- Ralphie, on THE SIMPSONS

quote:

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Originally posted by PeterK:
Insult to injury? Come on, John, this thread is already the longest thread there is. What are you thinking?
PeterK

---

Well, I suppose it's okay in THIS thread, but it would make very annoying flame material.
Although, perhaps we could get the Longest Post of All Time, too...














































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Well, that was awfully pointless.

This is very distracting.

NP: Donnie Brasco, Doyle

DANIEL2 CAME BACK
(Sung to the tune of "The Cat Came Back")

Daniel2, he had a thought
That he couldn't bear to keep
So he put it up for viewing
At a length he thought was cheap

It went for tens of pages
It wandered 'round and 'round
The members made an awful noise
'Til it was taken down

Buuuut ...

The post came back!
It wouldn't stay away
It was up there on the website
The very next day!

The post came back!
He didn't get the message
And one day later
It was just as unimpressive!

SECOND VERSE

Now the target of this posting
Was a man he'd often curse:
"Greatest hack that ever lived!
(And by the way, he's getting worse!)"

His arguments were many
His posting space was tall
And yet each one was answered,
So you'd think that would be all.

Buuuuut ...

The post came back!
It wouldn't stay away
It was up there on the website
The very next day!

The post came back!
He didn't get the clue
And one month later
No one knew quite what to do!

THIRD VERSE

Now the posts increased in number
But the words were all the same
And the conversation strayed to
Unrelated facts and names

When people stopped responding
They hoped he'd go away
And then one day he did
Amidst a chorus of "Hooray!"

Buuuuuuut ...

The post came back!
It wouldn't stay away
It was up there on the website
The very next day!

To start off:

After a terrifying spate of WASTED SPACE posts, you have brought us back to...to...

...I don't know.

A man in Spain rolls mainly along the plains, while his internet corporation sells his seashells along the seashore...

NP. Williams on Williams(Boston Pops)

Put another way: is this message board a place where we can communicate ideas, barring obscenities, without fear of censorship? I don't need or want to talk dirty, but when G-rated ideas are discussed cleanly, should he be quite so proactive in the field of idea management?

It seems as though PeterK locks up, moves, or outright deletes whatever he doesn't like. The last straw for me was when he actually edited a whole thread -- re-writing people!!! (That thread pertained to a WW II movie with Japanese planes in it).

Thanks for the comments.

Like John said, the "racist" remark in the Pearl Harbor thread was unanimously voted as "racist" by everyone who mentioned it, so I edited the post and removed all the complaints about the post being racist. The result? The discussion got back on topic. Basically, everyone who complained about the offensive statement caused me to remove/edit/whatever - I didn't delete stuff left and right for no reason.

In this most recent post about The Grinch, the involved parties deleted their own posts, leaving the thread a total wasteland. I removed the wasteland and look, the thread is back on topic.

Mr. Zap, just put yourself in my shoes for a second, and you might understand the importance of a "moderator" a little bit more, especially one like myself who wants nothing more than debates to be healthy and without all the spite that plagues other places.

If you think I am a tyrant, don't be surprised how bad things will get when a real tyrant comes your way.

That's all I have to say about that.

I will contribute to the sentence as soon as I think of something good...

A MOLE OF DISTINCTION

Deep in a forest called Rosemary Wood
There's a hole in the ground by a tree;
It seems like a hole that is normal and good,
The kind that you usually see.

But it happens, by chance, that this certain hole
(That's dug in the ground by the tree)
Is the home of a rather extraordin'ry mole
Who'd amaze you, were you to know he.

He comes from a land due east of Earth's center
(For he wasn't quite born in Rosemary Wood)
In a nation called Moleday, where he and a mentor
Were studying magick and charms (for use good).

One day, the mentor, whose name is Forgotten,
Was telling our hero, whose name is Unknown,
"You know, Unknown, that my sister is rotten,
A horrible lass, always talking the phone--"

When sudd'nly a monster, whose name was Unlisted,
Came burbling behind them. With very brute force
He took a clean swipe at Forgotten and misseded,
Just barely, but came back again to its course.

And this time he struck; with the mentor's bad luck
His head was quite loosed from his neck.
Its mission accomplished, the monster did duck
And returned to its high-rising deck.

