A_SUITABLE_CASE_FOR_TREATMENT

What?

Tue, 19 Sep 2006 22:17:53 GMT

Once again the muslim world erupts into violence over the Popes observation that Islam is a violent faith. Am I missing something?

Sex Dolls

Tue, 19 Sep 2006 22:13:10 GMT

bob: spunky brewster?
peter: HMM
peter: I SENT YOU A NERD EMAIL
peter: ITS IMPORTANT
bob: you left out the vowls, you spell it 'homo'
peter: YOU HMMMMM
bob: so should I like go read it or something?
peter: Y SCK DCKS
bob: I fucking hate aol, is it too much to ask a service provider to allow me to read a fucking email without my computer setting on fire
peter: DUDE ISP'S ARE FUCKING WITH DIAL UP CONNECTIONS - IT'S TRUE - THEY WANT BROADBAND USERS, THEY'VE INVESTED, AND DUMB PEOPLE STILL USING DIAL UP NEED THERE HEADS UNSCREWING FOR BEING TECHNOPHOBIC OR FARMERS
bob: thanks for the support Satan
bob: I read your email, Ive been thinking a lot about that lately, you know, when I'm not contemplating suicide
bob: what I'm saying, when you came right down to it is this, your email made me sad and want to die
peter: MY PLEASURE
bob: Your welcome
peter: DID YOU KNOW DDR2 MEMORY IS A HOAX TOO?
peter: WHERE AS DDR1 X400 IS BETTER
bob: did I know? how couldn't I, I thought everybody knew
peter: THEY WILL
bob: are you watching the program on the sex dolls?
peter: NO - WHICH CHANNEL
bob: and I thought I was strange
peter: - DON'T HAVE ANY DILLUSIONS - YOU ARE VERY STRANGE
bob: thanks
peter: IT'S A GOOD THING
bob: it is the best of things, infact its even better than that
peter: YES, THERE ARE STRANGE PEOPLE AT WORK, BUT THEY MAKE ME TIRED TOO QUICKLY, THEY CAN BE PIGEON-HOLED, WHERE AS YOU BROTHER - ARE SPECIAL
bob: I thought we were all special, like corn flakes
peter: OR RETINAS OR FINGERPRINTS OR TURDS
bob: my turds are way special
bob: you know, this conversation is of such high quality that I'm going to print it off and send it to prospective employers inplace of my cv
bob: I'm also going to spunk in the envelope

The amazing life of sponges

Fri, 09 Jun 2006 02:42:53 GMT

While I'm here.................
If you take 5 different species of sponges, put them in a blender, swoosh them all up into a big sponge soup. Then pour the soup into a tank of salt water, the sponges will separate back into there own species reform themselves and continue to live and grow. How fucking cool are sponges????

Quotes

Fri, 09 Jun 2006 02:33:01 GMT

"We've heard that a million monkeys at a million keyboards could produce the complete works of Shakespeare; now, thanks to the Internet, we know that is not true."

Robert Wilensky

"The most preposterous notion that H. Sapiens have ever dreamed up
is that Lord God of Creation, Shaper and Ruler of all the Universes,
wants the saccharine adoration of His creatures, can be swayed by their prayers,
and becomes petulant if He does not receive this flattery. Yet this absurd fantasy,
without a shred of evidence to bolster it, pays all the expenses of the oldest,
largest, and least productive industry in all history."

Robert A. Heinlein

Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us.

Bill Watterson

Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to all other countries because you were born in it.

George Bernard Shaw

"God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference"

Reinhold Niebuhr

"The ideals which have lighted my way, and time after time have given me new courage to face life cheerfully, have been Kindness, Beauty, and Truth. The trite subjects of human efforts, possessions, outward success, luxury have always seemed to me contemptible."

Albert Einstein

Anyone who says violence never solves anything strikes me as very ignorant. Violence has solved more problems than anything else in the history of mankind, and as far as I can tell, that record will remain intact as long as we walk the earth.

Robert A. Heinlein

I wouldn't recomend drugs, sex, violence or insanity to anyone else, but I have to say, they've always worked for me.

Hunter S. Thompson

"If you marry, you will regret it; if you do not marry, you will also regret it;...whether you marry or do not marry, you will regret both. Laugh at the world's follies, you will regret it; weep over them, you will regret that; laugh at the world's follies or weep over them, you will regret both...believe a woman, you will regret it, believe her not, you will also regret that; believe a woman or believe her not, you will regret both...Hang yourself, you will regret it, do not hang yourself, and you will also regret that; hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret both...This, gentlemen, is the sum and substance of all philosophy."

Keirkegaard

"And even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own dispair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God"

Aeschylus

"What contemptible swine has stolen the cork from my lunch?"

W.C. Fields

"If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live."

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

As a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool returns to his folly.

Proverbs 26:11

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life? You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."

Neil Gaima

txt Glory Hole

Sun, 23 Apr 2006 01:52:17 GMT

peter: ARE YOU WITH US SPOCK? CAN YOU HEAR US?
bobincuk: I am and will always be
peter: WILL YOU DO THY BIDDING>
bobincuk: that really depends upon what your bidding is?
peter: YOU MUST ACT AS A MASK TO MY INSINCERITY
bobincuk: insincerity I can do
bobincuk: and wouldn't that be a mirror?
peter: ONLY IF YOU HAD MY THOUGHTS TO DISASSAMVBLEW
peter: FAT FINGERS
bobincuk: you must take off the mitons
peter: ALWAYS, WITHOUT THE MITTONS, AS I RECALL THE MITTENS WERE UNPLEASANRT
bobincuk: it doesn't matter how you spell them take them off
peter: EAT IT RAW WEBLEYT
bobincuk: ok enough of this silliness, how are you today?
peter: DISTURBED, BY THE LACK OF PORN REALTING TO MY REALISATION OF THE POSSIBILITY OF PORN. DID YOU ENJOY THE LACK OF ATTENTION TO DETAIL?
bobincuk: I'm not sure what you mean, but I'll take a guess at yes, very much thanks for asking
peter: LET MY ASSIMILATE, A PORN MOVIE WHERE THE GEEK TAKES THE POLISH CLEANER INTO THE TOILET AND SPIVS UP HER IN A MOST COLONIAL WAY
peter: MAKES HER CRY AND COME BACK FOR MORE, I AM REALIING A REALITY THAT MAY EXIST
bobincuk: I think this senario is only ever going to exsist in your mind
peter: DUDE, DONT DESTROY IT, APPARENTLY THEY DONT FLINCH, INFACT GENETICALLY THE G-SPOT OF EASTERN EUROPEANS IS 2 INCHES UP THEIR ASSHOLE.
bobincuk: this is a belief perpitrated by gay people, don't be gay people
peter: IT IS DIFFICULT, I AM IN A SPECIFIC INTEREST ZONE, AND UNLESS I CAN FIND MARY POPPINS SPITTING A SHOT LOAD OVER HER KNEES FOR A DWARF TO COME AN CLEAN UP WITH HER 4 BREASTS, IT WONT FIRE THE MAGIC STAFF OF SLEEP, YET I SEARCH ON, FINDIND REPLICA'S OF SOMETHING NOT SUPPLIED BY THE CONGLOMERATE PORN MACHINE
bobincuk: would you believe I was looking for the very same thing
peter: LET ME RE ASSEMBLE THIS FOR YOU, THE HOT 40 YEAR OLD DIDNT BLOW ME IN THE SERVER ROOM, SHE DIDNT EVEN SUGGEST IT
bobincuk: I know not of hot 40 y/o
peter: IT IS A DIFFICULT CONCEPT
peter: IAMGINE HER AS ITS MUM]
peter: PUMPING YOU FF
bobincuk: I don't think the concept of pumping my own mother is going to help reawaken my failing intrest in porn or for that matter anything else
bobincuk: or were you talking about your mother?
bobincuk: because to be honest that might work
peter: BOB, YOU MISS THE POINT, WHEN YOU'RE IN A SEA OF 40+, YOU PICK THE ONES OUT THAT INTREST YU THE MOST, IN THIS CASE WITH VIRTUAL WANKING OF THE SEREBRAM CORTEX
peter: IM NOT ENCOURAGING YOUR MUM TO TIE CHERRYS INTO KNOTS UP MY ASSHOLE.
bobincuk: thanks for clearing that up, was that a yes or no to me pumping your Mom?
peter: YOU WANT MY MUM?
bobincuk: is she on offer?
peter: MY STEP-DAD WOULD PREFER IT IN A GLORY HOLE
bobincuk: again, the conversation has peaked
peter: NEVER GETS BEYOND THE GLORY HOLR
bobincuk: things seldom do, it is an excellent formular
peter: UNTIL YOU REALISE THE POSSIBILITY THAT YOUR UNCLE IS ON ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PLYBOARD
bobincuk: never trust a man with plyboard thats what i say
peter: INDEED
peter: DUDE,
peter: THINGS
peter: HAVE COME TO PASS
bobincuk: yes, passed they have, lake water breaking on rocks
bobincuk: today I'm going to be useing the letter "A" for all my vowls
peter: COOL, OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CANT GET GOLLIETH TO SLING HIS SLINSHOT WITHOUT EXTREME KNIGHTRIDERISM
peter: I'M OFF TO HARRY CARRY MY UNDERWEAR OR I;LL BE MISUNDESTOOD AGAIN TOMORROW
bobincuk: its always best to get it out of your system before encountering the public
peter: OH GOD YES, YES, YEEEEEEESSSSSS, YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
bobincuk: I think you typed that in the wrong box, the other box is John
peter: NEIT COMPRENDEA, WHOOOOOO ARE YOU NIGGER, GET AWAY FROM MY BOX JEW BOY, YOU STINK OF KIKE WOP ASS
bobincuk: Pete, despite what you may believe, you are not Hitler

