Barack Obama, our next President

"The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep," Obama cautioned. Young and charismatic but with little experience on the national level, Obama smashed through racial barriers and easily defeated ... Full Story
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801127 Nov 9, 2012
DEBIL NOT HERE TO CONVERSE WITH YOU, SWEETIE, QUITE THE CONTRARY. STICK WITH IT THOUGH, YOU'LL FIGURE IT OUT... OR NOT..

“I'm here with bells on.”

Since: Jul 12

Location hidden

#801128 Nov 9, 2012
Skidrow Bums Party wrote:
<quoted text>
You would rather have a free candy bar than work for a plate of beef and broccoli.
FREEBEE BUM party.
And you would rather have a government defense contract than a job cleaning toilets.

What's your point?
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801130 Nov 9, 2012
As spring came on, a new set of amusements became the fashion, and the lengthening days gave long afternoons for work and play of all sorts. The garden had to be put in order, and each sister had a quarter of the little plot to do what she liked with. Hannah used to say, "I'd know which each of them gardings belonged to, ef I see 'em in Chiny," and so she might, for the girls' tastes differed as much as their characters. Meg's had roses and heliotrope, myrtle, and a little orange tree in it. Jo's bed was never alike two seasons, for she was always trying experiments. This year it was to be a plantation of sun flowers, the seeds of which cheerful land aspiring plant were to feed Aunt Cockle-top and her family of chicks. Beth had old-fashioned fragrant flowers in her garden, sweet peas and mignonette, larkspur, pinks, pansies, and southernwood, with chickweed for the birds and catnip for the pussies. Amy had a bower in hers, rather small and earwiggy, but very pretty to look at, with honeysuckle and morning-glories hanging their colored horns and bells in graceful wreaths all over it, tall white lilies, delicate ferns, and as many brilliant, picturesque plants as would consent to blossom there.

Gardening, walks, rows on the river, and flower hunts employed the fine days, and for rainy ones, they had house diversions, some old, some new, all more or less original. One of these was the `P.C', for as secret societies were the fashion, it was thought proper to have one, and as all of the girls admired Dickens, they called themselves the Pickwick Club. With a few interruptions, they had kept this up for a year, and met every Saturday evening in the big garret, on which occasions the ceremonies were as follows: Three chairs were arranged in a row before a table on which was a lamp, also four white badges, with a big `P.C.' in different colors on each, and the weekly newspaper called, The Pickwick Portfolio, to which all contributed something, while Jo, who reveled in pens and ink, was the editor. At seven o'clock, the four members ascended to the clubroom, tied their badges round their heads, and took their seats with great solemnity. Meg, as the eldest, was Samuel Pickwick, Jo, being of a literary turn, Augustus Snodgrass, Beth, because she was round and rosy, Tracy Tupman, and Amy, who was always trying to do what she couldn't, was Nathaniel Winkle. Pickwick, the president, read the paper, which was filled with original tales, poetry, local news, funny advertisements, and hints, in which they good-naturedly reminded each other of their faults and short comings. On one occasion, Mr. Pickwick put on a pair of spectacles without any glass, rapped upon the table, hemmed, and having stared hard at Mr. Snodgrass, who was tilting back in his chair, till he arranged himself properly, began to read:
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801131 Nov 9, 2012
Again we meet to celebrate
With badge and solemn rite,
Our fifty-second anniversary,
In Pickwick Hall, tonight.

We all are here in perfect health,
None gone from our small band:
Again we see each well-known face,
And press each friendly hand.

Our Pickwick, always at his post,
With reverence we greet,
As, spectacles on nose, he reads
Our well-filled weekly sheet.

Although he suffers from a cold,
We joy to hear him speak,
For words of wisdom from him fall,
In spite of croak or squeak.

Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high,
With elephantine grace,
And beams upon the company,
With brown and jovial face.

Poetic fire lights up his eye,
He struggles 'gainst his lot.
Behold ambition on his brow,
And on his nose, a blot.

Next our peaceful Tupman comes,
So rosy, plump, and sweet,
Who chokes with laughter at the puns,
And tumbles off his seat.

