Red Mosquito

daft twat wrote:Any Facebook post that begins, “Does anyone know of a reasonably priced…” Go fuck yourself.

Jorge wrote:

daft twat wrote:Any Facebook post that begins, “Does anyone know of a reasonably priced…” Go fuck yourself.

Why

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.

Sloppy Dupree wrote:When able-bodied people don’t walk up and down escalators while they’re moving. Or is that rational?

Sloppy Dupree wrote:When able-bodied people don’t walk up and down escalators while they’re moving. Or is that rational?

bart wrote:DC people absolutely love to show how busy and important they are by taking the metro escalators as fast as possible. I try to make sure I’m in their way.

Monkey_Driven wrote:

bart wrote:DC people absolutely love to show how busy and important they are by taking the metro escalators as fast as possible. I try to make sure I’m in their way.

They're all going to lose their jobs

tragabigzanda wrote:Megan and Harry. Utterly useless.

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.

The Argonaut wrote:

Sloppy Dupree wrote:When able-bodied people don’t walk up and down escalators while they’re moving. Or is that rational?

Fair question, Sloppy. We've more or less decided that the word "irrational" can either mean that the hatred itself is irrational or that the hatred is rational but that you feel it with irrational strength

Sloppy Dupree wrote:

The Argonaut wrote:

Sloppy Dupree wrote:When able-bodied people don’t walk up and down escalators while they’re moving. Or is that rational?

Fair question, Sloppy. We've more or less decided that the word "irrational" can either mean that the hatred itself is irrational or that the hatred is rational but that you feel it with irrational strength

Oh I definitely feel it with irrational strength. Mainly because I encounter an escalator roughly four to six times a day, and I’m lucky if, even once per day, the person in front of me is a walker

epilogue wrote:

Sloppy Dupree wrote:

The Argonaut wrote:

Sloppy Dupree wrote:When able-bodied people don’t walk up and down escalators while they’re moving. Or is that rational?

Fair question, Sloppy. We've more or less decided that the word "irrational" can either mean that the hatred itself is irrational or that the hatred is rational but that you feel it with irrational strength

Oh I definitely feel it with irrational strength. Mainly because I encounter an escalator roughly four to six times a day, and I’m lucky if, even once per day, the person in front of me is a walker

Why can't you take the stairs?

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.

tragabigzanda wrote:

Chris_H_2 wrote:

epilogue wrote:

Sloppy Dupree wrote:

The Argonaut wrote:

Sloppy Dupree wrote:When able-bodied people don’t walk up and down escalators while they’re moving. Or is that rational?

Fair question, Sloppy. We've more or less decided that the word "irrational" can either mean that the hatred itself is irrational or that the hatred is rational but that you feel it with irrational strength

Oh I definitely feel it with irrational strength. Mainly because I encounter an escalator roughly four to six times a day, and I’m lucky if, even once per day, the person in front of me is a walker

Why can't you take the stairs?

if i've taught my kids one thing that i hope they pass on to their kids, it's that if you have the opportunity, always take the stairs over the elevator/escalator.

didn't one of your kids just lose her ankles or something

Chris_H_2 wrote:

epilogue wrote:

Sloppy Dupree wrote:

The Argonaut wrote:

Sloppy Dupree wrote:When able-bodied people don’t walk up and down escalators while they’re moving. Or is that rational?

Fair question, Sloppy. We've more or less decided that the word "irrational" can either mean that the hatred itself is irrational or that the hatred is rational but that you feel it with irrational strength

Oh I definitely feel it with irrational strength. Mainly because I encounter an escalator roughly four to six times a day, and I’m lucky if, even once per day, the person in front of me is a walker

Why can't you take the stairs?

if i've taught my kids one thing that i hope they pass on to their kids, it's that if you have the opportunity, always take the stairs over the elevator/escalator.