txt Bondage Nun

Sun, 23 Apr 2006 01:22:24 GMT

peter: YOU SUCK BALLS
bobincuk: who sucks balls?
peter: AH, ROBERT, HOW ARE YOU THIS EVENING?
bobincuk: I'm very well Sir, and your good self?
peter: UPSET, THE WEB PAGES ARE CONSPIRING TO RUIN MY PC AGAIN
bobincuk: you have wonderd from the path of rightousness
peter: SEEMINGLY SO, AND I'M USUALLY SO CAUTIOUS
bobincuk: the path is long and the gate is wide that leadeth to temptation
peter: YES, BUT IT WASN'T EXACTLY THE BURNING BUSH I FOUND, MORE OF A SMOKING OAP
bobincuk: I'm sick of crap porn, I download it constantly, review and delete
bobincuk: Review and delete
bobincuk: Review and delete, ad nausium
peter: IT IS A FAMILIAR TALE, EXCEPT I DISMISS CONTINUE THE SEARCH, I DISMISS
peter: I HAVE TO MAKE ONE RECOMMENDATION OF A VIEWING.
bobincuk: ?
peter: SOUTH PARK SERIES 8, EPISODE A.W.E.S.O.M-0
peter: IT IS WITHOUT QUESTION THE FINEST EPISODE EVERY WRITTEN
bobincuk: which one is it?
peter: I WATCHED IT 7 TIMES IN 3 DAYS, AND THE MIRTH DID NOT END
bobincuk: that indeed sounds like a great discovery
peter: CARTMAN DRESSES UP AS A ROBOT PRESENT FOR BUTTERS
bobincuk: what format is it?
peter: I HAVE IT ON XVID
bobincuk: could it be converted to vcd?
peter: INDEED
peter: I HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY
peter: THE WISDOM IS MINE
peter: HAVE YOU A 4 DAY EASTER WEEKEND LIKE MYSELF?
bobincuk: no I bloody well don't
bobincuk: aparently Jesus didn't die for my sins
bobincuk: my sins are too great for Jesus
peter: WERE YOU HIMMLER IN A FORMER LIFE?
bobincuk: I doubt I would have had such fortune
bobincuk: I was probably Ann Frank
peter: DO YOU REMEMBER HAVING TITS, AND 2 ASSHOLES
bobincuk: briefly, but then she left
bobincuk: and took her tits and assholes with her
bobincuk: left me nothing to play with
bobincuk: apart from this massive cock
peter: IS THIS A BIG MESSAGE
bobincuk: Who knows, he works in mysterious ways
peter: SORRY, PC BROKE
bobincuk: I think god keeps booting you off yahoo
bobincuk: he doesn't want us to combine are power
peter: OR TALK ABOUT H1MML3R
peter: OK - WHATS A GOOD CLEAN SITE FOR SPECIAL PORN, AND BY SPECIAL, I DONT MEAN WHO CHARLTON HUNG OUT WITH
bobincuk: you'll have to more clearly define "special porn"?
peter: AS IN EVERYTHING THAT WE SEEK AS INTELLIGENT AND WELL ROUNDED HUMAN BEINGS
bobincuk: if I knew of such a sorce, do you think I'd have time to chat to you?
peter: SLUTS WITH BREASTS WITH BLACK SOCKS, WITH SOME ASS FINGERING, MAYBE SOME OTHER SLUTS FEEDING THEM WORMS AND SUCH
bobincuk: can't say I'm familure with that
peter: YOU'RE JUST A INTERNET PORN TOURIST AREN'T YOU?
bobincuk: aparently so
bobincuk: I'm down to masturbating over Pheobe Cates videos, Ive lost all faith in the internet
peter: AH I SEE, THAT MAKES ME PRETTY LAME, I CANT FIND A VIDEO TO DO THAT TO, I REALLY CANT
bobincuk: thats because I have your Pheobe Cates video's
bobincuk: you need a copy of clueless
peter: AH YES, OR ZAPPED
bobincuk: Peter, is zapped the new little witches?
peter: NO, NOT EVEN CLOSE
bobincuk: I'm telling you, clueless is the way to go
peter: WHO IS PETER, I AM THE GHOST WITH NO NAME, YOU MAY ONLY CALL ME BY SUCH NAME, OH WAIT, MY EMAIL ADDRESS GIVES IT AWAY
bobincuk: yes, as does the fact that you apear on messenger as peter
peter: GOD DAMN IT
peter: WHAT ABOUT GHOSTBUSTERS
bobincuk: I can't think of anything to wank over in ghostbusters despite its cunning use of the word busters in the title
peter: THERE WAS A BIG MARSH MELLOW MAN, I SUPPOSE YOU COULD HAVE HIM PRETTY MUCH ANYWHERE WHERE THERE WAS NO HAT
bobincuk: are you free at the weekend or will you be locked in your matrimonial cage?
peter: NO SATURDAY WILL BE DAY OF SPLENDOUR, IT WILL BE WARM OUTSIDE, AND WE WILL BE ON LIKE A VACATION
bobincuk: to a delightful weekend in the country then
peter: CHIN CHIN
peter: I GOT SOME CHICKEN FOR SALE, ARE YOU HUNGRY?
bobincuk: is this another ploy to get me to put your cock in my mouth?
peter: NO SIR-EE,
bobincuk: ok then, how much?
peter: NO ITS CRASHING
bobincuk: your chickens crashing? good god, whatever next?
peter: SORRY, I'LL NEVER STRAY FROM THE PATH AGAIN, I WAS ONLY A 3RD HOP OUT FROM THE TRUSTED ZONE
bobincuk: thats all it takes
bobincuk: run spy bot and ad aware
peter: IM ONE STEP AHEAD OF YOU
bobincuk: yeah, you know more about it than I
peter: NOT REALLY, GOD I HATE IT, WHY RUIN IT, WHATS THE POINT, ILL HAVE TO SETTLE FOR THIS THEN...
bobincuk: the first rule of perv club is never settle
peter: OR THIS
bobincuk: the second rule of perv clud is never settle
peter: I SEE A RECURRING THEME HERE
bobincuk: I know, I could have continued, but I thought, ah, whats the point
peter: SO SAD THAT ENTHUSIASM CURBS SO EASILY
bobincuk: its not sad, thats life
peter: DO YOU LIKE THE BONDAGE NUN?
bobincuk: ?
bobincuk: I know not of bondage nun
peter: THE FILES I SENT YOU?
bobincuk: files?
peter: IT SEEMS YAHOO HAS FOOKED UP YET ANOTHER SEEMINGLY EASY TASK, NEVERMIND
bobincuk: it appears so, do not morn the bondage nun, I doubt she would have got the apriciation she deserved at this end
peter: NO..........
peter: WHERE TO SATURDAY THEN?
bobincuk: the world is our oyster
peter: INDEED
peter: M THEN
bobincuk: M it is
peter: GROOVY
bobincuk: have you watched any of the second or third series of game on?
peter: NOT SINCE THEY WERE SHOW
bobincuk: me niether, I'm watching them now, there not the same without ben chapman
peter: I REMEMBER THE DISAPPOINTMENT, BUT THE SHOW MUST GO ON, THERE WERE IDEAS YET TO BE EXPLORES, SMANTHA JANUS IN SCHOOL UNIFORM....... MY WORD
bobincuk: does that happen?
peter: YES
peter: YES
peter: YES
peter: YEEEEEESSSSSSSS
bobincuk: well, fortune once again shines on Bob
peter: DOES THIS MEAN YOU'LL SPEND THE WHOLE NIGHT SCANNING THE EPISODES, OR ARE YOU DOING THAT AS WE SPEAK?
bobincuk: nah, I'll catch it when it falls, all things to he who waits
peter: HOW WELL RESTRAINED YOU ARE
bobincuk: I've seen too much porn of late
peter: THIS COULD BE A GOOD THING, EXPLORE YOUR SPIRITUAL SIDE FOR A WHILE, SEE WHAT GOODIES YOU FIND, LIKE, NEEDING BEER ALL OF A SUDDEN
bobincuk: its kinda got boring
peter: .BORING...........
bobincuk: nah, I mean it gets the job done, its just not terribly exciting
peter: I FEEL THE SAME WAY ABOUT DRINKING VODKA
peter: DRINK, SLEEP, WANK, PLAYING QUAKE VARIENTS, IS THERE ANYTHING MORE?
bobincuk: Nothing as far as I can see, we should invent something.........
peter: WHAT IF WE MADE A REALITY TV SHOW, WHERE A BUNCH OF GUYS SHARE THEIR LIVES WITH THE PUBLIC, WE COULD SHAME ALL THOSE MORONS WITH OUR NEED TO SPRAY CORNFLOUR 4 TIMES A DAY, 8 ON A WEEKEND
bobincuk: I somehow don't think that would make for great tv
peter: WHY NOT, BIG BROTHER IS RUBBISH BY COMPARISON, THEY COULD HAVE HARD ON-OFFS, BY PRANCING A-LEVEL STUDENTS IN DOROTHY COSTUMES AS A POST DINNER TIME 'TASK'
peter: THE LOSER IS THE LAST TO RE-ADJUST HIS TRUST
bobincuk: read what you've just written then go sit in the corner
peter: UP YOURS SQUARE MR PRISS YOU SICKEN ME
bobincuk: face the wall
peter: YOUD LIKE THAT, ME WITH MY FACE AGAINST THE WALL, HAVING MY REAR EXPOSED, YOU ARE THE HARVESTER OF DREAM RIMMINGS
bobincuk: I find your preocupation with rimming disturbing
peter: HOW WERE YOUR DIVERSION MOTION PICTURES>
bobincuk: ?
peter: THE POOR QUALITY MOVIES?
bobincuk: the porn movies?
peter: NO JERK OFF, BARBARELLA, AND GREESE 2........
bobincuk: what the fuck are you going on about?
peter: OK LAMER, TTTTHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEE PPPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVVVVVVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS,...................................................................................................
bobincuk: they were ssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
peter: THEY SURE WERE, AND I ONLY SKIMMED THEM IN UNDER A MINUTE, I PREFERED THE SPUNK GARGLING VIDEO MYSELF
peter: I LIKED THE BIT WHERE THE HOUSEWIFE FORCED THE BABYSITTERS FACE INTO HER VAGINA WHILST SHE WORE A SUMMER DRESS, SHE HAD LABIA LIKE A SLOPPILY MADE BACON SANDWICH
bobincuk: I must have missed that bit
peter: BUT THEN SHE TOOK THREE LOADS OF GOOP SPAT FED THEM DOWN FROM HER SITTING POSITION ONTO THE BACON SANDWICH, THEN THE BABYSITTER GAGGED AND WRETCHED AND CRIED AS SHE WAS MADE TO EAT THE SPILLED RICE PUDDING
peter: IT SURE WAS SWEET
bobincuk: I don't think that actually happend
peter: MAYBE THAT WAS ANOTHER FILM
peter: THE
peter: ONE
peter: WHERE
peter: I
peter: WAS ALL THREE STUNT COCKS
peter: ..............SEE WHAT YOU MADE ME DO............
bobincuk: I guess if you stare at the wall for long enough you can see all sorts of things
peter: YOU SURE CAN
peter:BBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB
bobincuk: ppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeettttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
peter: I HAVE TO GO NOW AND BREAK TIME INTO FRAGMENTS OF SLEEP
bobincuk: thats what you're calling it these days is it
peter: SADLY YES,ALTHOUGH I AM OFF, MY DUTIES AS CHOFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEUR NEVER END

txt sock

Sat, 22 Apr 2006 02:27:25 GMT

bobincuk: Is there anybody out there?
peter: ONLY THE SICK AND THE INSANE
bobincuk: its what was expected
bobincuk: are you busy oh perverted one or do you require time to yourself?
peter: NO I'M ELIMINATING SOUTH PARK EPISODES IVE SEEN, IT SEEMS IVE SEEN MOST
bobincuk: I think at this point we've seen almost everything
peter: ALMOST DOESNT COUNT
bobincuk: sometimes it almost dose
peter: DID YOU GET THROUGH YOUR VIDOES?
peter: WHAT WAS THE BEST?
bobincuk: my request were strange, I don't know quite what I was expecting
peter: WELL CURIOSITY KILLED.............CURIOUSITY KILLED
bobincuk: god I am so bored
peter: SO VERY BORED, KNOW YOU A CURE BEYOND VIBRATING IN A NON-VIBRATING CHAIR?
bobincuk: it seems a cure is out of my grasp and seeing as how you are my only contact with inteligence, I fear for my soul
peter: RIP IT OUT AND SHIT ON IT, IT WILL DO YOU NO FAVOURS HERE
bobincuk: sometimes Pete I wonder if shiting on things is your solution to every problem
peter: APPARENTLY SHITTING DOWN SWANS NECKS MAKES YOU VERY COOL AND ATTRACTIVE TO YOUNG GOTHS
bobincuk: well that would admittedly take some skill
peter: NOT REALLY, MAYBE A SMEAR ON THE BEAK IF NEARLY ENOUGH
bobincuk: can't say its a practice Ive looked into, shiting on swans that is, obviously Im an expert on young goths
peter: OK EXPERT, HAVE YOU TAPPED A SOURCE OF THE GOTH ZOMBIE?
bobincuk: aparently there to be found in Germany
peter: ROB, HAVE YOU FOUND ME A POLISH GIRL READY FOR EXTREME ORIFICE PUNISHMENT,
bobincuk: although I can comprehend the genius of your sugestion, I am sadly lacking in the zombie department, besides Jen's a Czech not Polish
peter: SURELY YOU REACH EXHAUSTION, WHERE THE INTERNET WOULD BE YOUR ONLY SOURCE OF GRATIFICATION, GEEZ I'D SHARE SOME MILF I PERSUADED TO LET ME BRUISE HER GOOSH
bobincuk: well, thanks, but I'm not sure I'd want to sleep with one of you cast offs
bobincuk: I haven't reached those dizzying hights just yet
peter: QUITE
peter: SO YOU WOULDNT TOSS MY SALAD AFTER HAVING YOUR WAY WITH IVANA FUKALOT
peter: I STILL HAVE THE 6BY3 PLASTERBOARD WITH THE HOLE IN IT
bobincuk: now please do not take this the wrong way, but Pete I wouldn't toss your salad no matter what the situation
peter: YOUR MUM ENJOYED IT
peter: AS DID YOUR NEPHEWS
bobincuk: thankfully it isn't heredatory
bobincuk: did you enjoy it Pete......................did you enjoy it?
peter: OF COURSE, I WAS LISTENING TO RADIOHEAD, AND SOME ONE ATE MY WEINER AND PROVIDED BIDET SERVICE
bobincuk: I think you have finally scraped through the bottom of one barrel and fallen straight through to barrel below
bobincuk: I'm talking of the "radiohead" refrence
peter: YOU DONT APPRECIATE GREAT ART?
peter: DO YOU WANT SOME CHEESE ON TAOST?
bobincuk: I cannot believe you could equate radiohead with any kind of art, and yes please to the cheese on toast
peter: WITH MUSHROOMS, HAM, ONIONS, TOMATO, MORE CHEESE, AND CONDIMENTS?
bobincuk: wow, its like a dream come true
peter: IF ONLY THERE WERE TELEPORTATION, AND SOME KIND DUDE NOT OFFERING CHEESE BASED SNACK FORTIFIED WITH WINGNUTS
bobincuk: if only
bobincuk: well I think I shall go and reward my worthless internet fumblings with a bean feast
peter: YOU BEAN LICKER
peter: YOUR, LIKE, MY MUMS DREAM
bobincuk: just once a conversation without refrence to licking, shiting, my Nephews or your arse
bobincuk: JUST ONCE!
peter: I LOVE YOU ROBERT YOU KNOW THAT, I HAVE TO GO AND BAKE MY VEG AND POUR POISON INTO MY FLESH, THEN I WILL STILL HAVE THIS TO SAY, GO GET ME SOME LITTLE HOES, SO I CAN HOE MY GARDEN , OF SOULS
bobincuk: you say the most romantic things
peter: I DO, AND YET YOU PROVIDE ME WITH NOTHING TO REAP
bobincuk: I think if you hold any hope that I will be able to furnish you with a sweet goth,low in the moral stakes you are more deranged than I gave you credit for
peter: I HAVE SPENT 4 HOURS WITH THE PORN, DO YOU THINK SUCH A MINDSET IS DERANGED?
peter: GOD NOW THERE'LL BE NO MILF MILKING ME IN THE CANTEEN
peter: MILKING ME DRY
peter: WITH NO-ONE INTERUPTING
peter: EXCEPT FOR ANOTHER FILTH, SUCKING MY BALLS
peter: RAFTER SMELLING THEM
bobincuk: one does no simply walk into milfdom, it is folly
bobincuk: has life taught you nothing
peter: I AM A SWEET BOY
peter: I AM A NON GAY WILL YOUNG
peter: MILFS SUCK MY BALLS
bobincuk: alas poor Peter I am not convinced
bobincuk: I know you, I know you have no milf, I know you have no balls, its catch22
peter: ITS A FAIR COP, SUCK MY BALLS NIGGER
bobincuk: please stop asking me to perform sexual acts upon your person
bobincuk: its very very disturbing
peter: QUITE
bobincuk: ok, I must go eat
bobincuk: not your balls
peter: I TO MUST EAT,
peter: NOT MY BALLS
peter: JUST CHEESY BALLS
peter: ALL MELTED
bobincuk: funny, that sounds like your balls
peter: INDEED,
peter: WHAT ARE YOU WORKING TOMORROW BUTT MUNCH?
bobincuk: 2:10
peter: YOU LUCK Y BARSTARD
bobincuk: you won't be thinking that at 6 tomorrow
peter: NO I WONT, ILL BE THNKING, MR HAT, YOUR DRIVING IS APPAULING
bobincuk: mr hat? your new friend
peter: HE'S LIKE MY FAVOURATE SOCK
peter: HE HAS A RUNNY NOSE
peter: LOVES IN UP HIM
peter: LIKE A NYMPHO SOCK PUPPET
bobincuk: have you drawn a face on him?
peter: ITS A PICTURE OF HEATHER THOMAS
bobincuk: you must introduce me sometime
peter: DUDE, IM GOING TO BAKE NOW, SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDEM I DONT HAVE THE LUXURY OF SITTING AND COOKING ON THE SAME FLOOR
bobincuk: choose more wisely a house you should
peter: SOCK PUPPETS AWAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY.
bobincuk: adios

