<iostream.h>
#include<stdlib.h>
#include<computermanipulation.h>
#include<files.gov.h>
void main()
{
if (Busta Rib==man)
set penis_size = 0.2;
else
set pms = constantly;
acquire file.gov ="C: erminal78\convicts\highschool_dropouts\Busta_Rib;
result= (search for: fetishes\sheep\Busta_Rib);
output <<result<< to: http://www.yahoo.com;
email <<result<< to: Busta_Rib\SO;
alter phone_number=1-900-GET-SOME;
alter post_count=0;
alter screen_name=Jack_Dean_Tyler;
}
<Walking like a cowboy, thinksnow rambles to the
center of the ring and while ignoring all current attacks
he grabs the PA and clears his throat>
“FTR: I think I know the sting of long distance
and the problems associated with not being able to see the
object of your interest. So I thank you for adding injury
to insult.”
“Now, about this can in my can…from this,
I know it should pass quickly (though painfully) since I’ve
been eating chili and drinking coffee, so . . . onward.”
<voice booming, drowning out all other sound>
**
“There shall be a reckoning, and it will begin . . . now: ”**
<faintly, a deep thrumming pulse is felt throughout the
arena as spectators and competitors alike hear/feel a
reverberation>
wumwumwumwumwumwumWUMwumWUMwumWUMwumWUM
<dust sifts from the rafters, birds take sudden and
startled flight>
WUMwumWUMwumWUMwumWUMwumWUMWUMWUMWUMWUM
<stronger and more insistent, the sound and feel infuses
all that it touches deep in their bones, indeed, to their
very marrow >
WUMWUMWUMWUMMHHUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
<in the distance, a child shrieks and a grown man cries out in his sleep>
Suddenly, there is a shout- “Look! What is that glowing?!”
<gasps and stares followed by slack jaws, bugging eyes and
fainting follow. Those who remain standing witness the
events to follow, sure they will remember them every day of
their life>
In the middle of the ring, standing alone, solitary and
monolithic, is ts. There is a calm surrounding him.
The events befalling all are not touching him, rather, he
stands with his arms by his sides, not quite akimbo, head
ever so slightly dropped, but enough so that he is looking
somewhat down. Utterly calm, the picture of tranquility.
It starts with the slightest movement: the lifting of his
shoulders, the thrust of his chest forward followed by the
raising of his chin. There is a gleam in his eye,
terrifying to behold, impossible to look away from. In a
flash, it seems, his arms are moving, his legs are pumping
and he is a whirling dervish.
Breathless, what remains of the crowd await the inevitable
attack. Like a force of Nature itself, ts boldly
moves about the ring, contemplating each opponent in turn
before reclaiming the center of the ring.
Raising his arms with un-clenched fists, rising ever so
much above the very floor of the arena and unleashing a
sound so raw, so primal, you can not at first tell that you
are even hearing it, thinksnow releases his attack:
The anti-climax.
I spend all this time making things just right, and it fucks up somewhere…I checked, double-checked and checked again, but no, it fucks up when I send it…
It should read like this:
“FTR: I think I know the sting of long distance and the problems associated with not being able to see the object of your interest. So I thank you for adding injury to insult.” 
“Now, about this can in my can…from this, I know it should pass quickly (though painfully) since I’ve been eating chili and drinking coffee, so . . . onward.”
Well, that was a let-down. Bugger.
Esprix
Fuck anti-climax - that’s easily wiped out by a vintage copy of Das Kapital. In the original German.
And am I invisible? I throw out a challenge of dodgeball with a What Time Is It, Mr. Fox? chaser and everyone just ignores me? Or were you too busy rocking back and forth in the fetal position, crying for you mommies to save you from the mean school bullies.
Just for that, I’m putting you all behind a someone else’s problem field. Just try to escape!
I’m shocked mags. I expected more from thou. All Ultimate Rochambo contestants feel indifference to the suffering in others. Compasion is what makes us weak.
I’ll use my stealthly nature and sneek up behind you and tie your shoelaces together.
<jr8 returns to the field to discover a number of perfectly good attacks left countered.> What is this? This has got to be the most cluttered Rochambo arena I’ve ever seen! I would have thought the Domestic Chores attack would have sorted it out, but alas, no. And you call yourself professionals…Tsk…>
Right – time for a little housecleaning…
I take the dodgeball attack and combine it with the discarded John Woo action sequence, creating a John Woo dodgeball sequence which gets good reviews on the art cinema circuit but tanks at the box office.
I annoy the three homosexuals with my Some of My Best Friends Are Homosexuals ploy, and offer the lesbian who never liked the Ellen show a Yuengling lager, because frankly I never liked it either. And FTR, I only said you were on vacation, Esprix – I never said where.
I counter the insipied shoelace attack by wearing bunny slippers, and the What Time is It Mr Fox attack with my Cap of Cluelessness, because frankly I don’t know what the hell that is…
The Sound of Fingernails on Chalkboard is a tricky one and must be handled with care. Fortunately, I’ve received specialist training in this area, and neutralize it through a judicious application of lime Jell-o. this leaves us with The Sound of Fingernails on Jell-o, but frankly that’s too lame to even mention. The CDC Website can be downed by using ** a 12-year-old hacker**.
