Red Mosquito

bodysnatcher wrote:I blame this guy for the current state of indulgent sandwich sizes

bodysnatcher wrote:Agreed. Hamburgers, sandwiches, burritos. All of them out of control. Gotta do it for the ‘gram, brah!

Absolutely hate this new trend of foods being too much. Would rather pay less for less food And not have to eat something like a goblin.

Higgs wrote:To Spike - it's like a semi-pickled capsicum (peppers), artichoke, olive mix. Good stuff.

And the size is almost perfect. The bread is crusty on the outside but squishy in the middle, perfect size to squeeze into a mouthful bite. Y'all will see when I start my live stream in a few hours.

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:Sounds like one of my aunts has fully lost her mind. Textbook stuff: started to follow a new agey self help program a couple years ago which eventually revealed itself to be a whole-ass religion, slowly became more and more strict, kicked my uncle out of the bedroom because they're "living in sin" since they're not married through her new church, she started referring to someone as "the leader." Now she's moved back to Colombia (they live in north Florida) to spread the teachings, and she's refusing to come back home. She's telling my uncle and their children to leave the USA as something is about to decimate it during this year's Holy Week, but she won't elaborate further. Her whole family is very worried about her. Except me, I never liked her

JuanHamm wrote:

Jorge wrote:Sounds like one of my aunts has fully lost her mind. Textbook stuff: started to follow a new agey self help program a couple years ago which eventually revealed itself to be a whole-ass religion, slowly became more and more strict, kicked my uncle out of the bedroom because they're "living in sin" since they're not married through her new church, she started referring to someone as "the leader." Now she's moved back to Colombia (they live in north Florida) to spread the teachings, and she's refusing to come back home. She's telling my uncle and their children to leave the USA as something is about to decimate it during this year's Holy Week, but she won't elaborate further. Her whole family is very worried about her. Except me, I never liked her

We should organize a team of RMers to go and rescue her.

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.

tree_ wrote:I might be interested in enlisting in this religion. What's it called?