txt Sheep/Porn

Sat, 22 Apr 2006 01:35:06 GMT

peter: I WAS FAST ASLEEP BY 9 LAST NIGHT, I FEEL TERRIBLE TODAY AS A RESULT, ALL I WANT TO DO NOW IS SLEEP, SLEEP LIKE IN THE GOOD OL DAYS.
bobincuk: you must rise, like a pheonix from the ashes,
peter: I AM A WORM POKING MY HEAD OUT OF LOVELY DARNESS INTO THE MISERY OF DAY
bobincuk: ah, the misery of day, how it haunts us all
bobincuk: sometimes at night?
peter: NEVER AT NIGHT
bobincuk: its night now...............isn't it?
peter: YES, BUT BE THERE MISERY?
bobincuk: I see your point
bobincuk: are you going to be around in about 30 mins?
peter: THERE IS A STRONG POSSIBILITY
bobincuk: well then I must depart, for there is soon to be food on the table, a veritable banquet awaits
peter: GOOD MAN, I'VE HAD MY CHEESE ON TOAST FOR THE EVENING
bobincuk: I have fish, waffles and spaggetti, a combination known only to the GODS
peter: YOU HAVE MY SUPER AGREEMENT
peter: TO THE FUTURE. THE
bobincuk: Till the time that I return I bid thee farewell
peter: V.GOOF
peter: GOOD
peter: EVEN
peter: ING
bobincuk: odd even
bobincuk: ing
peter: QUITE
bobincuk: and like that, he was gone
peter: YES
bobincuk: It was consumed with great viger
peter: DUDE THAT WAS NOT 30 MINS, WAS IT AT MAX QUAFFING TEMPERATURE?
bobincuk: You know, it was good, but to be honest, like so many things in life it didn't quite live up to expectations
peter: NO SADLY NOT, UNLESS YOU EAT PORK CHOPS, THEY'RE ALWAYS OUTSTANDING
bobincuk: Also KFC seldom fails to hit the mark
peter: YES, AND WESTONS VINTAGE OR CEREMONIAL CIDERS
bobincuk: Or baked beans, if only more things in life would prove so consistantly pleasing as the humble Bean
peter: INDEED, I LIKE TO MASH THEM UP ON MY BIG SANDWICH, WITH EGG AND SAUSAGE AND THE LIKE, OR FOR A TREAT MUSHROOMS, AND BACON, AND CHEESE
bobincuk: I'm a purist, I like mine straight, on toast
peter: I UNDERSTAND, BUT WHEN YOUR IN THE BUTTY SHOP, YOU CAN ONLY EVER GO FOR THE SPECIAL 'BIG NUDGER'
peter: THATS WHAT THEY CALL THE FOOTLONGS
peter: YOU CAN ALSO HAVE SMALL NUDGERS, BUT THATS JUST GAY
bobincuk: how could you ever look at yourself again knowing you were the sort of man who would settle for a small nudger
bobincuk: you think are respective icons show are greatest love's in life?
peter: ERM.....DID YOU MIS-PHASE THE LATTER CONTENT?
bobincuk: I wouldn't have thought so, your icon is that little picture ------>
peter: WHERE'S YOUR ICON
bobincuk: is it showing nothing again? well, that for arguments sake, that would still stand up
peter: CONTACT'S DISPLAY IMAGE IS GREYED OUT OF THE VIEW MENU, HOW FOOKING SHITE, IT'S BEST NOT TO COVER THIS GROUND AGAIN, AS I RECALL IT LED TO INSULTS
bobincuk: how dare you imply I would sink to such levels, ............cock knocker.
peter: POO SNIFER
bobincuk: we should really nip this in the bud before it becomes all encompassing
peter: ..........UNCOMPROMISING?
bobincuk: encompass:: to include entirely or comprehensively
peter: MY MISTAKE, DICTIONARY BOY
bobincuk: I always have it at hand, I don't actually speak any english
peter: CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR RANDOM WORD SNTENCES OF NEAR SENSE THEN
bobincuk: I prepare all my sentances in advace, because thats how very predictable everything you say is
peter: OK, AS NO CUM DODGING 4 CD 2 HAS JUST ARRIVED I THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KOW THE PRVIEW LOOKS AWESOME
bobincuk: you had me at "no cum dodging"
peter: THERE SEEMS TO BE A LOT OF GARGLING, AND 2 LOADS OF SHOT COMING FROM ONE SHOOTER, I HOPE THIS DOESN'T DETRACT FROM THE PLOT
peter: THEY'VE HIRED MORE STAFF
peter: GOT THE BLACKS INVOLVED
bobincuk: the colour of there staffs is of no intrest to me
peter: NOT THE STAFF, THE STUFF
bobincuk: the stuff is black?
peter: NO THE RECEPTICLES
bobincuk: out of curiosity would there be absolutly anything I could say at this point that would result in a disk popping through my mail slot in the next hour or so?
peter: FRAID NOT, IV'E HAD ONE TOO MANY
bobincuk: alas, I have not had nearly enough
peter: YOU'RE GOING TO LOVE THIS ONE DUDE
bobincuk: I think the title alone left no doubt of that
peter: SHE'S ASKING IF THEY'VE GOT ANY MORE, THEY ARE TRYING TO THE AIR BUBLES OUT
peter: ITS GOT SOPHIE FROM HOME AND AWAY IN IT
bobincuk: if that is true, I will shortly be knocking upon you front door
bobincuk: and shortly after that, kicking it in
peter: ANYWAY ENOUGH, I'LL EXAMINE THE EVIDENCE CLOSER LATER
bobincuk: yes, don't be doing that while we talk,
peter: NEVER
bobincuk: its not tickerty boo
peter: IM NOT JOHN
bobincuk: I gatherd that by the sense you were making
bobincuk: whatever became of poor old John?
peter: HE'S NOT HERE, HE WENT AWAY
bobincuk: he's a tale to tell our children about
peter: I THINK HE'S IN THE SHIT AT THE MO. HE BEEN WALKABOUT
bobincuk: walkabout? details.
peter: DRINKNING ALL NIGHT, SOMETIMES HE WAKES IN STRANGE PLACES
bobincuk: for a moment I thought you were telling me he had been with another
peter: MAYBE THERE IS SOME SUBCONCIOUS INTENT SOMEWHERE
bobincuk: only in Wales could John find two women to sleep with, or as there known locally, sheep
bobincuk: strange that out of everyone you would suspect of having an intrest in sheep, John would somehow find himself living in Wales
peter: SHE'S MORE OF A SLIGHT GROWN LAMB, SICKENING REALLY
bobincuk: a lamb to the slaughter so to speak
bobincuk: or more spercifically, to the fat man in the glasses
peter: SHE LET SOME BLOKE DO IT UP HER A HOLE WITH LAVENDAR SHOWER GEL BECAUSE IT PLEASED HIM, SHE IS NOT VERY BRIGHT, BUT APPARENTLY WORTHY OF SHOWERING WITH
peter: IT'S THE BEST HE'LL GET TO A WASH I SUPPODSE
bobincuk: besides they don't make showers that big, it must have been the dip
peter: QUITE
bobincuk: down the dipper for some up the shitter
peter: CHECKING THE ALENDAR, TIME FOR THE LAVENDAR
bobincuk: I shall be leaving for Wales shortly, it sounds like a place where a guy with my know how could get much action
peter: I WOULD SAY, IF YOU SPENT A LITTLE TIME THERE, SAY A WEEK, YOU'D HAVE UPSET THE LOCALS SO MUCH YOU'D HAVE "SHEEP STEALER" BURNT ONTO YOUR HEAD BY THE LOCAL FOLK
bobincuk: again? do these people hove no understanding of the conept of forgivness
bobincuk: only because I'd be the coolest cat in town
peter: IN CERTAIN CIRCLES, BUT AS YOU SAW, MOSTLY THEY WERE ON THE TURN, NOT EXACTLY THE BIBLE BELT
bobincuk: Farmers! philostines! pesants! one and all
bobincuk: they undestand not the finer things in life
peter: SEMMINGLY NOT
bobincuk: they have no love of art, beauty, nor lending me there daughters
peter: HAVE YOU ASKED
bobincuk: reapetedly, besides it should go without saying, I was hardly there for there culture
bobincuk: you know I can tell by the leanth of time you are taking to reply and the briefness of your answers that it is not out of the realms of posibilitys that you are watching cum dodging
peter: NO SIR, I'M ACTUALLY BEING A SADO AND TRYING TO REGISTER SYSTEM FILES IN A VEIN ATTEMPT TO FIX NOTHING AT ALL.
bobincuk: that sometimes needs fixing
bobincuk: if left unatended you could find everything working perfectly, then were would we be?
peter: NO, SOMETHING NEEDS TO WORK, BUT IVE GIVEN UP NOW, BESIDES YOU CAUGHT ME SNEAKING OFF FOR A PISS, IM NOW TOYING WITH SCURGING THE CHICKEN FROM THE FRIDGE
bobincuk: for use later in conjuction with the cum dodgers no doubt
peter: CHICKEN DRUMSTICKS AND PORN, YOU MUST THINK FOWL OF ME.
bobincuk: I think an apology is in order
peter: ON WHOS BEHALF
bobincuk: on behalf of the party responcible for useing the word "fowl" in a chicken related atempt at humour
peter: FAILURE IS UNACCEPTABLE, I WILL INFACT INSERT A SWORD IN MY CHEST FOR YOUR INCONVENIENCE
bobincuk: that isn't nessacery?
peter: NOT WHEN THE CRICKEN CLAVING IS NOW GROWING
bobincuk: don't ever put me in a position where I have to try and spell nessasery again
peter: DICTIONARY BOY, LEARN TO SPELL
bobincuk: porn boy, learn to share
peter: YOU WANT SOME PICTURES, I CAN'T SEND STREAMING PORN TO YOUR DIAL UP NOW CAN I, WANNA TASTE
bobincuk: a taste would only iritate my tumour
peter: IF I WERE A TROOPER, I WOULD POST SOME THROUGH YOUR DOOR TOMORROW AROUND 19:30. IT IS PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE, THE QUESTION IS, CAN'T IT WAIT UNTIL THE WEEKEND, MR. ANDERSON.
bobincuk: I would be delighted to wait until the weekend
peter: I SEE, THEN THERE IS NO NEED FOR HASTE ON MY BEHALF
bobincuk: if I haven't died in some horrible no porn related accident by then, I will thank you
peter: WE'LL SEE HOW CONTRIBUTING FACTORS PREVIAL
bobincuk: ok, it is with heavy heart I must depart to try and find solace in the darkness
peter: YOU'RE BACK IN AT 6?
bobincuk: yes
peter: OK, BUT NOW THE CHICKEN MUST BE EATEN, AND I WILL REVIEW THE VOL4 CD2+1 BUT LEAVE IT A SUPRISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
bobincuk: well then Sir, I wish you all the best in your adventure into other peoples sex lives
peter: AND YOURS
bobincuk: I thank you
bobincuk: good night fair maiden
peter: GOOD NIGHT SWEET PRINCE