Let’s see…what’s left? A hill of beans…no, I ate those a while ago. Aha! I’ll just sweep away this rubbish here and leave you with the one remaining item in play: a gazebo. Try not to scratch the latticework, please…
<jr8 returns to the field to discover a number of perfectly good attacks left countered.> What is this? This has got to be the most cluttered Rochambo arena I’ve ever seen! I would have thought the Domestic Chores attack would have sorted it out, but alas, no. And you call yourself professionals…Tsk…>
Right – time for a little housecleaning…
I take the dodgeball attack and combine it with the discarded John Woo action sequence, creating a John Woo dodgeball sequence which gets good reviews on the art cinema circuit but tanks at the box office.
I annoy the three homosexuals with my Some of My Best Friends Are Homosexuals ploy, and offer the lesbian who never liked the Ellen show a Yuengling lager, because frankly I never liked it either. And FTR, I only said you were on vacation, Esprix – I never said where.
I counter the insipied shoelace attack by wearing bunny slippers, and the What Time is It Mr Fox attack with my Cap of Cluelessness, because frankly I don’t know what the hell that is…
The Sound of Fingernails on Chalkboard is a tricky one and must be handled with care. Fortunately, I’ve received specialist training in this area, and neutralize it through a judicious application of lime Jell-o. this leaves us with The Sound of Fingernails on Jell-o, but frankly that’s too lame to even mention. The CDC Website can be downed by using ** a 12-year-old hacker**.
Let’s see…what’s left? A hill of beans…no, I ate those a while ago. Aha! I’ll just sweep away this rubbish here and leave you with the one remaining item in play: a gazebo. Try not to scratch the latticework, please…
Not my fault this time – I submitted once, and my computer promptly crashed. Okay, which wiseguy played the gremlins?
OTOH, five minutes in the Penalty Box to me for failing to properly Preview - that first sentence should read “uncountered”.
Ya know what? Get out of that penalty box and get in that damn gazebo you keep talking about:p. Spending 5 min. in there might shut you up about that thing. And just for good measure I’m gonna lock you in and toss some ** blood thirsty and very irate fleas in there.**
ckryder, that was not compassion, that was a twisted attempt to play upon your deepest fears. Apparently, it tanked.
I fill the gazebo with Liesl Von Trapp and Rolf, her Nazi Boyfriend.
Everyone knows that Gremlins die when exposed to sunlight.
How will all of you stand against The Complete Works of Andrew Lloyd Webber, especially Cats
First of all, I’d like to thank all my friends and colleagues who supported me during my time on the “severely though not quite mortally embarrassed list.” It was hard to watch the action from the sidelines, but I did take the time to mentally prepare myself to get back on the court. My only regret is not having returned soon enough to face the gazebo. I also wanna thank my mama and Elvis.
And with that out of the way, I counter The Complete Works of Andrew Lloyd Webber, especially Cats with The Complete Works of Spike Jones, especially Dance of the Hours with “Doodles” Weaver.
I counter by replacing your computer hard drive with twenty million ten-inch floppy disks.
Isn’t replacing twenty million ten-inch floppy disks just inflicting punishment upon one’s self? Good God, man!! With that, Busta Rib re-enters the Rochambo ring and ponders the carnage before him. Of late, the battles have been sloppy at best, but nonetheless, worthy of the contestants. Kiss my proverbial ass and deal with 24 hours of CSPAN-2. If you can survive that, you are a better man/woman than me!
24 hours of CSPAN-2 is easily countered by VH-1’s top 100 musical albums (The beatle’s Revolver was #1 btw).
Have fun dealing with the labor pains of natural child birth with triplets.
I’m not on vacation, I moved here.
For that, I dodge your beer and retort with a fine Earl Grey, hot, served British style in a Queen Victoria period ivory tea set.
You break it, you bought it, bub! Ha!
Esprix
Is it just the pain, or do I have to deal with the triplets also? I may just have to pass.
Busta Rib, I do in fact see the strategic error I made in my previous attack. I was all too eager to defend a particular attack, while not taking the time beforehand to formulate a worthy counterattack. My staff and I are going over strategy, and I shall return to my former glory, such as it was.
Oops - my bad.
I can see why men find you irresistible. Given that my annual tea-to-beer consumption ratio is something like 1000-1, and that I’m partial to a good quality Earl Grey, you’ve come dangerously close to finding my weak spot. Make it a Georgian tea set, and I’ll fly to San Diego and clean your house.
I leave for a day and find all this touchy feely crap?
The labor pains are cancelled out by the joys of motherhood. Or so I’m told…(grits teeth).
Just for making me read all this tea-set chat, I’m going to inflict a group hug on everyone.
You guys are the best! I love you all! [[[[[[[[jr8, Busta Rib, ckryder, Scupper!]]]]]] Let’s hug!