And as for Unknown, he had the great mess
To clean up the head of Forgotten
Unlisted had severed away from its dress;
But the mole had some magickal knowledge he'd gotten.

With a whip of his hand and a smidgen of sand
He souped up an adhesive potion;
He re'ttached the head of Forgotten, quite grand,
With the mentor quite pleased at the notion.

But, Alas! he'd need rest (he was still so distressed)
So Unknown remarked soon to his teacher,
"I will fly to its hideout on Unlisted's Crest
And remember, Forgotten, to sever his speecher!"

"He might know how to connect it himself,"
Said Forgotten to Unkown, his pupil,
"So be sure to collect ev'ry herb from his shelf,
Ev'ry plant, ev'ry book from his stoople."

"Aye," said the student, "But how'd he perform it
If he were dead, without life, without face?"
"You make a good point," said the teach, "But conform it,
And take ev'ry plant, ev'ry tome, just in case."

With a courteous bow of his furious brow,
Unknown leapt away from the lab
And, not quite knowing how, soared up like a plow,
Up to Unlisted's home in the slab.

When he got there at night he had fright and delight
For at last, with aghast, he had seen
The monster's great chamber, horrible sight,
With the bones of twelve men, all ate clean.

The dragon, asleep, couldn't see the mole creep,
So Unknown sneaked up closely and still,
When all of a sudden, bellowing deep,
Unlisted awakened to kill!

With fury and fire its jaws opened wide
And sped shut with a frumious snap.
But luck'ly Unknown, using charm and a chide,
Dodged out of the way with a clap.

This turn it was time for the mole to attack
And he decided a sneeze would suit well,
So he pulled out a rose with his nose and yelled "Klack!"
And the dragon sneezed loudly and fell!

Wasting no time Unknown pulled out chives
And with magick he summoned a sword
That had been passed down through his relative's lives
Begun by a fabulous lord.

With dagger in paw, o'ertaken by awe,
The mole quickly sliced the beast's throat.
Its neck split in two, its powerful jaw
Let out no more gaspings or gloat.

To take the head back the mole turned aloft
But the sight made his heartbeats displace:
Instead of a gap where the head was cut off-ed,
Another head grew in its place!

Deciding, quite rightly, the task was too much,
The mole scampered back to his nation;
And the monster then gave its new head a touch
And hummed in great self-admiration.

Back down in Moleday, Unknown and his mentor
Sought advice from their gracious old king
(Though he was known to be somewhat off-center),
Asking him "What should we do 'bout this thing?"

"Some time ago," remarked the good ruler,
"My grandfather's sister's small niece,
So smart that no monster around her could fool 'er,
Possessed a great golden-sewn fleece..."

"No, that was Jason," the mole said, "try again--"
"Oh yes," said the king, "Well now I remember
That it was a Magickal Marmalade Wren
Who saved us that frightful September!"

This was good news! The king said, "You shall find her
In the backyard of your place, Forgotten!
Just be very sure not to sneak up behind her,
She really will think that is rotten."

The mole and the mentor, their faith reassured,
Went off to search Forgotten's grounds,
Hoping to find the good wren and be cured
From the monster and his savage rounds.

In seconds three they found the tree
And in seconds ten found the wren.
Quite caref'lly they went round to the front of she,
Rememb'ring the old king's advice from back then.

Quite soon the wren (whose name's Unrevealed)
Was telling her tale to the two,
The tale of her wonderful Butter-Spoon shield,
The moles list'ning still as a statue.

"'T's been queet a lone time," Unrevealéd began,
"Sence I last spake a ward 'boot moi shield,
But remaymbr it shoorely oi'm shoore that I can...
So aun with the tale!" thus spake Unrevealed.

"Seems me it happed, o, lone eight year agoo
Whayn I toke that Butter-Spone shield fur moi own;
You'll foind it in Church, its stuck aun with glue
Aun side the greet bell that reens 'Doan!'"

So off to the chapel the two moles leapt,
Waving thanks and good-byes to the wren,
And went to the room where the bell was kept.
The Butter-Spoon shield would triumph again!

Inside the church they discovered the shield
Bell-glued, just as they were told.
In rapture they squealed as over they keeled;
Now they'd slay that vile monster of old!

