Made with Love

WOW Thread. I can't believe this actually happened.

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papasmerf said:
the on;y reliable news source is if you see it for yourself

Even then, it depends on how many drinks you've had.

even then it is better than CNN

Wow, I can't believe that this conversation didn't take place in a more appropriate thread.

Sarah said:
Stone age axe found with wood handle

You know what gave cave men wood? Fat chicks. This is from one of the classified ads in the first issue of Neow magazine, (April 6, 23,607 BC, [February 6, 23,607 BC, on the Julian Calendar]):








These last few posts, (#718-#723), from we three, might serve a greater purpose, if they were moved to the Richard Simmons has aids thread, where they rightfully belong, so they would no longer disrupt the narrative of this thread, where certain individuals come to seek refuge from the omnipresent pork room spillover.
 
bobistheowl said:
Wow, I can't believe that this conversation didn't take place in a more appropriate thread.

These last few posts, (#718-#723), from we three, might serve a greater purpose, if they were moved to the Richard Simmons has aids thread, where they rightfully belong, so they would no longer disrupt the narrative of this thread, where certain individuals come to seek refuge from the omnipresent pork room spillover.

Do you try to micromanage all the conversations that take place around you in real life too bob?
 
Sarah said:
Do you try to micromanage all the conversations that take place around you in real life too bob?

I guess you didn't see my new avatar.





I can't believe that happened :-Cool/"

Must I retrain you after every meal?



Only papasmerf will understand the image joke, and neither of us will explain it to the rest of you, for completely different reasons.
 
I guess you didn't see my new avatar.

Only papasmerf will understand the image joke, and neither of us will explain it to the rest of you, for completely different reasons.

No I didn't notice your avatar until you pointed it out. NO SOUP FOR YOU!

Sounds like you and papa are gettin' tight. :wink2:
 
Wow - I can't believe this actually happened in the I-can't-believe-this-actually-happened thread. I guess we're back on topic.

:-Cool/"
 
No I didn't notice your avatar until you pointed it out. NO SOUP FOR YOU!

Sounds like you and papa are gettin' tight. :wink2:





I have no problem whatsoever with any of the things either of you do.

I have very big problems with where you do it.

That's no secret. I've said it, I don't know, at least 15 times, publicly and privately, in a number of different threads and PMs.

There are times when I like to sit in my backyard and pontificate, (#3), and I get hit on the head by a long rib bone, with a bunch of sauce on one end, that some kid at the barbeque in the backyard of the house next door threw over the fence. I don't mind when the neighbour kids come by to pet the pheasant, in the avian vivarium. I don't mind if they want to use the tree house, I didn't fix the broken floor boards for me. I don't mind if they want to read a stack of comic books. I don't mind if they want to ask me a bunch of dumb questions. I don't mind if they want to show me the story that got them a gold star from the teacher who doesn't give them to everyone. I do mind, when they play tic-tac-toe on the garage door, with an indelible marker. The neighbour on the other side was not quite as patient.

Anyone who has ever ridden public transit would agree that there is one thing they dread the most. It's not the crazy woman who goes up to everyone and asks if they have two dollars. It's not the guy with the deaf mute cards. It's not the guy handing out those two by four inch religious comic books. It's not the guy on the opposite side of the subway car that thinks you're starring at him. It's not the homeless guy with wet trousers, well it is him, but they can't afford public transit anymore. I'm not talking about Mad Man, in case someone was reading too much into that. He knows which restaurants will give him access to a clean toilet in which to wash his hair, and a saucer of warm milk, for some get up and go.

It's not the teenager with a huge backpack that turns his entire body around to talk to his buddies, standing on either side of him. It's not the man who wears the same suit jacket all summer long, holding the strap. It's the nine year-olds on a field trip, and the background noise they create.
 
I have no problem whatsoever with any of the things either of you do.

I have very big problems with where you do it.

That's no secret. I've said it, I don't know, at least 15 times, publicly and privately, in a number of different threads and PMs.