the perils of internet chess

Sat, 22 Apr 2006 01:08:45 GMT

peter: WELL DONE FOOK FACE, GO SUCK A LOLLY, HOT BOY
misplacedsanity: oh, how did it come to this?
misplacedsanity: I'm not seeing a chess board
peter: DUNNO
peter: NOT IT NEED A PASSWORD
peter: TOO MANY PASSWORDS
misplacedsanity: its loading
misplacedsanity: I'm waiting for you
peter: DUDE, BUY A DOG, PUT SAUSAGES UP YOUR ASS, GET THEM TO EAT THEM OUT, YOUD LIKE LIKE RIMMING BOY
misplacedsanity: press something
peter: I CANT HAVE THE CHESS
misplacedsanity: whyever not?
peter: IT NEEDS A PASSWORD I DONT HAVE
misplacedsanity: fuck, so I have to sit here looking at a screen of green and yellow square's?
misplacedsanity: how can you invite me to play chess if you can't play chess?
misplacedsanity: this is like Nazi Germany all over again
peter: DUDE, YOU PLAYIN NOW?
misplacedsanity: We is playin now
peter: I IS BLACK?
misplacedsanity: I is also aparently black

txt Spanking

Wed, 12 Apr 2006 23:58:00 GMT

bob: did you keel over onto your spunk drenched keyboard in a fit of exhaustion?
bob: you've gone and spanked yourself into unconsciousness haven't you, I dearly hope you haven't got an orange in your mouth
bob: or your cock
bob: I could continue to talk to myself for hours, no replies is not off putting to me at all
peter: YOU KNOW THAT IS THE EQUIVELLENT OF THE PRIZE
bob: what? dieing with an orange in your mouth?
peter: NOT QUITE
bob: your words, not mine
peter: YOUR WORDS SPOKEN THROUGH MY MOUTH
bob: you want me to go away don't you, so you can finish off your depravity
peter: SOMETIMES BOB SPOKE FOR ME, YOU FELL DOWN SOME----WHERE
bob: I fall down often, yet I somehow keep getting up
peter: I FALL DOWN OFTEN TOO, BUT OFTEN IT TAKES 8 HOURS OF REMAINING STILL BEFORE I CAN GET IT UP,
bob: its your age
peter: DID YOU EXAMINE THE SITE I MENTIONED
bob: I have to say I'm a little weary of going to a site with any of the following words in the title: young girls, big boys, drenched farm animals, Peters spank extravaganza
peter: THEN MISS OUT OF A TREAT YOU WILL
bob: good god, I should be in bed, I only got up for a piss
peter: LIAR, YOU WANTED TO SPEND 3 HOURS WITH THE OL' TO N FRO
bob: We all know Pete, we think you should seek immediate help
peter: THATS YOUR ADULT DECISION IS IT
bob: what, that you need help? I don't think you have to be an adult to see that, its clear to us all
peter: ALL, IS THAT THE SAME AS THEY?
bob: thats right, WE, all of us, ALL OF US
peter: WE, IS THAT YOU AND YOUR CHESS SET?
bob: as opposed to you and your problems
peter: ISSUES IF YOU DONT MIND, DID YOU WATCH FIGHT CLUB?
bob: no, I seriously just got up
bob: I have to get up again at 5, but I knew I had a kitkat down here, it called to me through the darkness
peter: AND NOW YOURE IN A CONV ABOUT SELF ABUSE, IS THE KITKAT FOR YOUR TEMPERATE CHECKING HOLE?
bob: you'd like to think that wouldn't you?
peter: IT WOULD SERVE AS AN AMUSING DISTRACTION
bob: to what? life?
peter: DRIVEL...
bob: that actually sums up my life quite acurately
bob: and also my smelling
bob: spelling
peter: DO YOU SMEEL MAINLY
bob: see what I did there, I mispelt spelling for a huge comedy effect
bob: and failed
peter: IT WOULDVE WORKED IF THE M AND THE P WERE NEXT TO EACH OTHER
bob: or I had a strange and unusual speech impediment
peter: LIKE JOHNS WHERE THE T BECAME AN N, PASS ME NAT NER SALT AND PEPPER
bob: I have, in fact got a strange and unusual rape impediment
bob: oh, sorry, thats an implement
peter: IS IT NOT YOU THATS INTO THE SPANKING?
bob: no, I'm into the planking
peter: INTERESTING
bob: I am the Plan King
peter: NO, YOU ARE THE SPUN KING
bob: well that would make you the Drun king, ok, that didn't work
peter: NO IT WOULD MAKE ME THE STUPID MORON WHO SHOULD'VE GONE TO BED A 9 WHEN HE BECAME THE NODDIG DONKEY, BUT FOUGHT IT AND NOW I'M IN FOR A TREAT TOMORROW AT 7:15 WHEN THE ALARM GOES OFF.
bob: I understand
bob: everything
bob: would you rather have the Force or the Prize?
peter: ERM, FORCE
peter: I DONT NEED TO HEAR OTHER PEOPLES SHIT, UNLESS WANDERNG THROUGH MANCHRESTER ONE DAY I HEARD THE CALLING
bob: but cutting off peoples heads looks like so much fun
peter: NO WAIT THE FORCE COULD REMOVE CLOTHES, CHOKE HOLD TO UNCONIOUSNESS, LIKE IN THAT FILM WITH SCOTT BIO
peter: DO YOU THINK THE TRUTH OF PERSEPTION WOULD BE DAMNING THOUGH, THE FORCE IT IS FOR SURE, IT RULES OUT INTERACTION
bob: Pete, get over Scott Bio, he's never going to call you back, he was never yours in the first place, stealing his films from blockbusters doesn't make him your girl friend, how many times?
peter: ZAPPED, HE GOT HEATHER THOMAS'S BRA OFF REMOTELY
bob: I know, and not pheobe cates which is evidence of gay if ever I saw it
peter: I WOULD HAVE TURNED HER INSIDE OUT
bob: indeed
bob: why haven't I got a pheobe cates? wheres my pheobe cates? I want one real bad
peter: ITS A MATTER OF SEARCHING IN THE WRONG PLACES
peter: ST HELENS DOES NOT HAVE A PHOEBE
bob: no, nor anything else of any merit
peter: IT HAS SOME CLASS AC TLITTLE SCRUBBERS WHO GIVE YOU JIP RATHER THAN GIVE YOU DOCTOR CRIP
bob: I think the conversation just peaked
peter: JUST PUTTING A LITTLE RAPPIN' OUT THERE TO YA'
bob: I appriciate it
peter: SERIOUSLY, THE BW SCRUBBERS PUT IT OUT, TO THEY NOT IN FATTOHEAF
bob: what know you of BW SCRUBBERS?
peter: THEY LOOKED GREAT, BUT IN FAIRNESS THEY ONLY WANTED YOUR BEER
bob: its the same the world over
peter: MAYBE IT SHOULD'VE BEEN PERSUED, RATHER THAN CHICKENED
bob: ah yes, but cowardice got me where I am today
bob: here sat talking to you, you may have a point
peter: QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE, QUITE.
bob: maybe we should have just gone gay and married each other, it would have saved a lot of trouble in the long run
peter: THEORETICALLY SOUND, BUT WE KNOW WHY THIS WOULDN'T WORK...
bob: because I'm not gay?
peter: YOU STINK OF POO
bob: for a start it would have saved that nasty crick in your neck, you know, the one you get from reaching round to jam stuff up your ass
peter: IT WOULD NEVER HAVE HIDING THE SHAME OF PICKING THE LARGER CARROTS FROM THE THE GROCERY STORE
bob: and how would that be any different for you than now?

Elie Wiesel: "The Perils of Indifference"

Thu, 06 Apr 2006 15:21:55 GMT

Fifty-four years ago to the day, a young Jewish boy from a small town in the Carpathian Mountains woke up, not far from Goethe's beloved Weimar, in a place of eternal infamy called Buchenwald. He was finally free, but there was no joy in his heart. He thought there never would be again. Liberated a day earlier by American soldiers, he remembers their rage at what they saw. And even if he lives to be a very old man, he will always be grateful to them for that rage, and also for their compassion. Though he did not understand their language, their eyes told him what he needed to know -- that they, too, would remember, and bear witness.

We are on the threshold of a new century, a new millennium. What will the legacy of this vanishing century be? How will it be remembered in the new millennium? Surely it will be judged, and judged severely, in both moral and metaphysical terms. These failures have cast a dark shadow over humanity: two World Wars, countless civil wars, the senseless chain of assassinations (Gandhi, the Kennedys, Martin Luther King, Sadat, Rabin), bloodbaths in Cambodia and Nigeria, India and Pakistan, Ireland and Rwanda, Eritrea and Ethiopia, Sarajevo and Kosovo; the inhumanity in the gulag and the tragedy of Hiroshima. And, on a different level, of course, Auschwitz and Treblinka. So much violence; so much indifference.

What is indifference? Etymologically, the word means "no difference." A strange and unnatural state in which the lines blur between light and darkness, dusk and dawn, crime and punishment, cruelty and compassion, good and evil. What are its courses and inescapable consequences? Is it a philosophy? Is there a philosophy of indifference conceivable? Can one possibly view indifference as a virtue? Is it necessary at times to practice it simply to keep one's sanity, live normally, enjoy a fine meal and a glass of wine, as the world around us experiences harrowing upheavals?

Of course, indifference can be tempting -- more than that, seductive. It is so much easier to look away from victims. It is so much easier to avoid such rude interruptions to our work, our dreams, our hopes. It is, after all, awkward, troublesome, to be involved in another person's pain and despair. Yet, for the person who is indifferent, his or her neighbor are of no consequence. And, therefore, their lives are meaningless. Their hidden or even visible anguish is of no interest. Indifference reduces the Other to an abstraction.

Over there, behind the black gates of Auschwitz, the most tragic of all prisoners were the "Muselmanner," as they were called. Wrapped in their torn blankets, they would sit or lie on the ground, staring vacantly into space, unaware of who or where they were -- strangers to their surroundings. They no longer felt pain, hunger, thirst. They feared nothing. They felt nothing. They were dead and did not know it.

Rooted in our tradition, some of us felt that to be abandoned by humanity then was not the ultimate. We felt that to be abandoned by God was worse than to be punished by Him. Better an unjust God than an indifferent one. For us to be ignored by God was a harsher punishment than to be a victim of His anger. Man can live far from God -- not outside God. God is wherever we are. Even in suffering? Even in suffering.

In a way, to be indifferent to that suffering is what makes the human being inhuman. Indifference, after all, is more dangerous than anger and hatred. Anger can at times be creative. One writes a great poem, a great symphony. One does something special for the sake of humanity because one is angry at the injustice that one witnesses. But indifference is never creative. Even hatred at times may elicit a response. You fight it. You denounce it. You disarm it.

Indifference elicits no response. Indifference is not a response. Indifference is not a beginning; it is an end. And, therefore, indifference is always the friend of the enemy, for it benefits the aggressor -- never his victim, whose pain is magnified when he or she feels forgotten. The political prisoner in his cell, the hungry children, the homeless refugees -- not to respond to their plight, not to relieve their solitude by offering them a spark of hope is to exile them from human memory. And in denying their humanity, we betray our own.

Indifference, then, is not only a sin, it is a punishment.

And this is one of the most important lessons of this outgoing century's wide-ranging experiments in good and evil.

In the place that I come from, society was composed of three simple categories: the killers, the victims, and the bystanders. During the darkest of times, inside the ghettoes and death camps -- and I'm glad that Mrs. Clinton mentioned that we are now commemorating that event, that period, that we are now in the Days of Remembrance -- but then, we felt abandoned, forgotten. All of us did.

And our only miserable consolation was that we believed that Auschwitz and Treblinka were closely guarded secrets; that the leaders of the free world did not know what was going on behind those black gates and barbed wire; that they had no knowledge of the war against the Jews that Hitler's armies and their accomplices waged as part of the war against the Allies. If they knew, we thought, surely those leaders would have moved heaven and earth to intervene. They would have spoken out with great outrage and conviction. They would have bombed the railways leading to Birkenau, just the railways, just once.