To his cliffside they spanned with shield in hand,
To his lair they soared up and again--
His death they'd demand in a fight they'd command--
The scourge of every Moledayan.

They went there in anger, enraged they arrived,
Preparéd to slay the foul foe!
Their weapon was set, their game plan contrived
As the mentor called, "Ready, set, go!"

With the force of one thousand and three hundred moles,
With a skill that was ages past his,
Unknown charged Unlisted with umpteen lost souls--
But the beast said, "D'you note what the time is?"

Sudd'nly Unknown glanced down at his watch
(And I can't e'en describe you his shock).
In the midst of the battle and all that hotchpotch,
Precisely it was four o'clock!

"Tea time!" the monster and moles chimed together.
They sat down at the table and fed,
And the Butter-Spoon shield (turned out to be leather)
Spread butter quite nicely on bread.

With that, the first tea time between the two foes,
The moles became friends of Unlisted,
And decades of anguish asnd worry and woes
Were over and done and dismisseded!

These days the dragon, who once terrorized,
Has become Moleday's best Social Worker;
A citizen worthy, no longer despised,
No more a monster, no more a lurker.

The mentor is now a professor at Yale,
Though his name is always forgotten,
And spends his time teaching 'bout digging and kale
When he's not at his home down in Groton.

And today our great hero lives home with his wife,
And her name's Not Published, you know.
But he still tells great tales of his fantastic life,
Of his battle days long, long ago.

Dog by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Maybe I can find another extremely long piece for another time

Is it just me, or do you guys have WAY TOO much time on your hands

But It's all in good fun and I can't stop laughing

NP: Masada Complete, Goldsmith/Stevens

It's true!

NP -- Litany, Arvo Pärt

I'm not even playing that CD anymore...

I RETURN!!! HAHAHA!!

Sorry, had to be done due to the comments on my supposedly racist thread even though it was not in the slightest. Lol, that was good stuff yonder, anyhoo, PETER K!!!!! I HAVE A ? FOR YA!!!! (see below)

Bwwwaahahahahaaaaaaa

NP: Virus, McNeely

you




find




yourself




on the




side of




the majority,




it is time

I
We are the hollow men

we are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpiece filled with straw.Alas!

Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in dry grass

Or rat's feet on broken glass

In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without color,

Paralyzed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed

With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom

Remember us - if at all - not as lost

Violent souls, but only

As the hollow men

The stuffed men.

II
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams

In death's dream Kingdom

These do not appear

There, the eyes are

Sunlight on a broken column

There, is a tree swinging

And voices are

In the wind's singing

More distant and more solemn

Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer

In death's dream Kingdom

Let me also wear

Such deliberate disguises

Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves

In a field

Behaving as the wind behaves

No nearer -

Not that final meeting

In the twilight Kingdom

III
This is the dead land

This is cactus land

Here the stone images

Are raised, here they receive

The supplication of a dead man's hand

Under the twinkle of a fading star

Is it like this

In death's other Kingdom

Waking alone

At the hour when we are

Trembling with tenderness

Lips that would kiss

Form prayers to broken stone.

IV
The eyes are not here

There are no eyes here

In the valley of dying stars

In this hollow valley

This broken jaw of our lost Kingdoms

In this last of meeting places

We grope together

and avoid speech

Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless

The eyes reappear

As the perpetual star

Multifoliate rose

Of death's twilight Kingdom

The hope only

Of empty men

V
Here we go round the prickly pear

Prickly pear prickly pear

Here we go round the prickly pear

At five o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea

And the reality

Between the motion

And the act

Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception

And the creation

Between the emotion

And the response

Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

Between the desire

And the spasm

Between the potency

And the existence

Between the essence

And the descent

Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

For thine is

Life is

For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

_____

{NP: Not soundtrack related, but still very good: The Dropper - Medeski Martin and Wood}

JJ,
You know better than that! The Stawberry pop-tarts are FAR superior to the cherry!

Okay, starting from my above post, and JJ's before that, here's another question you all should answer:

What is the best Pop-tart flavor? Should Pop-tarts be adhered to strictly, or are other brands equally good if they cost less? Come on people, let's here your opinions on this!