There are times when I like to sit in my backyard and pontificate, (#3), and I get hit on the head by a long rib bone, with a bunch of sauce on one end, that some kid at the barbeque in the backyard of the house next door threw over the fence. I don't mind when the neighbour kids come by to pet the pheasant, in the avian vivarium. I don't mind if they want to use the tree house, I didn't fix the broken floor boards for me. I don't mind if they want to read a stack of comic books. I don't mind if they want to ask me a bunch of dumb questions. I don't mind if they want to show me the story that got them a gold star from the teacher who doesn't give them to everyone. I do mind, when they play tic-tac-toe on the garage door, with an indelible marker. The neighbour on the other side was not quite as patient.

Anyone who has ever ridden public transit would agree that there is one thing they dread the most. It's not the crazy woman who goes up to everyone and asks if they have two dollars. It's not the guy with the deaf mute cards. It's not the guy handing out those two by four inch religious comic books. It's not the guy on the opposite side of the subway car that thinks you're starring at him. It's not the homeless guy with wet trousers, well it is him, but they can't afford public transit anymore. I'm not talking about Mad Man, in case someone was reading too much into that. He knows which restaurants will give him access to a clean toilet in which to wash his hair, and a saucer of warm milk, for some get up and go.

It's not the teenager with a huge backpack that turns his entire body around to talk to his buddies, standing on either side of him. It's not the man who wears the same suit jacket all summer long, holding the strap. It's the nine year-olds on a field trip, and the background noise they create.

If you try to control what others do or say you become diminished in many ways.

You can ask for cooperation and in fact can also give it.

But to chastise others diminishes you and not those you criticize.

Now back to the threads intent if you would.
 
"As Thanksgiving approaches, Tofurkys in Seattle can breathe easy, even if real turkeys can't."

https://www.foxnews.com/us/2014/11/25/tofu-turkeys-get-thanksgiving-pardons-in-seattle/
 
I have no problem whatsoever with any of the things either of you do.

I have very big problems with where you do it.

That's no secret. I've said it, I don't know, at least 15 times, publicly and privately, in a number of different threads and PMs.

There are times when I like to sit in my backyard and pontificate, (#3), and I get hit on the head by a long rib bone, with a bunch of sauce on one end, that some kid at the barbeque in the backyard of the house next door threw over the fence. I don't mind when the neighbour kids come by to pet the pheasant, in the avian vivarium. I don't mind if they want to use the tree house, I didn't fix the broken floor boards for me. I don't mind if they want to read a stack of comic books. I don't mind if they want to ask me a bunch of dumb questions. I don't mind if they want to show me the story that got them a gold star from the teacher who doesn't give them to everyone. I do mind, when they play tic-tac-toe on the garage door, with an indelible marker. The neighbour on the other side was not quite as patient.

Anyone who has ever ridden public transit would agree that there is one thing they dread the most. It's not the crazy woman who goes up to everyone and asks if they have two dollars. It's not the guy with the deaf mute cards. It's not the guy handing out those two by four inch religious comic books. It's not the guy on the opposite side of the subway car that thinks you're starring at him. It's not the homeless guy with wet trousers, well it is him, but they can't afford public transit anymore. I'm not talking about Mad Man, in case someone was reading too much into that. He knows which restaurants will give him access to a clean toilet in which to wash his hair, and a saucer of warm milk, for some get up and go.

It's not the teenager with a huge backpack that turns his entire body around to talk to his buddies, standing on either side of him. It's not the man who wears the same suit jacket all summer long, holding the strap. It's the nine year-olds on a field trip, and the background noise they create.

I'm really sorry you have problems with where I choose to post bob, and I'm even sorrier that you find my posts to be the equivalent of graffiti on your garage door or background noise made by nine year-olds on a field trip.

:Crying/:
 
Sarah said:
I'm really sorry you have problems with where I choose to post bob, and I'm even sorrier that you find my posts to be the equivalent of graffiti on your garage door or background noise made by nine year-olds on a field trip.

:Crying/:

No, you wrote the gold star story. The graffiti part is smerf. The problem is that your mom tied a bungee cord to both of your belts, so he wouldn't wander off into traffic.

