Oh My (Fucking) God!
Just Me
Lord Valve
Just Me
And what do you suppose you were gacking at there? When Hunter S.
Thompson heard the Dead play that at Winterland he thought he'd died
and gone to heaven. It's really not too bad for a cover band. The
guy's got Garcia's part from the Live/Dead performance entirely
committed to memory.
--
JM
Lord Valve
> On Dec 20, 10:51 am, Lord Valve <detri...@ix.netcom.com> wrote:
> > Just Me wrote:
> > >http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixIhUMlfPoU&feature=related
> >
> > Gack.
> >
> > LV
>
> And what do you suppose you were gacking at there? When Hunter S.
> Thompson heard the Dead play that at Winterland he thought he'd died
> and gone to heaven.
Hunter S. Thompson was a piece of shit - blew his brains out with his
grandson in the next room. What a class act.
> It's really not too bad for a cover band. The
> guy's got Garcia's part from the Live/Dead performance entirely
> committed to memory.
How thrilling. <gack>
Lord Valve
Musician
Just Me
> Just Me wrote:
> > On Dec 20, 10:51 am, Lord Valve <detri...@ix.netcom.com> wrote:
> > > Just Me wrote:
> > > >http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixIhUMlfPoU&feature=related
>
> > > Gack.
>
> > > LV
>
> > And what do you suppose you were gacking at there? When Hunter S.
> > Thompson heard the Dead play that at Winterland he thought he'd died
> > and gone to heaven.
>
> Hunter S. Thompson was a piece of shit - blew his brains out with his
> grandson in the next room. What a class act.
Miserable as the man was at the end, so it was for anyone around him,
and it was undoubtedly a worse trauma to find him yet alive in that
room rather than dead. It was a kindness he had done for the boy and
everyone else concerned really. His suicide note . . .
"No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More
Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or
wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are
getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax — This won't hurt."
You can't postpone an impulse to kill yourself. It isn't like an
appointment with the dentist. You do it at the moment when suddenly
any alternative is intolerable. He was on the phone with his wife
when he did it. Must've been something she said, that sort of needed a
bullet in his own head for his last word to say to her. Without
question she was out looking for what he no longer had in operating
condition in his pants. She was down trotting her ass around at the
goddam "fitness center".
When they heard the explosion, they thought it was a book fallen from
a shelf. And they just went right on with what they were doing, only
later to discover Thompson crumpled over his typewriter. Sure gave
the kid something to talk about. Trauma? Says who? He's got to find
out about such things sooner or later one way or another.
It is no surprise to see how someone so judgmental as this asshole,
would have to be too square to dig the Dead. I'll bet you are a real
fan of the hippy hoppy "music". Right?
You like that hippety hop, draggy-ass, short-pants kiddie-bop?
Is that your schtick, Hot Shot?
--
JM
jimmy
wrote:
>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixIhUMlfPoU&feature=related
That's what I thought they did. Next!
Lord Valve
Yeah, that's my schtick. ROFLMBFAO!
Fuck the Dead, fuck Hunter Thompson, fuck rock and roll, and
fuck you too, holmes.
Lord Valve
Hippity-Hopper ;-)
Mark
> Just Me wrote:
>
>> On Dec 20, 10:51 am, Lord Valve <detri...@ix.netcom.com> wrote:
>>> Just Me wrote:
>>> >http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixIhUMlfPoU&feature=related
>>>
>>> Gack.
>>>
>>> LV
>>
>> And what do you suppose you were gacking at there? When Hunter S.
>> Thompson heard the Dead play that at Winterland he thought he'd died
>> and gone to heaven.
>
> Hunter S. Thompson was a piece of shit - blew his brains out with his
> grandson in the next room. What a class act.
My hero.
--
Mark Thompson
Mark
> It is no surprise to see how someone so judgmental as this asshole,
> would have to be too square to dig the Dead. I'll bet you are a real
> fan of the hippy hoppy "music". Right?
>
> You like that hippety hop, draggy-ass, short-pants kiddie-bop?
>
> Is that your schtick, Hot Shot?
Here's my stuff, Rag Doll.
I shoot from my dick
WonοΏ½t ya lick my stick
Or IοΏ½ll pop that drop
Right off o yo lip
You ainοΏ½t the one
Sayin this shit lame
You ainοΏ½t the bitch
ThatοΏ½s Flyin /my/plane
Jus keep on whinin
IοΏ½ll punch this stick
Into yo' ass
I shoot from my dick
I shoot from my dick
(kinda sings like "I'm gay and proud"
but fluffier)
mark 1
--
Mark Guitar
Wrong_Note_Rod
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixIhUMlfPoU&feature=related
how anybody could still be listening after the first 10 seconds, is beyond
me.
Dr. Zontar
I made it to 35 seconds, but then the uber-repetitive guitar lick
started to make my skin crawl.