And now we knew, we learned, we discovered that the Pentagon knew, the State Department knew. And the illustrious occupant of the White House then, who was a great leader -- and I say it with some anguish and pain, because, today is exactly 54 years marking his death -- Franklin Delano Roosevelt died on April the 12th, 1945. So he is very much present to me and to us. No doubt, he was a great leader. He mobilized the American people and the world, going into battle, bringing hundreds and thousands of valiant and brave soldiers in America to fight fascism, to fight dictatorship, to fight Hitler. And so many of the young people fell in battle. And, nevertheless, his image in Jewish history -- I must say it -- his image in Jewish history is flawed.

The depressing tale of the St. Louis is a case in point. Sixty years ago, its human cargo -- nearly 1,000 Jews -- was turned back to Nazi Germany. And that happened after the Kristallnacht, after the first state sponsored pogrom, with hundreds of Jewish shops destroyed, synagogues burned, thousands of people put in concentration camps. And that ship, which was already in the shores of the United States, was sent back. I don't understand. Roosevelt was a good man, with a heart. He understood those who needed help. Why didn't he allow these refugees to disembark? A thousand people -- in America, the great country, the greatest democracy, the most generous of all new nations in modern history. What happened? I don't understand. Why the indifference, on the highest level, to the suffering of the victims?

But then, there were human beings who were sensitive to our tragedy. Those non-Jews, those Christians, that we call the "Righteous Gentiles," whose selfless acts of heroism saved the honor of their faith. Why were they so few? Why was there a greater effort to save SS murderers after the war than to save their victims during the war? Why did some of America's largest corporations continue to do business with Hitler's Germany until 1942? It has been suggested, and it was documented, that the Wehrmacht could not have conducted its invasion of France without oil obtained from American sources. How is one to explain their indifference?

And yet, my friends, good things have also happened in this traumatic century: the defeat of Nazism, the collapse of communism, the rebirth of Israel on its ancestral soil, the demise of apartheid, Israel's peace treaty with Egypt, the peace accord in Ireland. And let us remember the meeting, filled with drama and emotion, between Rabin and Arafat that you, Mr. President, convened in this very place. I was here and I will never forget it.

And then, of course, the joint decision of the United States and NATO to intervene in Kosovo and save those victims, those refugees, those who were uprooted by a man, whom I believe that because of his crimes, should be charged with crimes against humanity.

But this time, the world was not silent. This time, we do respond. This time, we intervene.

Does it mean that we have learned from the past? Does it mean that society has changed? Has the human being become less indifferent and more human? Have we really learned from our experiences? Are we less insensitive to the plight of victims of ethnic cleansing and other forms of injustices in places near and far? Is today's justified intervention in Kosovo, led by you, Mr. President, a lasting warning that never again will the deportation, the terrorization of children and their parents, be allowed anywhere in the world? Will it discourage other dictators in other lands to do the same?

What about the children? Oh, we see them on television, we read about them in the papers, and we do so with a broken heart. Their fate is always the most tragic, inevitably. When adults wage war, children perish. We see their faces, their eyes. Do we hear their pleas? Do we feel their pain, their agony? Every minute one of them dies of disease, violence, famine.

Some of them -- so many of them -- could be saved.

And so, once again, I think of the young Jewish boy from the Carpathian Mountains. He has accompanied the old man I have become throughout these years of quest and struggle. And together we walk towards the new millennium, carried by profound fear and extraordinary hope.

Harold Pinter – Nobel Lecture

Wed, 05 Apr 2006 22:28:17 GMT

Art, Truth & Politics

In 1958 I wrote the following:

'There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false.'

I believe that these assertions still make sense and do still apply to the exploration of reality through art. So as a writer I stand by them but as a citizen I cannot. As a citizen I must ask: What is true? What is false?

Truth in drama is forever elusive. You never quite find it but the search for it is compulsive. The search is clearly what drives the endeavour. The search is your task. More often than not you stumble upon the truth in the dark, colliding with it or just glimpsing an image or a shape which seems to correspond to the truth, often without realising that you have done so. But the real truth is that there never is any such thing as one truth to be found in dramatic art. There are many. These truths challenge each other, recoil from each other, reflect each other, ignore each other, tease each other, are blind to each other. Sometimes you feel you have the truth of a moment in your hand, then it slips through your fingers and is lost.

I have often been asked how my plays come about. I cannot say. Nor can I ever sum up my plays, except to say that this is what happened. That is what they said. That is what they did.

Most of the plays are engendered by a line, a word or an image. The given word is often shortly followed by the image. I shall give two examples of two lines which came right out of the blue into my head, followed by an image, followed by me.

The plays are The Homecoming and Old Times. The first line of The Homecoming is 'What have you done with the scissors?' The first line of Old Times is 'Dark.'

In each case I had no further information.

In the first case someone was obviously looking for a pair of scissors and was demanding their whereabouts of someone else he suspected had probably stolen them. But I somehow knew that the person addressed didn't give a damn about the scissors or about the questioner either, for that matter.

'Dark' I took to be a description of someone's hair, the hair of a woman, and was the answer to a question. In each case I found myself compelled to pursue the matter. This happened visually, a very slow fade, through shadow into light.

I always start a play by calling the characters A, B and C.

In the play that became The Homecoming I saw a man enter a stark room and ask his question of a younger man sitting on an ugly sofa reading a racing paper. I somehow suspected that A was a father and that B was his son, but I had no proof. This was however confirmed a short time later when B (later to become Lenny) says to A (later to become Max), 'Dad, do you mind if I change the subject? I want to ask you something. The dinner we had before, what was the name of it? What do you call it? Why don't you buy a dog? You're a dog cook. Honest. You think you're cooking for a lot of dogs.' So since B calls A 'Dad' it seemed to me reasonable to assume that they were father and son. A was also clearly the cook and his cooking did not seem to be held in high regard. Did this mean that there was no mother? I didn't know. But, as I told myself at the time, our beginnings never know our ends.

'Dark.' A large window. Evening sky. A man, A (later to become Deeley), and a woman, B (later to become Kate), sitting with drinks. 'Fat or thin?' the man asks. Who are they talking about? But I then see, standing at the window, a woman, C (later to become Anna), in another condition of light, her back to them, her hair dark.

It's a strange moment, the moment of creating characters who up to that moment have had no existence. What follows is fitful, uncertain, even hallucinatory, although sometimes it can be an unstoppable avalanche. The author's position is an odd one. In a sense he is not welcomed by the characters. The characters resist him, they are not easy to live with, they are impossible to define. You certainly can't dictate to them. To a certain extent you play a never-ending game with them, cat and mouse, blind man's buff, hide and seek. But finally you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, manipulate or distort.

So language in art remains a highly ambiguous transaction, a quicksand, a trampoline, a frozen pool which might give way under you, the author, at any time.

But as I have said, the search for the truth can never stop. It cannot be adjourned, it cannot be postponed. It has to be faced, right there, on the spot.

Political theatre presents an entirely different set of problems. Sermonising has to be avoided at all cost. Objectivity is essential. The characters must be allowed to breathe their own air. The author cannot confine and constrict them to satisfy his own taste or disposition or prejudice. He must be prepared to approach them from a variety of angles, from a full and uninhibited range of perspectives, take them by surprise, perhaps, occasionally, but nevertheless give them the freedom to go which way they will. This does not always work. And political satire, of course, adheres to none of these precepts, in fact does precisely the opposite, which is its proper function.

In my play The Birthday Party I think I allow a whole range of options to operate in a dense forest of possibility before finally focussing on an act of subjugation.

Mountain Language pretends to no such range of operation. It remains brutal, short and ugly. But the soldiers in the play do get some fun out of it. One sometimes forgets that torturers become easily bored. They need a bit of a laugh to keep their spirits up. This has been confirmed of course by the events at Abu Ghraib in Baghdad. Mountain Language lasts only 20 minutes, but it could go on for hour after hour, on and on and on, the same pattern repeated over and over again, on and on, hour after hour.

Ashes to Ashes, on the other hand, seems to me to be taking place under water. A drowning woman, her hand reaching up through the waves, dropping down out of sight, reaching for others, but finding nobody there, either above or under the water, finding only shadows, reflections, floating; the woman a lost figure in a drowning landscape, a woman unable to escape the doom that seemed to belong only to others.

But as they died, she must die too.

Political language, as used by politicians, does not venture into any of this territory since the majority of politicians, on the evidence available to us, are interested not in truth but in power and in the maintenance of that power. To maintain that power it is essential that people remain in ignorance, that they live in ignorance of the truth, even the truth of their own lives. What surrounds us therefore is a vast tapestry of lies, upon which we feed.

As every single person here knows, the justification for the invasion of Iraq was that Saddam Hussein possessed a highly dangerous body of weapons of mass destruction, some of which could be fired in 45 minutes, bringing about appalling devastation. We were assured that was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq had a relationship with Al Quaeda and shared responsibility for the atrocity in New York of September 11th 2001. We were assured that this was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq threatened the security of the world. We were assured it was true. It was not true.

The truth is something entirely different. The truth is to do with how the United States understands its role in the world and how it chooses to embody it.

But before I come back to the present I would like to look at the recent past, by which I mean United States foreign policy since the end of the Second World War. I believe it is obligatory upon us to subject this period to at least some kind of even limited scrutiny, which is all that time will allow here.

Everyone knows what happened in the Soviet Union and throughout Eastern Europe during the post-war period: the systematic brutality, the widespread atrocities, the ruthless suppression of independent thought. All this has been fully documented and verified.

But my contention here is that the US crimes in the same period have only been superficially recorded, let alone documented, let alone acknowledged, let alone recognised as crimes at all. I believe this must be addressed and that the truth has considerable bearing on where the world stands now. Although constrained, to a certain extent, by the existence of the Soviet Union, the United States' actions throughout the world made it clear that it had concluded it had carte blanche to do what it liked.

Direct invasion of a sovereign state has never in fact been America's favoured method. In the main, it has preferred what it has described as 'low intensity conflict'. Low intensity conflict means that thousands of people die but slower than if you dropped a bomb on them in one fell swoop. It means that you infect the heart of the country, that you establish a malignant growth and watch the gangrene bloom. When the populace has been subdued – or beaten to death – the same thing – and your own friends, the military and the great corporations, sit comfortably in power, you go before the camera and say that democracy has prevailed. This was a commonplace in US foreign policy in the years to which I refer.

The tragedy of Nicaragua was a highly significant case. I choose to offer it here as a potent example of America's view of its role in the world, both then and now.

I was present at a meeting at the US embassy in London in the late 1980s.

The United States Congress was about to decide whether to give more money to the Contras in their campaign against the state of Nicaragua. I was a member of a delegation speaking on behalf of Nicaragua but the most important member of this delegation was a Father John Metcalf. The leader of the US body was Raymond Seitz (then number two to the ambassador, later ambassador himself). Father Metcalf said: 'Sir, I am in charge of a parish in the north of Nicaragua. My parishioners built a school, a health centre, a cultural centre. We have lived in peace. A few months ago a Contra force attacked the parish. They destroyed everything: the school, the health centre, the cultural centre. They raped nurses and teachers, slaughtered doctors, in the most brutal manner. They behaved like savages. Please demand that the US government withdraw its support from this shocking terrorist activity.'

Raymond Seitz had a very good reputation as a rational, responsible and highly sophisticated man. He was greatly respected in diplomatic circles. He listened, paused and then spoke with some gravity. 'Father,' he said, 'let me tell you something. In war, innocent people always suffer.' There was a frozen silence. We stared at him. He did not flinch.

Innocent people, indeed, always suffer.

Finally somebody said: 'But in this case “innocent people” were the victims of a gruesome atrocity subsidised by your government, one among many. If Congress allows the Contras more money further atrocities of this kind will take place. Is this not the case? Is your government not therefore guilty of supporting acts of murder and destruction upon the citizens of a sovereign state?'

Seitz was imperturbable. 'I don't agree that the facts as presented support your assertions,' he said.

As we were leaving the Embassy a US aide told me that he enjoyed my plays. I did not reply.

I should remind you that at the time President Reagan made the following statement: 'The Contras are the moral equivalent of our Founding Fathers.'

The United States supported the brutal Somoza dictatorship in Nicaragua for over 40 years. The Nicaraguan people, led by the Sandinistas, overthrew this regime in 1979, a breathtaking popular revolution.

The Sandinistas weren't perfect. They possessed their fair share of arrogance and their political philosophy contained a number of contradictory elements. But they were intelligent, rational and civilised. They set out to establish a stable, decent, pluralistic society. The death penalty was abolished. Hundreds of thousands of poverty-stricken peasants were brought back from the dead. Over 100,000 families were given title to land. Two thousand schools were built. A quite remarkable literacy campaign reduced illiteracy in the country to less than one seventh. Free education was established and a free health service. Infant mortality was reduced by a third. Polio was eradicated.

