Ultimul avertisment / SERIOS No 462 !!! / Coq-a-l'ane !
VAL3FOUR
M'sieu Duval,
Ca burghezul lui Moliere ,dta faci proza si cand te barbieresti.
Mai tii minte "Avertismentele serioase" emise de China Rosie
c/a USA ? Ajunsesera,cred,pana pe la 462 cand,in sfarsit,cineva
la Beijing a realizat ca nu poti fe serios cu ...asa noian de avertis-
mente.Dta imi amintesti de anii aceia de glorie ! Internet si implicit
SCR sunt foruri publice, neguvernate de "comitete de strada" sau
de bloc.Ai plecat din Paradisul Rosu dar ai retinut mentalitatea de
colectiv ! De turma ."Massili" care trebuiestera controlate,n'est c'est
pas ?
Nenorocirea cu voi,constipatii intelectual,este ca nu stiti sa dati
replici:
voi recurgeti ori la insulte ori la amenintari.Va recomand ulei de ricina
pentru lubrificarea creierelor Dvs. gripate !
Daca tot nu merge.schimbati creierele !
Un bon ami
Ines Weber
EugenDuval wrote:
>
> Cred ca intreci limita insultelor. Or problema pe care am ridicat-o a fost
> tocmai aceea "de a se pastra o tinuta decenta a discutiilor pe internet".
Si cine va defini "decenta"? Matale, daca da ce calificare ai pentru a
ne invata pe noi ce este sau nu decent? Nu stiu cit ai luptat matale
impotriva comunismului (deh, dupa razboi multi eroi se-arata), dar stiu
ca atitudinea matale dovedeste ca nu esti foarte familiar cu notiunile
de Libertate de cuvint, probabil ca ai uitat definitia in "lupta", ca
tonul pare foarte a la "epoca de aur".
> Daca inca n-ai sesizat-o ti-o repet. Daca nu poti sau nu-ti place, te rog
> sa te abtii, ca sa nu te expui la consecinte.
Opa, opa, nu-i asa ca am inceput sa tremuram de frica. Ce poti face
domnule, sa ne trimiti baietii in haine de piele? De ce boala suferi ca
poti delira in modul acesta? Daca te afli intr-o tara cit de cit libera
unde nu trebuie sa te sacrifici din nou si sa lupti impotriva
comunismului sigur vei gasi un tratament.
Cand luptam impotriva
> comunismului probabil nici nu existai.
De unde stii matale asta? Ai cumva acces la dosar?
P.S. Te rog invata mai bine franceza. Nu stii sa scrii cum trebue.
> Probabil ai lipsit dela orele de franceza in liceu.
Cum ai avut timp matale sa inveti si Franceza si sa te si lupti cu
comunistii? Ce efort herculian, domnule, de necrezut...
Ines
EugenDuval
Cred ca intreci limita insultelor. Or problema pe care am ridicat-o a fost
tocmai aceea "de a se pastra o tinuta decenta a discutiilor pe internet".
comunismului probabil nici nu existai.
Cristian HERLING
In article <334FF1...@hotmail.com>, <pl_...@hotmail.com> wrote:
>Lasa poantele. Aici este vorba de despitarea unui derbedeu, care va
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Wow, ce-i asta coane mare?
>cunoaste in curind litera legii.
>
>Toate au o limita in viata. Si daca acest individ va fi despitat, dat in
^^^^^^^^^
opa, inca o data. Hmm, poate intr-adevar am inceput sa uit limba romana.
--
|so that's the news...so whatever|
|.....X-News Update on MADtv.....|
Cristian HERLING
Hey Duval, nume de scriitor decedat, ce le tragi atit din clantza pe
seama lui unul care apare pe scr din an in paste, trage doua focuri si
dupa aia se da la fund. Nou pe aici omule? Evident daca-ti sar papucii
din picioare din cauza testicului scr-ului. Sa-l vezi pe luceafar sau pe
rt56 (sau ceva in genul asta), astia stiu sa dea cu cacat pe cirpa de
sters vasele.
