Eclectic Views

    
Now, if you had invested in Kevlar brand steel toed boots, you
wouldn't have that problem <mpk>.
  

    

> Boys and their toys

Typical, absolutely typical, stereotypical put down. Since you feel that
way, you can't play with my toys. Or my dog.
  

    

This topic should live as a window to part of the Well experience.
  

    
What are you, some kind of raving gun nut?
  

    

That's just not groovy, man. Can you dig it?
  

    
I bet he believes in the death penalty, too.
  

    
What a Nazi.
  

    
Who you calling Nazi?
  

    
That Nazi over there.
  

    
Oh, him. 

Plus I bet he has a Windows machine.
  

    
OS Groupie!
  

    
I'm looking for a Merry Christmas thrash.  Anyone in the mood to
comply?
  

    

Why don't you start off with an unsupportable and biased assertion?
  

    
Compliance may be fleeting, but interest is surely not waning.
  

    
Chill winds and snow, rampant consumerism, obligatory gift exchange
(frequently followed by returns), tangled strings of colored lights, knotted
masses of fake icicles, tinder-dry trees cut from their roots to serve for a
few weeks as support for ornaments, frenetic last minute shopping for
presents and food, hours of preparation and then hours of recovery after the
feast.

Yeah, Merry Chirstmas.  ;^)
  

    
What IS your problem?  This is all part of the glory of Christmas,
it's part and parcel of our culture, and it's what makes the economy go
round.  What would be GREAT is if everybody just stopped bitching
about the season's greetings and got with the program and enjoyed the
spirit of Christmas without griping about the long lines at Target and
having to butter up the door frames so Aunt Agnes can heave herself
into the living room with the molded Jello salad of many ingredients
and jump-starting your cerebral cortex through an eggnog-induced fog so
you can join the annual heated argument for what must be, what, the
fiftieth time over whether Miracle Whip is better than Best Foods, and
whether said Jello when placed on iceberg lettuce and topped with
either MW or BF actually constitutes a salad course, and then listen to
Grandpa drone on and on how things aren't like they used to be when
everyone pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, and hell they didn't
even HAVE bootstraps but had to make them out of cat guts, by God, and
they were lucky to have them, not like nowadays when Missy here has to
have a different set of doodads for each Bratz doll that comes along
and Buddy hasn't let go of his Wii for so long that he's grown
telephone machine wires down through his wrists and into that damned
doohickey and wouldn't know a job if it bit him in the ass, ah Jesus on
a pogo stick, now that was a toy you could give a kid and see the joy
in his eyes and know that he'd learn to play with it and bust up his
knees and probably break an arm or at least a window, but godDAMN it
built character, and then he'd go a build a fort out of the cardboard
box and shoot some damned Injuns and throw dirt clods at those rotten
Martin boys who just never were brought up right, and where the HELL is
that gravy boat?
  

    

Someone is clearly off his meds.
  

    
(snort)
  

    
Well, yeah, but we don't have an ice floe handy, and getting Grandpa
to cooperate would be a whole nother can of worms.
  

    

Maybe if you gave grandpa the can of worms along with a fishing pole...
  

    
coming in late, but as an official Thrash, I gotta say that was just
fucking beautiful.
  

    
Yes, I'm slightly putoff to thrash myself. I may decide to come back
later to thrash on some other holiday.