The United States denounced these achievements as Marxist/Leninist subversion. In the view of the US government, a dangerous example was being set. If Nicaragua was allowed to establish basic norms of social and economic justice, if it was allowed to raise the standards of health care and education and achieve social unity and national self respect, neighbouring countries would ask the same questions and do the same things. There was of course at the time fierce resistance to the status quo in El Salvador.

I spoke earlier about 'a tapestry of lies' which surrounds us. President Reagan commonly described Nicaragua as a 'totalitarian dungeon'. This was taken generally by the media, and certainly by the British government, as accurate and fair comment. But there was in fact no record of death squads under the Sandinista government. There was no record of torture. There was no record of systematic or official military brutality. No priests were ever murdered in Nicaragua. There were in fact three priests in the government, two Jesuits and a Maryknoll missionary. The totalitarian dungeons were actually next door, in El Salvador and Guatemala. The United States had brought down the democratically elected government of Guatemala in 1954 and it is estimated that over 200,000 people had been victims of successive military dictatorships.

Six of the most distinguished Jesuits in the world were viciously murdered at the Central American University in San Salvador in 1989 by a battalion of the Alcatl regiment trained at Fort Benning, Georgia, USA. That extremely brave man Archbishop Romero was assassinated while saying mass. It is estimated that 75,000 people died. Why were they killed? They were killed because they believed a better life was possible and should be achieved. That belief immediately qualified them as communists. They died because they dared to question the status quo, the endless plateau of poverty, disease, degradation and oppression, which had been their birthright.

The United States finally brought down the Sandinista government. It took some years and considerable resistance but relentless economic persecution and 30,000 dead finally undermined the spirit of the Nicaraguan people. They were exhausted and poverty stricken once again. The casinos moved back into the country. Free health and free education were over. Big business returned with a vengeance. 'Democracy' had prevailed.

But this 'policy' was by no means restricted to Central America. It was conducted throughout the world. It was never-ending. And it is as if it never happened.

The United States supported and in many cases engendered every right wing military dictatorship in the world after the end of the Second World War. I refer to Indonesia, Greece, Uruguay, Brazil, Paraguay, Haiti, Turkey, the Philippines, Guatemala, El Salvador, and, of course, Chile. The horror the United States inflicted upon Chile in 1973 can never be purged and can never be forgiven.

Hundreds of thousands of deaths took place throughout these countries. Did they take place? And are they in all cases attributable to US foreign policy? The answer is yes they did take place and they are attributable to American foreign policy. But you wouldn't know it.

It never happened. Nothing ever happened. Even while it was happening it wasn't happening. It didn't matter. It was of no interest. The crimes of the United States have been systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless, but very few people have actually talked about them. You have to hand it to America. It has exercised a quite clinical manipulation of power worldwide while masquerading as a force for universal good. It's a brilliant, even witty, highly successful act of hypnosis.

I put to you that the United States is without doubt the greatest show on the road. Brutal, indifferent, scornful and ruthless it may be but it is also very clever. As a salesman it is out on its own and its most saleable commodity is self love. It's a winner. Listen to all American presidents on television say the words, 'the American people', as in the sentence, 'I say to the American people it is time to pray and to defend the rights of the American people and I ask the American people to trust their president in the action he is about to take on behalf of the American people.'

It's a scintillating stratagem. Language is actually employed to keep thought at bay. The words 'the American people' provide a truly voluptuous cushion of reassurance. You don't need to think. Just lie back on the cushion. The cushion may be suffocating your intelligence and your critical faculties but it's very comfortable. This does not apply of course to the 40 million people living below the poverty line and the 2 million men and women imprisoned in the vast gulag of prisons, which extends across the US.

The United States no longer bothers about low intensity conflict. It no longer sees any point in being reticent or even devious. It puts its cards on the table without fear or favour. It quite simply doesn't give a damn about the United Nations, international law or critical dissent, which it regards as impotent and irrelevant. It also has its own bleating little lamb tagging behind it on a lead, the pathetic and supine Great Britain.

What has happened to our moral sensibility? Did we ever have any? What do these words mean? Do they refer to a term very rarely employed these days – conscience? A conscience to do not only with our own acts but to do with our shared responsibility in the acts of others? Is all this dead? Look at Guantanamo Bay. Hundreds of people detained without charge for over three years, with no legal representation or due process, technically detained forever. This totally illegitimate structure is maintained in defiance of the Geneva Convention. It is not only tolerated but hardly thought about by what's called the 'international community'. This criminal outrage is being committed by a country, which declares itself to be 'the leader of the free world'. Do we think about the inhabitants of Guantanamo Bay? What does the media say about them? They pop up occasionally – a small item on page six. They have been consigned to a no man's land from which indeed they may never return. At present many are on hunger strike, being force-fed, including British residents. No niceties in these force-feeding procedures. No sedative or anaesthetic. Just a tube stuck up your nose and into your throat. You vomit blood. This is torture. What has the British Foreign Secretary said about this? Nothing. What has the British Prime Minister said about this? Nothing. Why not? Because the United States has said: to criticise our conduct in Guantanamo Bay constitutes an unfriendly act. You're either with us or against us. So Blair shuts up.

The invasion of Iraq was a bandit act, an act of blatant state terrorism, demonstrating absolute contempt for the concept of international law. The invasion was an arbitrary military action inspired by a series of lies upon lies and gross manipulation of the media and therefore of the public; an act intended to consolidate American military and economic control of the Middle East masquerading – as a last resort – all other justifications having failed to justify themselves – as liberation. A formidable assertion of military force responsible for the death and mutilation of thousands and thousands of innocent people.

We have brought torture, cluster bombs, depleted uranium, innumerable acts of random murder, misery, degradation and death to the Iraqi people and call it 'bringing freedom and democracy to the Middle East'.

How many people do you have to kill before you qualify to be described as a mass murderer and a war criminal? One hundred thousand? More than enough, I would have thought. Therefore it is just that Bush and Blair be arraigned before the International Criminal Court of Justice. But Bush has been clever. He has not ratified the International Criminal Court of Justice. Therefore if any American soldier or for that matter politician finds himself in the dock Bush has warned that he will send in the marines. But Tony Blair has ratified the Court and is therefore available for prosecution. We can let the Court have his address if they're interested. It is Number 10, Downing Street, London.

Death in this context is irrelevant. Both Bush and Blair place death well away on the back burner. At least 100,000 Iraqis were killed by American bombs and missiles before the Iraq insurgency began. These people are of no moment. Their deaths don't exist. They are blank. They are not even recorded as being dead. 'We don't do body counts,' said the American general Tommy Franks.

Early in the invasion there was a photograph published on the front page of British newspapers of Tony Blair kissing the cheek of a little Iraqi boy. 'A grateful child,' said the caption. A few days later there was a story and photograph, on an inside page, of another four-year-old boy with no arms. His family had been blown up by a missile. He was the only survivor. 'When do I get my arms back?' he asked. The story was dropped. Well, Tony Blair wasn't holding him in his arms, nor the body of any other mutilated child, nor the body of any bloody corpse. Blood is dirty. It dirties your shirt and tie when you're making a sincere speech on television.

The 2,000 American dead are an embarrassment. They are transported to their graves in the dark. Funerals are unobtrusive, out of harm's way. The mutilated rot in their beds, some for the rest of their lives. So the dead and the mutilated both rot, in different kinds of graves.

Here is an extract from a poem by Pablo Neruda, 'I'm Explaining a Few Things':

And one morning all that was burning,
one morning the bonfires
leapt out of the earth
devouring human beings
and from then on fire,
gunpowder from then on,
and from then on blood.
Bandits with planes and Moors,
bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,
bandits with black friars spattering blessings
came through the sky to kill children
and the blood of children ran through the streets
without fuss, like children's blood.

Jackals that the jackals would despise
stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,
vipers that the vipers would abominate.

Face to face with you I have seen the blood
of Spain tower like a tide
to drown you in one wave
of pride and knives.

Treacherous
generals:
see my dead house,
look at broken Spain:
from every house burning metal flows
instead of flowers
from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges
and from every dead child a rifle with eyes
and from every crime bullets are born
which will one day find
the bull's eye of your hearts.

And you will ask: why doesn't his poetry
speak of dreams and leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land.

Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
the blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
in the streets!*

Let me make it quite clear that in quoting from Neruda's poem I am in no way comparing Republican Spain to Saddam Hussein's Iraq. I quote Neruda because nowhere in contemporary poetry have I read such a powerful visceral description of the bombing of civilians.

I have said earlier that the United States is now totally frank about putting its cards on the table. That is the case. Its official declared policy is now defined as 'full spectrum dominance'. That is not my term, it is theirs. 'Full spectrum dominance' means control of land, sea, air and space and all attendant resources.

The United States now occupies 702 military installations throughout the world in 132 countries, with the honourable exception of Sweden, of course. We don't quite know how they got there but they are there all right.

The United States possesses 8,000 active and operational nuclear warheads. Two thousand are on hair trigger alert, ready to be launched with 15 minutes warning. It is developing new systems of nuclear force, known as bunker busters. The British, ever cooperative, are intending to replace their own nuclear missile, Trident. Who, I wonder, are they aiming at? Osama bin Laden? You? Me? Joe Dokes? China? Paris? Who knows? What we do know is that this infantile insanity – the possession and threatened use of nuclear weapons – is at the heart of present American political philosophy. We must remind ourselves that the United States is on a permanent military footing and shows no sign of relaxing it.

Many thousands, if not millions, of people in the United States itself are demonstrably sickened, shamed and angered by their government's actions, but as things stand they are not a coherent political force – yet. But the anxiety, uncertainty and fear which we can see growing daily in the United States is unlikely to diminish.

I know that President Bush has many extremely competent speech writers but I would like to volunteer for the job myself. I propose the following short address which he can make on television to the nation. I see him grave, hair carefully combed, serious, winning, sincere, often beguiling, sometimes employing a wry smile, curiously attractive, a man's man.

'God is good. God is great. God is good. My God is good. Bin Laden's God is bad. His is a bad God. Saddam's God was bad, except he didn't have one. He was a barbarian. We are not barbarians. We don't chop people's heads off. We believe in freedom. So does God. I am not a barbarian. I am the democratically elected leader of a freedom-loving democracy. We are a compassionate society. We give compassionate electrocution and compassionate lethal injection. We are a great nation. I am not a dictator. He is. I am not a barbarian. He is. And he is. They all are. I possess moral authority. You see this fist? This is my moral authority. And don't you forget it.'

A writer's life is a highly vulnerable, almost naked activity. We don't have to weep about that. The writer makes his choice and is stuck with it. But it is true to say that you are open to all the winds, some of them icy indeed. You are out on your own, out on a limb. You find no shelter, no protection – unless you lie – in which case of course you have constructed your own protection and, it could be argued, become a politician.

I have referred to death quite a few times this evening. I shall now quote a poem of my own called 'Death'.

Where was the dead body found?
Who found the dead body?
Was the dead body dead when found?
How was the dead body found?

Who was the dead body?

Who was the father or daughter or brother
Or uncle or sister or mother or son
Of the dead and abandoned body?

Was the body dead when abandoned?
Was the body abandoned?
By whom had it been abandoned?

Was the dead body naked or dressed for a journey?

What made you declare the dead body dead?
Did you declare the dead body dead?
How well did you know the dead body?
How did you know the dead body was dead?

Did you wash the dead body
Did you close both its eyes
Did you bury the body
Did you leave it abandoned
Did you kiss the dead body

When we look into a mirror we think the image that confronts us is accurate. But move a millimetre and the image changes. We are actually looking at a never-ending range of reflections. But sometimes a writer has to smash the mirror – for it is on the other side of that mirror that the truth stares at us.

I believe that despite the enormous odds which exist, unflinching, unswerving, fierce intellectual determination, as citizens, to define the real truth of our lives and our societies is a crucial obligation which devolves upon us all. It is in fact mandatory.

If such a determination is not embodied in our political vision we have no hope of restoring what is so nearly lost to us – the dignity of man.

French Clowns???

Tue, 04 Apr 2006 02:50:14 GMT

misplacedsanity: french clowns, as if clowns weren't bad enough
misplacedsanity: its like going to the doctor and being told that not only have you got cancer but you've got french cancer

OMG!

Wed, 29 Mar 2006 04:41:21 GMT

NEIL DIAMOND, NEIL FUCKING GENIUS DIAMOND!
That is all.

Homer Simpson Quotes

Mon, 20 Mar 2006 14:22:53 GMT

Lisa: Maybe we should write another letter. One that says goodbye, but lets her feel loved.
Homer: Step aside everyone! Sensitive love letters are my specialty. "Dear Baby, Welcome to Dumpsville, population: You"

Homer: Hey, if you're going to get mad at me every time I do something stupid, then I guess I'll just have to stop doing stupid things.