In article <19970413004...@ladder01.news.aol.com>,
EugenDuval <eugen...@aol.com> wrote:
>Cred ca intreci limita insultelor.
Imposibil.
>tocmai aceea "de a se pastra o tinuta decenta a discutiilor pe internet".
>Daca inca n-ai sesizat-o ti-o repet. Daca nu poti sau nu-ti place, te rog
>sa te abtii, ca sa nu te expui la consecinte.
Ce ar fi sa te abtii matale intii?
Stephen Dancs
Cristian HERLING (cris...@cs.mcgill.ca) writes:
> Hey Duval, nume de scriitor decedat, ce le tragi atit din clantza pe
Ei Cristiane, de papa Doc te iei tu? O fi el exilat in Franta, insa mina
dic(k)tatorilor e lunga...
>>Cred ca intreci limita insultelor.
>
> Imposibil.
Altu' care nu stie ca imposibilu' nu exista. (Anything is possible... for
a price. If not the likes of papa Doc to know that, then who?)
>>tocmai aceea "de a se pastra o tinuta decenta a discutiilor pe internet".
>>Daca inca n-ai sesizat-o ti-o repet. Daca nu poti sau nu-ti place, te rog
>>sa te abtii, ca sa nu te expui la consecinte.
>
> Ce ar fi sa te abtii matale intii?
Pai vrei sa fie omul constipat? Iti dai tu seama ce de ingrasaminte
chimice 'naturale' ar pierde francezii if he were to satisfy your wish?
(2 + 2 = ...5 after you pay me $1984)
--*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Stephen Dancs Tel./Fax: +1 (416) 963-9624
bv...@freenet.carleton.ca http://www.ncf.carleton.ca/~bv561/
Stephen Dancs
Cristian HERLING (cris...@cs.mcgill.ca) writes:
> Conas,u' <pl_...@hotmail.com> wrote:
>>Lasa poantele. Aici este vorba de despitarea unui derbedeu, care va
>> ^^^^^^^^^^
>>Toate au o limita in viata. Si daca acest individ va fi despitat, dat in
> ^^^^^^^^
> opa, inca o data. Hmm, poate intr-adevar am inceput sa uit limba romana.
Pai se poate conas,ule sa confunzi tu 'depizdare'? :))
(Prof. Baltazar.)
fredy
This was copied from http://www.infobahn.com/pages/pujol.html
fredy
One summer's day in the mid-1860's, a young French boy named Joseph
Pujol had a frightening experience at the seashore. Swimming out alone,
he held his breath and dove underwater. Suddenly an icy cold feeling
penetrated his gut. Frightened, he ran ashore, but then received a
second shock when he noticed seawater streaming from his anus. The
experience so disturbed the lad that his mother took him to a doctor
to allay his fears. The doctor complied.
The boy didn't know it at the time, but this unsettling rectal
experience at the beach not only indicated no illness, but it also
foretold of a gift that would later make him the toast of Paris and
one of the most popular and successful performers of his generation.
Joseph Pujol was born in Marseilles on June 1, 1857 to Francois Pujol
and Rose Demaury, a respected stonemason/sculptor and his wife, both
of whom had emigrated from Catalonia. Young Joseph went to school until
the age of 13, whereupon he apprenticed himself to a baker. Several
years later, he served in the French army.
While in the army, he mentioned his childhood sea-bathing experience to
his buddies. They immediately wanted to know if he could do it again,
so on a day's leave soon afterward he went out to the shore to swim and
experiment. He successfully reenacted the hydraulics of his childhood
experience there and even discovered that by contracting his abdomen
muscles, he could intentionally take up as much water as he liked and
eject it in a powerful stream.
