Red Mosquito

bart wrote:ruddo was never a private

epilogue wrote:

bart wrote:ruddo was never a private

No, I think he was talking to his dick.

bart wrote:

epilogue wrote:

bart wrote:ruddo was never a private

No, I think he was talking to his dick.

Ah my apologies. Carry on everyone

tommy wrote:

Sloppy Dupree wrote:My dog poop-related irrational hatred is when my hands are too try to open the bag and I have to moisten my fingertips. As if the poop wasn’t gross enough, now I have spittle on my hands.

You've gotta rub the bag opening between your palms.

E.H. Ruddock wrote:My 52 year old brother in law who is stuck in the 80's punk scene where he peaked, and still refers to things as "punk as fuck"

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

Jorge wrote:When you're withdrawing money from an ATM in Colombia, it shows you the exchange rate (my account is in USD, and I'm withdrawing Colombian pesos). It says, "This is the exchange rate. Are you OK with it?" I always thought pressing "No" would cancel the transaction and give me my card back. The rate was pretty bad, but I figured it was my only option, so I kept hitting "Yes."

Turns out, if you press "No," it doesn't cancel the operation, but instead it offers you A BETTER EXCHANGE RATE! I didn’t realize I was haggling with a fucking ATM. Terrible

E.H. Ruddock wrote:

Jorge wrote:When you're withdrawing money from an ATM in Colombia, it shows you the exchange rate (my account is in USD, and I'm withdrawing Colombian pesos). It says, "This is the exchange rate. Are you OK with it?" I always thought pressing "No" would cancel the transaction and give me my card back. The rate was pretty bad, but I figured it was my only option, so I kept hitting "Yes."

Turns out, if you press "No," it doesn't cancel the operation, but instead it offers you A BETTER EXCHANGE RATE! I didn’t realize I was haggling with a fucking ATM. Terrible

This is amazing