A List of let-down lines Homer's heard:
"I like you as a friend"
"I think we should see other people"
"I no speak English"
"I don't want to kill you, but I will..."

Teacher: Now, I'm going to burn this donut to show you how many calories it has.
Homer: Nooooo!
Teacher: The bright blue flame indicates this was a particularly sweet donut.
Homer (sobbing): This is not happening! This is not happening!

Mr Burns: Who the devil are you?
Homer's Brain: Don't panic, just come up with a good story.
Homer: My name is Mr Burns.
Homer's Brain: D'oh!

Marge: I'm sorry, Homer doesn't mean to be rude. He's just a very complicated man.
Homer (leaning out of a window, breaking a plate on his head): Wrong!

Lisa: I like him, he's smart, he's sensitive, he's clearly not obsessed with his physical appearance.
Homer: My ears are burning.
Lisa: Uh, I wasn't talking about you, dad.
Homer: No, my ears are really burning. I wanted to see inside so I lit a Q-tip.

Homer: Marge, you being a cop makes you the man. Which makes me the woman - and I have no interest in that, besides occasionally wearing the underwear, which, as we discussed, is strictly a comfort thing.

Homer: Stealing? How could you? Haven't you learned anything from that guy who gives those sermons at church? Captain What's-his-name? We live in a society of laws. Why do you think I took you to all those Police Academy movies? For fun? Well I didn't hear anybody laughing, did you?

Homer: Maybe for once someone will call me "Sir" without adding "you're making a scene"

Bart: What religion are you?
Homer: You know, the one with all the well-meaning rules that don't work out in real life, uh, Christianity.

Homer: Oh my God! Space Aliens! Don't eat me! I have a wife and kids! Eat them!

Homer: Oh honey, I didn't get drunk. I just went to a strange fantasy world!

Marge: You know Homer, it's easy to criticise...
Homer (butting in): Fun too.

Bart: Cool! God is so in-your-face!
Homer: Yeah, he's my favourite fictional character.

Homer: I paid my taxes over a year ago!

Homer: I'm not normally a praying man. But if you're up there, please save me Superman!

Homer: I'm gonna die! Jesus, Allah, Buddha - I love you all!

Mr Burns: Simpson! I need your help, I want to be loved.
Homer: I see. Well, I'll need some beer...

Man: You must be stupider than you look.
Homer: Stupider like a fox!

Homer: It takes two to lie – one to lie and one to listen.

Homer: Oh, I love your magazine. My favourite section is “How To Increase Your Word Power”, that thing is really, really, really good.

Belle: Your son was trespassing on my property and destroyed a very valuable stone gargoyle, and - are you wearing a grocery bag?
Homer: I have misplaced my pants.

Homer: Marge, there’s just too much pressure, what with my job, the kids, traffic snarls, political strife at home and abroad. But I promise you, the second that all those things go away, we'll have sex.

Homer: Just squeeze your rage into a bitter little ball and release it at an appropriate time. Like that day I hit the referee with a whisky bottle - remember that?

Marge: Is this the way you pictured married life?
Homer: Pretty much, except we drove around in a van solving mysteries.

Homer: When will I learn? The answers to life’s problems aren't at the bottom of a bottle – they're on TV!

Homer: Must destroy mankind! (his watch alarm goes off) Ooh, lunchtime.

Homer: It was the most I ever threw up, and it changed my life forever.

Homer: Weaselling out of things is important to learn. It’s what’s separates us from the animals, except the weasel.

Homer: I'm a bad father!
Selma: You're also fat!
Homer: I'm also fat!

Homer: My mom once said something that really stuck with me. She said, "Homer, you're a big disappointment", and, God bless her soul, she was really onto something.

Homer: I'm a lonely insignificant on a has-been planet orbited by a cold, indifferent sun!

Homer: I saw weird stuff in that place last night. Weird, strange, sick, twisted, eerie, godless, evil stuff - and I want in!

Homer: Marge, look at me! We've been separated for a day, and I'm as dirty as a Frenchman. In another few hours I'll be dead.

Marge: Homer, there’s a man here who thinks he can help you.
Homer: Batman?
Marge: No, he’s a scientist.
Homer: Batman’s a scientist.
Marge: It’s not batman!

Homer (explaining his absence from work): You heard me, I won't be in for the rest of the week…I told you, my baby beat me up…Oh it is not the worst excuse I ever thought up.

Homer: Mr Scorpio says productivity is up 2% and it’s all because of my motivational techniques, like donuts, and the possibility of more donuts to come.

Homer: It’s just that I've only seen this movie twice before, and I've seen you every night for the last eleven ye…What I mean to say is: we'll snuggle tomorrow, sweetie.

Homer: Television - teacher, mother, secret lover!

Homer: Look Marge, I'm sorry I haven't been a better husband. I'm sorry about the time I tried to make gravy in the bathtub. I'm sorry I used your wedding dress to wax the car, and I'm sorry - oh well, let’s just say I'm sorry for the whole marriage up to this point.

Homer: We always have one good kid and one lousy kid. Why can't both our kids be good?
Marge: We have three kids, Homer.
Homer: Marge, the dog doesn't count as a kid!

Homer: Where is Bart anyway, his dinner’s getting all cold and eaten.

Homer: To alcohol! The cause of - and solution to - all of life’s problems!

Homer: Let that be a lesson to ya sweetie, never love anything.
Lisa: Even you?
Homer: Especially me.

Homer: They won't let me in the big people's library downtown. There was some...unpleasantness. I can never go back.

Homer: It's a handgun! Isn't it great? This is the trigger, and this is the thing you point at whatever you want to die.

Jay Sherman: Nice to meet you Marge, I saw your hair from the plane. And you must be the man who didn't know if he had a pimple or a boil.
Homer: It was a gummi bear.

Conversations with a mad man.

Fri, 10 Mar 2006 11:11:18 GMT

example 1:

p wrote:
Subject:
Does anyone name their kid Adolf anymore
Discuss.

R wrote:
I'm sure many people call there children Adolf, not
all of them obviously, that would be confusing and
stupid. In conclusion, No I don't think Vicky will
allow you to call your first born "Adolf". Although
this should be something to discuss with Vicky not me.
And as much as I respect and admire you as a friend I
don't intend on having any children with you. But yes,
if we did have children Pete I would not only allow
but insist that they should be called Adolf.

p wrote:
Bo
I had a definite no to the Adolf naming scenario.
In fact it was a very quick and thoughtless NO.
Perusable on principal...
Adolf R, do you think he'll be leading the country by 2040?
Shaping a better world?

Example 2:

r wrote:
Dear Mr R are you lying asleep in your drunken
filth? Or like me are you on the internet trying to
fill in your worthless hours of free time by trawling
the world wide web of the sad, bored and depraved?
I sometimes think I may be spending too much time on
the net, but that only usually happens when I have a
puddle in my lap and the dishes still haven't been
done. Oh well, the dishes never kept me from sleeping
at night, my penis often dose. On the other hand its
never taken me 5 hours to do the dishes. I'll say one
thing for dial up, it may be slow, it may make my
genitals painful to the touch, buts its certainly
given me stamina.
Anyway, Im very very bored, I took the day off work
today because I had a feeling if I went I was going to
die, well maybe not actually die, but certainly not
enjoy it as much as spending all day in bed. And fuck
me if I wasn't right. The only downside of this
equation is by the time it gets to three in the
morning you kinda run out of things to do and end up
mailing people as a means to stop yourself going
totally mad.
So here I am, climing the fucking wall.

warmest regards

brutal death blade.

p wrote:
Brutal death blade,
This may have summed it all up nicely, "its never taken me 5 hours to do the dishes".In the same way that 10 minutes of tidying up makes a room
atmospherically pleasing, the prelude was often an incentive to enjoy the washing up more. Not the same, I can't be excused, forgive me father, I am a worm.
If there was ever a reason to have it all explained, it never got more
inexcusable and more frustrating than searching for the specific that
no-one had thought of transcribing to print.
I mean why would any man want to see a picture of example:: buffy in a
school dress fingering her asshole whilst faith cleaned her big toes
with an E-cloth followed by an invisible and unexplainable spunking instrument? I ask why has this never been documented, why?, because then we would never give up and end up at 18up.com following routine, they want us
to sheep through life, monitoring is easy that way.
Don't worry, the holy grail was never meant to be found, it was the quest
that was important, but then who is it we refer to via the second person?
Questions are endless, I say we just want the unobtainable, or until
certain filth becomes mainstream, in which case looking for retards with pigs corkscrew dicks at their nape becomes the ultimate in bounty.
Bored sir, too many complications, too many thoughts,
He of no help

The mighty semi-flacid pinapple bonanza.

Example 3:

r wrote:
Hello Mr R you big sack of joy you.
Would it be possible for you to take a moment
out of your busy frapping schedule to tell me what
exactly this whole life things about?

p wrote:
why ask me? my meaning of life was realised, missed, and consequently
suffered for every living moment of my life, maybe the answer you're looking
for is within yourself, maybe if you finger your asshole and spunk in your
face it will all become clear, then again, maybe not.

r wrote:
Pete are you trying to tell me you're gay?

p wrote:
Not at all brother, apparently if you're not willing
to share the magic elixir you are Hitler in his bunker
wishing for Jew sanitisation.
I've met oddness in my time, but those willing to
testify to the cheesey sack, but place it in a tissue
are as unworthy as those who nag their
partners for that which they are unwilling to do for
themselves. I am still, under this argument, trying to
protect myself from the black mamba.
Not gay sir, not trying to make society a-sexual,
mearly trying to see beyond the apple induced sleep, which
I would swap for all time, IF I could dream lucidly in a
state of coma.

r wrote:
Pete, now please don't take this the wrong way, but
I sometimes have just a tiny little bit of trouble
trying to figure out what exactly it is you are
trying to express...........
This for example: " apparently if you're not willing
to share the magicelixir you are Hitler in his bunker
wishing for Jew sanitisation."
I mean, what exactly does that mean? Ive read and
reread it and still I am at a loss? I can't even
make a guess at it.
And if that wasn't bad enough, then we have this:
"I've met oddness in my time, but those willing to
testify to the cheesey sack,"
Pete, put the bottle down, take a deep breath, close
your eyes, stop looking at the filth, clear your
mind.......Now.......
Remember language, the english language, its not a
matter of just stringing a group of words together is
it? I know these are difficult times and you don't have
a lot of time to write these mails inbetween
trying to pull off your own genitals. But please try to
make a little bit of sense.
Yours beggingly
Sane Bob

P wrote:
Dude, I get this all the time, apparentrly the
tangents are not acceptable to the sesame street
mindset. Not to worry , Elmo is here to
translate..............
Simply rest your weary head.
Think about that which you seek ever-long.
The clue is in the stew.

Example 4:

r wrote:
Go to bed you fool, only an idiot would be up at this time!

p wrote:
LISTEN YOU BLOODY STUMP, IT IS THE TIME WHEN ALL THOSE WHO APPRECIATE
TIME CHOOSE TO SPEND THEIR TIME NOT ASLEEP, ALTHOUGH I GIVE FATIGUE IS
REARING IT'S UGLY HEAD.
WORK IN 5.7 HOURS, NO-ONE THERE IS CALLED ADOLF EITHER.

The best news in the world ever.

Fri, 10 Mar 2006 00:15:29 GMT

Peep Show has been green-lit for a fourth series

Blitzkrieg!

Quotes

Thu, 09 Mar 2006 15:19:15 GMT

Just a bunch of quotes I found, from various sources, no running theme's.

The best thing is not to hate anyone, only to love. That is the only way out of it. As soon as you have forgiven those whom you hate, you have gotten rid of them. Then you have no reason to hate them; you just forget.

- Hazrat Inayat Khan

Thomas: Did you ever read the Bible, Catherine?
Catherine: A long time ago.
Thomas: Did you ever notice how in the Bible when God needed to punish someone .. make an example, or whenever God needed a killing .. he sent an angel. Have you ever wondered what a creature like that must be like? Your whole existence praising your God but always with one wing dipped in blood. Would you ever really want to see an angel?

-Gregory Widen

"Show me a man who lives alone and has a perpetually clean kitchen, and 8 times out of 9 I'll show you a man with detestable spiritual qualities

-Charles Bukowski

"An Atheist loves himself and his fellow man instead of a god. An Atheist accepts that heaven is something for which we should work now -- here on earth -- for all men together to enjoy. An Atheist accepts that he can get no help through prayer, but that he must find in himself the inner conviction and strength to meet life, to grapple with it, to subdue it and to enjoy it. An Atheist accepts that only in a knowledge of himself and a knowledge of his fellow man can he find the understanding that will help to a life of fulfillment."

~Murray v. Curlett, 1959

As soon as men decide that all means are permitted to fight an evil, then their good becomes indistinguishable from the evil that they set out to destroy.