Demonstrating this ability back at the barracks later provided the
soldiers with no end of amusement, and soon Pujol started to practice
with air instead of water, giving him the ability to produce a variety
of sounds. This new development provided even more enjoyment for his
buddies. It was then and there, in the army, that Pujol invented a
nickname for himself that would later become a stage name synonymous
throughout Europe with helpless, hysterical laughter: "Le Petomane"
(translation: "The Fartiste").
After his stint in the army, Pujol returned to Marseille and to a
bakeshop his father set him up in, on a street that, today, proudly
bears the name "rue Pujol." At the age of 26 he married Elizabeth
Henriette Oliver, the 20-year-old daughter of a local butcher.
Pujol enjoyed performing, so in the evenings he entertained at local
music halls by singing, doing comedy routines, and even playing his
trombone backstage between numbers. He continued amusing his friends
privately with his "other" wind instrument, but only at their
suggestion and urging did he decide to turn this parlor
trick into a full-fledged act for public audiences.
Pujol worked up a Le Petomane routine, and with some friends he rented
a space in Marseille to perform it in. They promoted the show heavily
themselves through posters and handouts, but word-of-mouth soon took
over and they packed the house every night. Fin de siecle European
audiences, deeply repressed but newly prosperous and trying to be
modern-- the same people Freud observed (Freud was one year older than
Pujol)-- must have found a man on stage building an entire act out of
mock farting and other forms of anal play considerably more shockingly
funny than we would today. Pujol's was a good act by any era's
standards, but back then his scatology hit a raw nerve, and hit it
hard, at an especially vulnerable time.
Like Alfred Jarry, whose epoch-making scatological Ubu Roi actually
post-dates Pujol's Paris debut by several years, Pujol was a
French Revolutionary of the modern theater. Jarry gets the credit today
because he was a "serious playwright" and not a lowbrow cabaret
performer, but Pujol clearly laid some of the groundwork.
Word-of-mouth spread reports of the quality and uniqueness of Pujol's
new show,and soon people from all over Marseille were coming to see it.
After the hometown success, Pujol's friends urged him to take the act
to Paris. Pujol hoped to, but cautiously decided to play several other
provincial cities first to refine the act and test the breadth of its
appeal before taking it to the capital. He performed in Toulon,
Bordeaux, and Clermont-Ferrand with great success, and in 1892 was
finally ready to try his act at Paris's Moulin Rouge. It was then that
Pujol reputedly uttered a line oft-repeated in cabaret lore; looking up
at the windmill sails of the landmark Moulin Rouge ("Red Mill")
building, he exclaimed, "The sails of the Moulin Rouge-- what a
marvelous fan for my act!"
In getting booked at the Moulin Rouge, Pujol wasted no time. He walked
in and demanded to see the director with such confidence that the
secretary showed him in immediately. He then told the director, a man
named either Zidler or Oller depending on whose account you follow
(I'll use "Oller"), "I am Le Petomane, and I want an engagement in
your establishment." He said that he was a phenomenon and that his
gift would be the talk of Paris. When Oller asked for an explanation,
he calmly replied, "You see, sir, my anus is of such elasticity that I
can open and shut it at will... I can absorb any quantity of liquid I
may be given [and] I can expel an almost infinite quantity of odorless
gas." After this, he gave Oller a quick demonstration.
Oller put Pujol on stage that very night.
Pujol dressed formally for his act, wearing a coat, red breeches, white
stockings, gloves, and patent leather shoes-- a stuffy, old-fashioned
outfit that, coupled with his unrelentingly deadpan delivery, must have
set up an abrasive comedic dissonance against the actual content of his
performance. To begin his act he introduced himself and explained that
he was about to demonstrate the art of "petomanie." He further explained
that he could break wind at will, but assured his audience not to worry
because his parents had "ruined themselves" in scenting his rectum.
