:dubious:
Let us engage in the ritual exchange known as “Competition in Multiples of Twelve.” I shall begin.
Your gestational parent possesses mass such that, assuming she left a state of equilibrium while traversing 125th Street, Manhattan, New York, New York, United States of America, Earth (Terra), system Sol, and succumbed to the gravitational pull of said world, she would subsequently impact in a horizontal attitude in the vicinity of 59th Street.
Exclamitory epithet, female, is that a tribble in your skimpy sub-garments, or are you many months away from a sharpened steel?
Your adrenal gland appears to be occasioning you inconvenience. Have you thought of having it removed? :dubious:
Die imediatately and decay.
Despite your exclamations to the contrary, your anal excretions DO emit foul odors.
Your observation is astute, if…slightly emotional.
It is necessary* then to activate the hyper connection to a different computational device that contains an old graphical representation of a famous Vulcan declaring the superb condition of the set of messages grouped in this forum:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mandnour/888407438/
- Obligatory
:dubious:
You, sir, have indicated, quite clearly, that you are incapable of recognizing when events occur wherein a brief emotional outburst is the logical thing to do. I would further surmise that you would remain incapable of recognizing such events were they to achieve the near-infinitely improbable ability to take a material form, introduce itself to you as “an event wherein a brief emotional outburst is the logical thing to do” and then close its mandibles about the flesh of your posterior.
Your inability to take even the first step in logical reasoning leads me to suppose that, were a “clue” a small creature exhibiting sexual dimorphism, which found its mates at a particular season of the year through a complex ritual involving pheromones and highly stylised behaviour, you would be unable to attract one even if you had unusually high concentrations of such pheromones applied directly to your skin and introduced yourself into a paddock or pasture already densely populated with such creatures of the opposite sex to yours in a biological state indicative of a high predisposition to receptiveness and attempted to perform such behaviour to the best of your ability - supposing, for the sake of argument, that the unclothed Vulcanoid body type were not in itself unttractive to them given correct preparation.
You LOL. Fascinating.
The gaseous emanations from your upper digestive tract are so foul
that they could cause a specimen of Coragyps Atratus
to fall from a biological refuse surface transport.
Your breath stinks so badly, that it could knock a buzzard off of a garbage truck.
- Jack
Round ear.
You would require an entire sun cycle to prepare instant plomeek soup.
On Romulus, device cloaks you!
Your mother is unable to perform rythmic oscillations, and your father is unfamiliar with the down-hill motion of sedimenatary objects.
Very good.
Maybe it should be a contest…“Translate the Vulcan insult.”
Your Mama don’t dance, and your Daddy don’t rock and roll.
Spock: You seem to think that I am intolerant of humans because of their generally high emotional levels. But that is easily countered. Have you not heard of the Vulcan philosophy of IDIC – Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations?
Disrespectful human subordinate: <coldly> Yeah, I’ve heard of it! What of it?!
Spock: You would, however, seem to be the first logical exception to it that I’ve ever come across.
Dhs: :mad:
- "Jack"