- Christopher Dawson

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

- Friedrich Nietzsche

"There's only us, there's only this. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other road, no other day. No day but today."

--Jonathan Larson

"Without music, life would be a mistake"

- Nietzsche

"Do not gloss over death to me, I would rather be above ground still, working for some poor penniless man than be king over all the lifeless dead"

-Homer

"The first ten thousand years were the worst. The second ten thousand years, they were the worst too. The third ten thousand years I didn't enjoy at all. After that I went into a bit of a decline."

- Marvin the Paranoid Android

"You're wasting your time," Doc Daneeka was forced to tell him.
"Can't you ground someone who's crazy?"
"Oh, sure. I have to. There's a rule saying I have to ground anyone who's crazy."
"Then why don't you ground me? I'm crazy. Ask Clevinger."
"Clevinger? Where is Clevinger? You find Clevinger and I'll ask him."
"Then ask any of the others. They'll tell you how crazy I am."
"They're crazy."
"Then why don't you ground them?"
"Why don't they ask me to ground them?"
"Because they're crazy, that's why."
"Of course they're crazy," Doc Daneeka replied. "I just told you they're crazy, didn't I? And you can't let crazy people decide whether you're crazy or not, can you?"
Yossarian looked at him soberly and tried another approach. "Is Orr crazy?"
"He sure is," Doc Daneeka said.
"Can you ground him?"
"I sure can. But first he has to ask me to. That's part of the rule."
"Then why doesn't he ask you to?"
"Because he's crazy," Doc Daneeka said. "He has to be crazy to keep flying combat missions after all the close call's he's had. Sure, I can ground Orr. But first he has to ask me to."
"That's all he has to do to be grounded?"
"That's all. Let him ask me."
"And then you can ground him?" Yossarian asked.
"No. Then I can't ground him."
"You mean there's a catch?"
"Sure there's a catch," Doc Daneeka replied. "Catch-22. Anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn't really crazy."
There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to. Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of this clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle.
"That's some catch, that Catch-22," he observed.
"It's the best there is," Doc Daneeka agreed

-Joseph Heller,

The wireless telegraph is not difficult to understand. The ordinary telegraph is like a very long cat. You pull the tail in New York, and it meows in Los Angeles. The wireless is the same, only without the cat.

- Albert Einstein

Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.

- Frank Zappa

Wisest is he who knows he does not know.

- Socrates

The rich are different from you and me: they have more money.

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

"The biggest cause of trouble in the world today is that the stupid people are so sure about things and the intelligent folks are so full of doubts."

-Betrand Russell

"If God made us in His image we have certainly returned the compliment."

-Voltaire

"No man ever believes that the Bible means what it says; he is always convinced that it says what he means."

-George Bernard Shaw

"It is raining DNA outside. On the bank of the Oxford canal at the bottom of my garden is a large willow tree, and it is pumping downy seeds into the air...The whole performance, cotton wool, catkins, tree and all, is in aid of one thing and one thing only, the spreading of DNA around the countryside. Not just any DNA, but DNA whose coded characters spell out specific instructions for building willow trees that will shed a new generation of downy seeds. Those fluffy specks are, literally, spreading instructions for making themselves. They are there because their ancestors succeeded in doing the same. It is raining instructions out there; it's raining programs; it's raining tree-growing, fluff-spreading, algorithms. That is not a metaphor, it is the plain truth. It couldn't be any plainer if it were raining floppy discs."

-Richard Dawkins

"The ideal form of government is democracy tempered with assassination."

-Voltaire

"Things should be made as simple as possible, but not any simpler."

-Albert Einstein

"And don't tell me God works in mysterious ways," Yossarian continued. hurtling on over her objection. "There's nothing so mysterious about it. He's not working at all. He's playing. Or else he's forgotten all about us. That's the kind of God you people talk about -- a country bumpkin, a clumsy, bungling, brainless, conceited, uncouth hayseed. Good God, how much reverence can you have for a Supreme Being who finds it necessary to include such phenomena as phlegm and tooth decay in His divine system of creation? What in the world was running through that warped, evil, scatalogical mind of His when He robbed old people of the power to control their bowel movements? Why in the world did He ever create pain?"
"Pain?" Lieutenant Scheisskopf's wife pounced upon the word victoriously. "Pain is a useful symptom. Pain is a warning to us of bodily dangers."
"And who created the dangers?" Yossarian demanded. He laughed caustically. "Oh, He was really being charitable to us when He gave us pain! Why couldn't He have used a doorbell instead to notify us, or one of his celestial choirs? Or a system of blue-and-red neon tubes right in the middle of each person's forehead. Any jukebox manufacturer worth his salt could have done that. Why couldn't He?"
"People would certainly look silly walking around with red neon tubes in the middle of their foreheads."
"They certainly look beautiful now writhing in agony or stupified with morphine, don't they? What a colossal, immortal blunderer! When you consider the opportunity and power He had to really do a job, and then look at the stupid, ugly little mess He make of it instead, His sheer incompetence is almost staggering. It's obvious He never met a payroll. Why, no self-respecting businessman would hire a bungler like Him as even a shipping clerk!"

-Joseph Heller

"There are better things in life than alcohol, but alcohol makes up for not having them"

-Terry Pratchett

Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the clouds of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron.

-Dwight Eisenhower

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction....The chain reaction of evil -- hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars -- must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.

-Dr. Martin Luther King Jr

When I went back to Germany [after the war], I was stunned at how the Nazis had been able to take control of the country when nobody seemed to have supported them. Everyone I met there had opposed the Nazis, everyone there had fought in the resistance."

-Director Billy Wilder

"In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, five hundred years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock."

-Harry Lime

"Money can't buy you happiness, but it can buy you a yacht big enough to pull up right alongside it."

"I tried jogging, but the ice cubes kept falling out of my glass."

-David Lee Roth

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.
But why would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life: I chose something else.
And the reasons?
There are no reasons.
Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?
People think it's all about misery and desperation and death and all that shite, which is not to be ignored, but what they forget is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn't do it. After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid.
Take the best orgasm you ever had, multiply it by a thousand and you're still nowhere near it. When you're on junk you have only one worry: scoring. When you're off it you are suddenly obliged to worry about all sorts of other shite. Got no money: can't get pissed. Got money: drinking too much. Can't get a bird: no chance of a ride. Got a bird: too much hassle. You have to worry about bills, about food, about some football team that never fucking wins, about human relationships and all the things that really don't matter when you've got a sincere and truthful junk habit.

-Irvine Welsh

By the way, if anyone here is in advertising or marketing, kill yourself. Thank you, thank you. Just a little thought. I'm just trying to plant seeds. Maybe one day they'll take root. I don't know. You try. You do what you can. Kill yourselves. Seriously though, if you are, do. No really, there's no rationalisation for what you do, and you are Satan's little helpers, OK? Kill yourselves, seriously. You're the ruiner of all things good. Seriously, no, this is not a joke. "There's gonna be a joke coming..." There's no fucking joke coming, you are Satan's spawn, filling the world with bile and garbage, you are fucked and you are fucking us, kill yourselves, it's the only way to save your fucking soul. Kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself now. Now, back to the show.
"You know what Bill's doing now, he's going for the righteous indignation dollar, that's a big dollar, a lot of people are feeling that indignation, we've done research, huge market. He's doing a good thing." Godammit, I'm not doing that, you scumbags, quit putting a godamn dollar sign on every fucking thing on this planet!

-Bill Hicks

(Monty walks into bathroom, looks in the mirror. Sees "Fuck You!" written in corner of mirror.)
Monty: Yeah, fuck you, too.
Monty's Reflection: Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.
Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back.
Fuck squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job!
Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores and stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. Slow the fuck down!
Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35.
Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English?
Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from!
Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds!
Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gecko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Imclone! Adelphia! Worldcom!
Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, because they make the Puerto Ricans look good.
Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, and their St. Anthony medallions. Swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos.
Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermés scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart!
Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on!
Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust!
Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin Otisville, Jay!
Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Alqueda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal, Irish ass!
Fuck Jacob Elinski, whining malcontent.
Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass.
Fuck Naturel Rivera. I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back. Sold me up the river. Fucking bitch.
Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar. Sipping on club soda, selling whiskey to firemen and cheering the Bronx Bombers.
Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue. From the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park slope to the split levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it. Let the fires rage. Let it burn to fuckin ash then let the waters rise and submerge this whole, rat-infested place.
Monty: No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all and then you threw it away, you dumb fuck!
(takes a breath and tries to rub away words)

-David Benioff

Wed, 21 Jan 2004 23:17:52 GMT

Probably the worst part of being a King is having to sentence someone to death. If I had to hang some poor guy, I'd tell him that I'd like to let him go, except that "I'm kind of in the doghouse right now." Then I'd cough and point at the Queen.

Is it morally right to sell your child to someone for a lot of money? I mean, even if you know the kid's not worth it? Caveat emptor, right?

You can lead a horse to water, but you sure can't grab it by the mane and try to drown it without attracting the attention of those 'liberal, non-horse-killing' types.

If you had a million monkeys at a million typewriters, and you could wait an infinite number of hours, eventually all the monkeys would get hit by lightning. Then, if you taped it, you could edit out all the dull parts and put together a seriously funny half-hour show.

Is jail really a deterrent for criminals? Maybe. It has to be better than capital punishment, anyway, which is no deterrent at all. To anybody who thinks different, I have two words: thief ghosts.

Mon, 19 Jan 2004 01:22:23 GMT

say, if someone can't tell the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite, then maybe they don't deserve to have it lifted up off them.

"Come on, eat the baby," said the Devil. "Oh, just eat it. Come on, just eat the baby. No, it'll be fine. No, really, no one's gonna care. Come on, just eat the bab- FOOL! Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Man, I am so gullible.

If the government really didn't want me to have sex with children, I'm sure they would have made a law about it by now. No, I mean about me specifically.

If I was going to commit suicide, I think I'd jump off a building with little wings taped to my back. That way people wouldn't think I was depressed, but inventive.

If I ever became a super genius, I hope I wouldn't be too big a person to really lord it over retarded people.

I sure hope that dull throbbing in my heart is just sadness, and not maggots or something.

My dad used to work at an orphanage, and I think it really depressed him that so many kids didn't have homes. So he'd always be bringing home a new brother or sister for me. Then he'd sell them, and buy expensive steak.

Teenagers can be very cruel sometimes. I remember how me and my friends would wait by the bathroom, and call little Eddy Dreskin "homo" and "fag" because he was small and didn't dress well. Then, still chuckling, we would all walk into the bathroom and ream each other's assholes with our penises. And never once did the irony of it all occur to us, that we too weren't all that fashionable in our choice of clothing and clothing accessories. Ah, to be so naive again.

Sun, 18 Jan 2004 05:15:20 GMT

I'm a firm believer that when you're driving, it shouldn't matter whether or not you're drunk if you're intentionally trying to hit people.

"Oh GOD!" she moaned. "You're...so... good!" She's right, I thought. I am pretty good. So why was she having sex with him, then? And couldn't they keep it down a bit? I was trying to sleep.

It sure isn't funny to see a guy in a wheelchair try to get up a flight of steps, when there isn't a ramp. Even when I rocked around in the wheelchair I'd rented, flapping my arms around and making rocket noises, I couldn't get a laugh.

If I had my say, I would have made it so Hitler went to Heaven instead of Hell. Think about it. In Heaven, everybody'd be giving him dirty looks and swatting him in the head for all eternity. In Hell, he'd just be getting high-fives all the time.

When I die, I hope I can get a coffin perfectly molded to my body, so it looks like a big giant me, only made out of wood. Then I could make a deal with the carpenter to carve me a six foot penis.

If you're a doctor, and you know one of your patients is going to die soon, it must be really tempting to tell them they're just fine, so they can live out the rest of their days happily. I would imagine it would also be pretty tempting to play with the corpse once they're dead, and pose it for pictures and stuff.

It sure would be great if the meek did inherit the Earth. Because then I could just take it from them.

Libraries would be a lot more fun if they thought it was real funny when you made sound effects to the book you were reading, instead of just making you leave and telling you not to come back.

Tue, 15 Jul 2003 01:21:21 GMT

Hes not the messiah, hes a very naughty boy. Now piss off!

Mon, 09 Jun 2003 01:02:55 GMT

Been listening to Tori Amos all day.
The womans a genius.
Haven't felt this good about music since the bee gee's started to die off

Thu, 29 May 2003 23:24:57 GMT

Have you noticed how cars never go off the side of cliffs in movies anymore. Just thought I'd mention it.

Mon, 21 Apr 2003 05:56:31 GMT

So I just finished watching "Misery" (the Bob Riener, Stephen King film) and the whole way through I'm thinking, "Hey, Kathy Bates isn't that bad, I wish she'd pull me out the snow and strap me to the bed."
I swear I'm seriously considering going out more.