Then Le Petomane performed some imitations, using the simple, honest
format of announcing and then demonstrating. He displayed his wide sonic
range with tenor, baritone, and bass fart sounds. He imitated the farts
of a little girl, a mother-in-law, a bride on her wedding night (tiny),
the same bride the day after (loud), and a mason (dry-- "no cement"). He
imitated thunder, cannons ("Gunners stand by your guns! Ready-- fire!!")
and even the sound of a dressmaker tearing two yards of calico (a full
10-second rip). After the imitations, Le Petomane popped backstage to
put one end of a yard-long rubber tube into his anus. He returned and
smoked a cigarette from this tube, after which he used it to play a
couple of tunes on a song flute. For his finale he removed the rubber
tube, blew out some of the gas-jet footlights from a safe distance away,
and then led the audience in a rousing sing- along.
This first night, a few tightly-corseted women in the audience literally
fainted from laughing so hard. Oller immediately gave Pujol a contract
to perform at the Moulin Rouge, elsewhere in France, and abroad. Turning
audience-fainting into a great gimmick, Oller later conspicuously
stationed white-uniformed nurses in the hall at each Le Petomane show
and instructed them to carry out any audience members rendered
particularly helpless by the hilarity. Meanwhile, to quash any rumors
that his performance was faked, Pujol occasionally gave private men-only
performances clad in a bathing suit with a large hole in the seat rather
than his concealing regular costume.
It was after one of these private performances that a distinguished-
looking man put a 20 franc gold coin in the collection plate. When Pujol
questioned him, he turned out to be the King of Belgium, who had come
incognito just to see his act.
After signing up with the Moulin Rouge in 1892, Pujol moved his growing
family (startingin 1885, Pujol and his wife had a child every two years
for eighteen years) into a chalet staffed by servants who soon became
family friends. As he predicted, he became the talk of Paris, and
admirers saluted him affectionately as he rode by in his carriage.
Paris doctors examined him and published an article in La Semaine
Medicale that described his health but offered no new explanation for
his ability. It did however record that he could rectally project a jet
of water 4 to 5 yards. Box office receipts alone attest to Le Petomane's
popularity. One Sunday the Moulin Rouge took in 20,000 francs for a Le
Petomane performance, an amount which dwarfs the 8000 francs typically
grossed by Sarah Bernhardt at the peak of her career there.
But another thing happened in 1892 that provoked a series of battles
between Pujol and Moulin Rouge management, the litigious nature of which
makes it sound more like 1992. Pujol visited a friend of his who sold
gingerbread, and to attract customers to his friend's stall, he did some
Petomane tricks right there in the marketplace. Word of this
"unauthorized performance" got back to Oller, who took it up with Pujol
and threatened to sue. Over the next couple of years, Pujol, who
dreamed of opening up his own travelling theater, had more rows with
Oller. In 1894, Oller brought suit against Pujol over the gingerbread
stall incident and won.
Pujol was fined 3000 Francs. The next year, Pujol left the Moulin Rouge
to start his own venture, the Theatre Pompadour. Soon after Pujol left,
the Moulin Rouge put up a new act, billed as a "Woman Petomane" (they
concealed a bellows under her skirt). Pujol then brought a lawsuit
against the Moulin Rouge for plagiarizing his idea. At about the same
time, however, a newspaper panned the "Woman Petomane" act, and the
actress, Angele Thiebeau, sued the paper for libel. The judgement
against Thiebeau was so harshly worded and humilating that Pujol,
satisfied at the harm done to the Moulin Rouge's reputation,
withdrew his own lawsuit against them.
Pujol's new Theatre Pompadour included mime and magic and other acts
performed by Pujol's family and performer friends. He changed his own
act into a woodland tale told in doggerel punctuated at the end of
each couplet by Le Petomane sound effects and imitations of the animal
and bird characters in the story. Paris audiences liked the winning
charm of this home-grown variety show and still yucked it up at
Pujol's fart noises, so the Theater Pompadour prospered for many years.
