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#1 wronwright
Oh dear - what a crawler! But where’s the poetry bit?
Roses are red etc
Keep going there! Poetry needed!
Posted by aussiemagpie on 2006 11 18 at 11:21 AM • permalinkPhew, ok I logged back in. As I was saying… As an informed left-winger, I have to say that this is exactly the kind of treatment I would expect from you. You and your whole conservative agenda promoting oligarchocrats should be ashamed, especially since you are the PM for all of Great Britain! It’s disgusting.
-a liberal who knows politics.
Aussiemagpie, if by “crawler” you mean to accuse me of sucking up to Andrea, I admit it. But then as a guy, I’m quite used to sucking up to women who could easily make my life miserable. By the way, that’s a very lovely hairstyle you’re wearing today.
On a most important note, everybody needs to put everything aside around 3:30 pm US Eastern Standard Time for the BIG GAME. This is bigger than the Super Bowl, than the NCAA basketball tournament, even bigger than the
AssesAshes.Now please sing with me:
Buckeye Battle Cry
In old Ohio there’s a team
That’s known thru-out the land;
Eleven warriors, brave and bold,
Whose fame will ever stand.
And when the ball goes over,
Our cheers will reach the sky,
Ohio field will hear again
The Buckeye Battle Cry –Drive! Drive on down the field,
Men of the scarlet and gray;
Don’t let them thru that line,
We have to win this game today,
Come on, Ohio!
Smash through to victory.
We cheer you as you go:
Our honor defend
We will fight to the end for O-hi-o.Posted by wronwright on 2006 11 18 at 11:33 AM • permalinkTim, we know that this involves wronwright. Don’t cover up for him. Everyone knows that he is only human. Lord Karl will take care of him.
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 11 18 at 11:52 AM • permalink#5 wronwright
It’s almost 3am here - my hair? Not a good look but top marks for being so sweet - yeah I fell for it
even bigger than the
AssesAshesNothing I repeat NOTHING is bigger than the Ashes
Not even that US game where the men insist on wearing motorbike helmets - sissies the lot of them I reckon
Goodness I’ll be marked now as a troll!
Posted by aussiemagpie on 2006 11 18 at 11:52 AM • permalinkWhat better way to test comment capacity than with a two-part Detective Paco story?
Detective Paco and Sheila in, “The Gun That Didn’t Bark"
It was the end of a long week for Sheila and me, and, as the Romans might have said, all roads lead to Machado’s.
The massive oak door was opened smartly by a retired boxer – Hamfist Harry – who was dressed in what appeared to be the uniform of a Honduran field marshal. We went up to the maitre’d’s station and were greeted by Joe “Kneecap” Weiss. Joe’s previous occupation - I’ll call it bad debts negotiator - while perfectly suited to his muscle-bound frame and deceptively ferocious appearance, was abhorrent to his basically kind and indolent nature. Tony Machado had given him a job as a table scout and Joe was taking it seriously. Too seriously. Apparently he was under the impression that maitre’d’s were all French, and so he had tried hard to acquire a patina of “class”.
“Bone swah, messue et madamoyzell” (He was inordinately proud that he knew the difference between “madamoyzell” and “muhdamn”). “And where would yez like to park yezselfs tonight?” Joe gave me a quick smile, before dismissing me entirely for the purpose of staring worshipfully at Sheila. Whenever he saw her, he was like an ox contemplating a golden angel who had appeared out of nowhere, miraculously, to pull the plug on the butcher’s electric hammer.
She gave him the smile that tied a thousand tongues, and patted him lightly on the arm. She had always had a way with animals.
“No table tonight, Joe. We’re just going in to the bar for a couple of drinks.”
“Ok, Miss Sheila.” And he bowed her out of his domain, like Essex handing Elizabeth into the royal coach. Actually, more like a gorilla who suddenly bends over to inspect a banana he’s just spotted on the ground. But you get the idea.
We climbed aboard the leather-upholstered bar stools and ordered our drinks (Sheila had a glass of Drambuie. I ordered a scotch and soda on the rocks, but told the barkeep to hold the soda. And the rocks, too, while he was at it).
Just as we were getting on the outside of our drinks, a fellow of what’s known as “Middle Eastern” appearance took a seat on the other side of Sheila. Sheila suddenly sat bolt upright and gasped. The newcomer looked at me from behind Sheila and smiled.
Farouk!.
. . . To be continued
Sorry, the bees may have gotten loose in the internet tubes. What can I say, they sure did develop a taste for wronwright’s flesh, and it seems some of them decided to make a little excursion of their own.
Seriously, I’m not sure why people are having problems logging in, but I do know that Expression Engine has recurring problems with browser caching. Try clearing your browser cache and closing the browser repeatedly and then re-opening it for a new page, then try to log in. Email me at if you have any problems commenting.
One more admin note: I have a couple of upgrades to the software that I am going to try to install some time this weekend, so you may find the site acting odd or down for little while. I’ll try to do this at non-peak hours, but since you all are all over the globe some of you will be affected no matter what time I do this. Fair warning!
Posted by Andrea Harris, Administrator on 2006 11 18 at 12:19 PM • permalinkDetective Paco and Sheila in, “The Gun That Didn’t Bark” - Part II
“Ha! Detective Paco, nazrani pig! Now I have you and your dhimmi whore both! I am holding a knife at her back, Paco – the sword, or in this case, the pocket knife of justice - and you are going to watch her die, and then you are going to die!”