A hand print in fresh cement is OK. The same hand print in every new piece of sidewalk is excessive. The other kids have grown out of that stage. The problem is, when one kid does it, all the other ones think it's OK to do it there, too, and pretty soon, you have to make a new cement square, because of all the hand prints in the last one.

There are plenty of places here for tomfoolery, but every day, the world loses several hundred acres of rain forest, just to create additional pasture land for domesticated ungulates.

OK, the reading audience likes that kind of stuff, TOS Star Trek, rather than TNG. Everybody getting along 100% of the time isn't realistic. Disagreement is necessary to create interest, or funny stuff. Exchanges of thought that, unlike emoticons, still hold one's attention, if read at a future date. No one TIVOs the weather station.

Back on track!
 
Jackie Stewart used to do television commercials in French.

Like most Formula One drivers, Jackie could speak English, French and Italian, at least, in order to communicate with mechanics, sponsors, and The Press. He drove for MATRA, (Mécanique Aviation Traction), in 1968 and '69, (then using the Cosworth DFV engine) winning his first World Driver's Championship in 1969 for them. They later made their own F1 V-12 engine for 1970-72, but only made the podium five times, all third places.

They later made engines for Shadow in 1975 and L'Equipe Ligier from 1976-79, with Gitanes sponsorship, and again in 1981-82, as Talbot, but none of their engines were turbocharged.

Jackie shilled Blue Polly Car Wax in commercials that aired in Quebec, probably filmed while he was in North America to do commentary for the Canadian Grand Prix and the US Grand Prix East at Watkins Glen, which used to be the last two races of the season, in September, after they dropped the Mexico race, because the track was so dangerous, and the spectators were so stupid. It's really weird, hearing French spoken with a thick Scottish accent.

Those Mexican spectators used to sit on bales of straw that were, like, three feet from the racing line, with no guard rail in between, and some of the corners had half tires embedded in the ground, with no curbing, just paint, which would be like ice, if it rained, and the tires would launch a car sky high, if it hit one of them.




Full size:

Drivers didn't wear seat belts back then, either, because if the car went upside down, they'd land on their heads. They had a better chance of surviving if they were thrown clear.
 

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bobistheowl said:
Jackie Stewart used to do television commercials in French.

Like most Formula One drivers, Jackie could speak English, French and Italian, at least, in order to communicate with mechanics, sponsors, and The Press. He drove for MATRA, (Mécanique Aviation Traction), in 1968 and '69, (then using the Cosworth DFV engine) winning his first World Driver's Championship in 1969 for them. They later made their own F1 V-12 engine for 1970-72, but only made the podium five times, all third places.

They later made engines for Shadow in 1975 and L'Equipe Ligier from 1976-79, with Gitanes sponsorship, and again in 1981-82, as Talbot, but none of their engines were turbocharged.

Jackie shilled Blue Polly Car Wax in commercials that aired in Quebec, probably filmed while he was in North America to do commentary for the Canadian Grand Prix and the US Grand Prix East at Watkins Glen, which used to be the last two races of the season, in September, after they dropped the Mexico race, because the track was so dangerous, and the spectators were so stupid. It's really weird, hearing French spoken with a thick Scottish accent.

Those Mexican spectators used to sit on bales of straw that were, like, three feet from the racing line, with no guard rail in between, and some of the corners had half tires embedded in the ground, with no curbing, just paint, which would be like ice, if it rained, and the tires would launch a car sky high, if it hit one of them.




Full size:

Drivers didn't wear seat belts back then, either, because if the car went upside down, they'd land on their heads. They had a better chance of surviving if they were thrown clear.

Ah, those early Grand Prix from the 60's and 70's were exercises in how to kill spectators and drivers alike.
 
papasmerf said:
Yup

A lot like NASCAR

I used to go to races at a small 1/4 mile track in Nilestown and a 1/2 mile track in Delaware when I was a kid, so that'd be back in the 60's. Demolition Derby's and Figure 8 races were my fav.
 
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