Le Petomane continued to be an enormous draw in his new venue until
around 1900, when the interest of the show-going public began to wane.
The Pompadour continued to do pretty well, however, until World War I,
when four of Pujol's sons went off to fight and the theater had to close
down. One son was taken prisoner and two of the others became invalids,
and Pujol was so shattered that after the war he had no interest in
returning to his performing career. The family moved back to Marseille
and Pujol ran bakeries with his sons and unmarried daughters. In 1922,
he and his family moved to Toulon and he set up a biscuit factory
which he gave to his children to manage. He lived the rest of his life
there, surrounded by his many dearly loved children and grandchildren.
His wife died in 1930 and he died in 1945. One medical school offered
the family 25,000 francs to be allowed to examine his body, but out of
respect, reverence and love for this warm, funny, and caring man, not
one of his children agreed to let them.
fredy
Ten Things That Would Be Different If Microsoft Built Cars:
1. A particular model year of car wouldn't be available until after that
year instead of before it.
2. Every time the repainted the lines on the road, you'd have to buy a
new car.
3. Occasionally your car would just die for no reason, and you'd have to
restart it. For some strange reason, you'd just accept this.
4. You could only have one person in the car at a time, unless you
bought a Car 95 or a Car NT. But then you'd have to buy more seats.
5. Sun Motorsystems would make a car that was powered by the sun, twice
as reliable, and five times as fast - but it would only run on five
percent of the roads.
6. The oil, engine, gas, and alternator warning lights would be replaced
with a single "General Car Fault" warning light.
7. People would get excited about the "new" features in Microsoft cars,
forgetting completely that they had been available in other cars for
years.
8. We'd all have to switch to Microsoft gas.
9. The U.S. Government would be getting subsidies from an automaker,
instead of giving them.
10.New seats would force everyone to have the same-size butt.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Blonde Medical Terminology
Anally -- occurring yearly
Artery -- study of paintings
Bacteria -- back door of cafeteria
Barium -- what doctors do when treatment fails
Benign -- what you be after you be eight
Bowel -- letter like A.E.I.O.U
Caesarian section -- district in Rome
Cat scan -- searching for kitty
Cauterize -- Made eye contact with her
Colic -- sheep dog
Coma -- a punctuation mark
Congenital -- friendly
D&C -- where Washington is
Diarrhea -- journal of daily events
Dilate -- to live long
Enema -- not a friend
Fester -- quicker
Fibula -- a small lie
Genital -- non-Jewish
G.I. Series -- soldiers' ball game
Grippe -- suitcase
Hangnail -- coathook
Impotent -- distinguished, well known
Intense pain -- torture in a teepee
Labour pain -- got hurt at work
Medical staff -- doctor's cane
Morbid -- higher offer
Nitrate -- cheaper than day rate
Node -- was aware of
Outpatient -- person who had fainted
Pap smear -- fatherhood test
Pelvis -- cousin of Elvis
Post operative -- letter carrier
Protein -- favouring young people
Rectum -- damn near killed 'em
Recovery room -- place to do upholstery
Rheumatic -- amorous
Scar -- rolled tobacco leaf
Secretion -- hiding anything
Seizure -- Roman emperor
Serology -- study of knighthood
Tablet -- small tablet
Terminal illness -- sickness at airport
Tibia -- country in North Africa
Tumour -- an extra pair
Urine -- opposite of you're out
Varicose -- located nearby
Vein -- conceited
Acyclone01
Re: Testicole & Pishta Bacs Dancs,
Astia doi imi amintesc de bravii nostri militieni de vesela
amintire,care
mergeau in perechi pentru ca unul stia sa scrie si celalalt sa citeasca:
Pishta
stie sa scrie pre limba lui Shake iar Testicole pe a lui Make !
Ma gandesc chiar sa-i inperechiem: vad ca Pishta o face pe godacul in
calduri iar Testy e obsedat de anatomia subsolului.Cupluri celebre !