- Rich
Dr. Zontar
> You can't postpone an impulse to kill yourself. It isn't like an
> appointment with the dentist. You do it at the moment when suddenly
> any alternative is intolerable.
Once again, you're full of shit. Why do you think there are suicide
hotlines, you fucking moron? Many people have successfully fought an
urge to kill themselves, and gone on to lead productive lives. It's
called "mental health". Try it some time.
BTW, I'm actually a fan of Hunter Thompson's WORK. But the man himself
is another story.
- Rich
Just Me
> On Dec 20, 8:44 pm, Just Me <jpd...@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> > You can't postpone an impulse to kill yourself. It isn't like an
> > appointment with the dentist. You do it at the moment when suddenly
> > any alternative is intolerable.
>
> Once again, you're full of shit. Why do you think there are suicide
> hotlines, you fucking moron?
Learn how to properly address a gentleman you smarmy chunk of snotty
punk spunk, then you'll get your answer. A suicide hotline. Hah!
--
JM http://whosenose.blogspot.com
http://bobbisoxsnatchers.blogspot.com
Holy Fucking Mary
The question remains:
Did God fuck Mary and just didn't get credit ?
Grand Mal
"Holy Fucking Mary" <ea...@com.com> wrote in message
news:4b2fc449$0$5316$bbae...@news.suddenlink.net...
>
>
> The question remains:
>
> Did God fuck Mary and just didn't get credit ?
Didn't you hear? God fucked everybody.
Mark
He doesn't fuck with Mark.
--
Mark inventor/artist/pilot/guitarist/scientist/philosopher/
scratch golfer/cat wrangler and observer of the mundane.
And much much more including wealthy beyond anything you can imagine.
Dr. Zontar
> Learn how to properly address a gentleman you smarmy chunk of snotty
> punk spunk, then you'll get your answer.
You've proven on countless ocassions to be unworthy of civility.
> A suicide hotline. Hah!
So, you know exactly what was going on in Thompson's head right before
he offed himself? You have some special insight that 100% proves that
a counselor couldn't have helped him? Nope. I thought not. Go back to
listening to those sad little Greatful Dead cover bands and stop
embarrasing yourself here.
- Rich
Just Me
> On Dec 21, 1:50 pm, Just Me <jpd...@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> > Learn how to properly address a gentleman you smarmy chunk of snotty
> > punk spunk, then you'll get your answer.
>
> You've proven on countless ocassions to be unworthy of civility.
I am not your suicide hotline, Booby, so go wail your sob story to
somebody else.
--
JM
Dr. Zontar
That's the best you can do? That doesn't even make sense. And you
fancy yourself a writer? Pathetic.
- Rich
Just Me
Excuse me? So it WAS the Suicide Hotline you were after? So sorry!
Good you should call back like this before it's too late.
What? No, no. I was on the other line which is always way HOT like
this one. Right. I was with another client cell-calling from the
Golden Gate bridge.
Yes, and so you see how I was receiving what they call "mixed
messages" trying to hotline two of you at the same time. But never
mind. We ARE the Hotline. How can we help?
Zontar? Very well. I won't ask "doctor" of what. No. This is all
perfectly confidential. We're here to help.
What was that? Oh, I see! Well, you could try any number of methods,
gunshot to the head, to the heart, up the asshole - - - oh, well
that's tough. Too messy you say? Um-hm. Well, have you considered the
Wal-Mart sack over the head?
Yes! Of course. We wouldn't be called "The Suicide Hot-Line" if we
weren't here to help.
You called us, we didn't call you.
Right. Okay. Just calm down, chill out as the very hip and with-it
these days say, and I'll give it to you step by step.
No, that's quite alright. No trouble a'tall. Take the Wal-Mart bag and
put it over your head.
Have you got it on, now? Good. Now take those two straps and wrap
tightly about the neck. Your neck. That's right.
Now, just as you've seen the clerk do a thousand times, take both
straps and tie them tightly together - - -
Got it? Good. Now get into your car and drive over to Wal-Mart - -
- just a minute . . .
Let me place you on hold for a moment. You don't mind being placed on
hold with a Wal-Mart bag over your head for a few minutes do you?
Fine. Be right back.
Still there, Zontar? Swell! Now we're cookin'. But dig it, we have
to make this fast, because I have a call coming in from a guy with his
head in a Wal-Mart sack who is just about to buy it. Yes! No, not YOU,
another guy.
Okay, once you've driven to over to Wal-Mart, go inside to the Service
Desk and tell them you are returning what you got in the bag for
defective merchandise. Yes, that's all you'll have to do, they'll
take the problem entirely out of your hands.
Only, don't forget to bring your receipt.
You got to have the receipt.
You bet, Baby. Like I say, we are always here to help.