I looked directly into Sheila’s eyes. “You ok, baby?”
She was scared, but she was game. “I’ve suddenly developed a sharp pain in my lower back, but yeah, other than that, I’m just dandy.”
I looked back at Farouk. He had obviously tried to “blend in” with what he took to be the nightclub scene, but must have gotten his notions of fancy dress from somebody’s 30-year old home movies of the senior prom. He was wearing a blue velour tuxedo with a clip-on red tie, and black patent-leather shoes. He looked like a melodramatic guy who would want to draw things out. I decided to play for time. I took a cigarette out of the pack on the bar and perched it on my lower lip.
“Well, Farouk, long time no see. So you didn’t like the tropics, eh? How did you get away this time?” I pretended to pat myself down for matches.
“It was simple to get away, dog of an unbeliever. In the morning, when we were out picking chickpeas for the daily ration of hummus, I slipped through a hole in the fence, stole a 1954 Hudson, and paddled to Key West. There, my brothers concealed me. And now I have made my way here. Just to see you.”
I gave him a resigned smile. “Well, now, looks like you’ve got us dead to rights. But your Allah is a compassionate god, right? He wouldn’t begrudge me a last smoke, would he?”
He grinned malevolently. “A last smoke? Sure, Paco. Maybe a blindfold, too, huh?”
“No, just the smoke will do.” I began to reach toward my inside coat pocket, when Sheila gave a little jump.
“No tricks!” he snarled.
“Relax, Farouk. I can’t find any matches and I just remembered that I’ve got a lighter in my pocket. Don’t worry. I know when I’m beat.”
He eased back on the knife, as Sheila exhaled with momentary relief. And then she gasped again as I filled my hand with a .45 cal. Pistol, which I pointed directly at Farouk’s head.
“I’m not likely to miss at this range, Farouk, so unless you want a flat-top down to about nose-level, drop the knife.”
Farouk’s face twisted in indecisive rage, but I had him figured right. He could kill Sheila, but he’d never get me, and that wouldn’t do at all. He’d try his chances another day. He dropped the knife.
Just like in the movies, the cavalry got there after it was all over. Joe came lumbering up.
“What’s goin’ on here, Mr. Paco? Is this punk givin’ yez trouble?”
“Just a little, Joe. Do me a favor. I’m going to call the FBI. Now, I know you’re out of the business, but, for old times’ sake, how’d you like to take this guy out back and give him a little workout while we wait for the Feds? He threatened Sheila’s life, incidentally.”
The faithful old dog’s eyes flared, and his lips curled, and I’d almost swear that he growled.
“Wit’ pleasure, Mr. Paco!”
Ten minutes later, Smedley from the FBI and two of his boys were bundling up a strangely chastened and very much bruised Farouk, and hustling him out of the bar. Sheila and I were left alone.
“Well, Paco, that was a close one. I’m glad you didn’t have to try and shoot him. You might have missed and hit my drink.”
“Wouldn’t have done much damage if I had”. I turned my wrist and pointed the barrel of the .45 at the end of my cigarette, pulled the trigger – and drew deeply as a little flame popped out of the top of the barrel’s “front sight”. Sheila’s baby-blues rounded in shock. “Eddie! Bring me another Drambuie! And leave the bottle!”
#11 paco
Brilliant prose - and a great touch there bringing in Farouk!
Looking forward to the book coming out soon
Posted by aussiemagpie on 2006 11 18 at 12:33 PM • permalink#3 blogagog
We shall destr.. ~NO CARRIER
NO CARRIER? Wow, takes me back a decade!
Posted by flying pigs over mecca on 2006 11 18 at 12:34 PM • permalink3:30, perfect time to go shopping. No traffic.
I have erected a GO DUCKS! lawn sign in a football neighborhood to show support.
This morning there was a grey helium balloon on my lawn, apparently having succumbed to dew over the night. I’m miles and miles from any source of grey balloons.
I dusted off the dew and sent it onwards, and it headed towards Toledo.
Maybe it will mean something to them.
Dave S.,
I’ll fix it, just go get me a box stretcher, some relative bearing grease, and a left-handed crescent wrench.
Posted by David Crawford on 2006 11 18 at 02:04 PM • permalink"As an informed left-winger...”
Hey, I’ve always wanted to meet one of those.
Posted by Dave Surls on 2006 11 18 at 03:00 PM • permalinkCopy and save first! I always forget, and end up cursing.
Posted by Andrea Harris, Administrator on 2006 11 18 at 06:22 PM • permalinkIn all honesty, this wasn’t entirely wronwright’s fault.
I knew I shouldn’t have given him the torrent URL’s to ALL the La Blue Girl episodes at once…
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2006 11 18 at 07:25 PM • permalinkSeveral readers are experiencing comment-related difficulties.
Tim, I’m finding that comments that I have typed into the comment box which appear to be incredibly hilarious are being replaced with ones that are more mundane once the ‘submit’ button is clicked.
When readers see my name, could they please assume that my original comments were funnier by several orders of magnitude and laugh accordingly? Thanking you all in advance.
Posted by Art Vandelay on 2006 11 19 at 07:02 AM • permalink
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Well, did they forget to say something nice to Andrea? They have to say something very friendly or complimentary every few days or she pulls the plug for that particular commenter.
Oh, speaking of which. Andrea, you look very lovely today. Your eyes sparkle with the love of life. I hope this week is an especially nice one for you in Florida.
(that should give me a couple weeks of connection time)