Ines Weber
Stai, dar eu stiam ca mai era si-al treilea militian, bagatorul de
seama, ala era celebru care desi nu stia nici sa scrie nici sa citeasa,
dar vezi tu Doamne era sef.
Baga matale in continuare de seama, si minuneaza-te, stiu ca-ti crapa
bila de invidie ca ei pot si tu nu (decit poate prin gaura cheii)
--
?_
Aergistal
Eugen:
Dacā ai cu seriozitate īncredere in ceea ce spui, amitteste-ti proverbul: cīnii latrā, caravana trece.
P.S. ā = Alt131, iar ī = Alt140
EugenDuval
Ai foarte mare dreptate. Ignorarea este cea mai buna arma in acest caz.
Mai degraba o rasuflare dela un cal mort decit indreptarea spre bine a
unui mitocan. Mitocanul asa se naste (LA 7 ANI) si asa va muri. Este greu
sa-l indrepti la batranete (adica dupa cei sapte ani neprimiti acasa).
Speram si eu intr-o minune, mai ales acum de Pasti ! (Sa nu vorbim insa de
Pasti ca-i mai dau o idee de injuratura sfanta !)
Stephen Dancs
fredy (av...@lafn.org) writes:
>
> He displayed his wide sonic
> range with tenor, baritone, and bass fart sounds. He imitated the farts
> of a little girl, a mother-in-law, a bride on her wedding night (tiny),
> the same bride the day after (loud), and a mason (dry-- "no cement"). He
> imitated thunder, cannons ("Gunners stand by your guns! Ready-- fire!!")
> and even the sound of a dressmaker tearing two yards of calico (a full
> 10-second rip). After the imitations, Le Petomane popped backstage to
> put one end of a yard-long rubber tube into his anus. He returned and
> smoked a cigarette from this tube, after which he used it to play a
> couple of tunes on a song flute. For his finale he removed the rubber
> tube, blew out some of the gas-jet footlights from a safe distance away,
> and then led the audience in a rousing sing- along.
>
> This first night, a few tightly-corseted women in the audience literally
> fainted from laughing so hard.
Fainted only?! Cheese-Sauce Christ, I've almost died of laughter just by
reading about it! You almost put me into the... humour hospital Fredisor!
What a perfidious way to get rid of a rival! :^)
(L'Erotomane du mal.)
COQUIN01
Nea Jenica,
Te fecalizezi pe matale, te vaicaresti ca o fleoartza, te lamentezi,
si-i
dai int'runa cu mitocanii dar sa stii ca Mitocanul No 1 esti Tu !
Te-ai sifonat ca Val te-a prins cu matza-n sac ca habar n-ai de engleza
iar romaneasca ai uitat-o ( eu cred ca n-ai stiut-o niciodata ) si
pretzios cum
esti nu-l ierti pana la moarte. Dar vrei sa stii ceva: tu ai comis cele
mai multe
mitocanii ,pe cand val ti-a raspuns urban,civilizat si...la obiect, pe
cand tu bati
campii exact cum faceai si la tabara de pionieri. Sau ai fost Pres. de
sindicat ?
Ceva "goanga' ai fost tu al comunisti, se vede de la o posta ,ca nu te
poti dez-
bara de obiceiul de-a face " duciuplina, mai tovarasi " .
Cine iti da tie dreptul,ma, gansac umflat., sa vii sa ne trasezi noua
sarcini si
norme de comportare ? Cine te-a pus pe tine, agramatule, sef si aici ? In
Roma-
nia oi fi fost tu ca erai membrache de partid ,dar aici noi te trimitem in
aia matii
daca incerci sa faci pe militianul cu noi.
Tie ti se potriveste ca o manusa zicala: Prostul nu e prost destul
daca nu e si
fudul !
Du-te-n mata de capra raioasa si nu mai behai pe board. Tine-ti balele
pentru
tine sa le servesti familiei tale.
Q