Prim little Winkle too is here,
With every hair in place,
A model of propriety,
Though he hates to wash his face.

The year is gone, we still unite
To joke and laugh and read,
And tread the path of literature
That doth to glory lead.

Long may our paper prosper well,
Our club unbroken be,
And coming years their blessings pour
On the useful, gay `P. C.'.
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801132 Nov 9, 2012
Gondola after gondola swept up to the marble steps, and left its lovely load to swell the brilliant throng that filled the stately halls of Count Adelon. Knights and ladies, elves and pages, monks and flower girls, all mingled gaily in the dance. Sweet voices and rich melody filled the air, and so with mirth and music the masquerade went on. "Has your Highness seen the Lady viola tonight?" asked a gallant troubadour of the fairy queen who floated down the hall upon his arm.

"Yes, is she not lovely, though so sad! Her dress is well chosen, too, for in a week she weds Count Antonio, whom she passionately hates."

"By my faith, I envy him. Yonder he comes, arrayed like a bridegroom, except the black mask. When that is off we shall see how he regards the fair maid whose heart he cannot win, though her stern father bestows her hand," returned the troubadour.

"Tis whispered that she loves the young English artist who haunts her steps, and is spurned by the old Count," said the lady, as they joined the dance.

The revel was at its height when a priest appeared, and withdrawing the young pair to an alcove, hung with purple velvet, he motioned them to kneel. Instant silence fell on the gay throng, and not a sound, but he dash of fountains or the rustle of orange groves sleeping in the moonlight, broke the hush, as Count de Adelon spoke thus:

"My lords and ladies, pardon the ruse by which I have gathered you here to witness the marriage of my daughter. Father, we wait your services."

All eyes turned toward the bridal party, and a murmur of amazement went through the throng, for neither bride nor groom removed their masks. Curiosity and wonder possessed all hearts, but respect restrained all tongues till the holy rite was over. Then the eager spectators gathered round the count, demanding an explanation.

"Gladly would I give it if I could, but I only know that it was the whim of my timid Viola, and I yielded to it. Now, my children, let the play end. Unmask and receive my blessing."

But neither bent the knee, for the young bridegroom replied in a tone that startled all listeners as the mask fell, disclosing the noble face of Ferdinand Devereux, the artist lover, and leaning on the breast where now flashed the star of an English earl was the lovely Viola, radiant with joy and beauty.

"My lord, you scornfully bade me claim your daughter when I could boast as high a name and vast a fortune as the Count Antonio. I can do more, for even your ambitious soul cannot refuse the Earl of Devereux and De Vere, when he gives his ancient name and boundless wealth in return for the beloved hand of this fair lady, now my wife.

The count stood like one changed to stone, and turning to the bewildered crowd, Ferdinand added, with a gay smile of triumph, "To you, my gallant friends, I can only wish that your wooing may prosper as mine has done, and that you may all win as fair a bride as I have by this masked marriage."

S. PICKWICK
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801133 Nov 9, 2012
Why is the P. C. like the Tower of Babel?

It is full of unruly members.

STUMBLED ON THIS ONE, IT'S DELIGHTFUL... A HAPPY ACCIDENT.
TheIndependentMa jority

Somerset, KY

#801134 Nov 9, 2012
Soo, how much hate n spew pages any one miss here today-Bueller..

GOD Bless America, our troops, the CONSTITUTION and TERM LIMITS in the office of POTUS.

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely"

Absolute power corrupts absolutely" arose as part of a quotation by the expansively named and impressively hirsute John Emerich Edward Dalberg Acton, first Baron Acton (18341902). The historian and moralist, who was otherwise known simply as Lord Acton, expressed this opinion in a letter to Bishop Mandell Creighton in 1887:

"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men."

Good reason why--NOT to strive absolutely for "greatness".-NOT from some commieTic credo somewhere.

Oh, the soul doth wanteth, for the pillows now lol.

Since: Dec 08

Location hidden

#801135 Nov 9, 2012
"...He get's away with murder..."

http://youtu.be/MDNO4SWKRgE
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801136 Nov 9, 2012
SO, UM, HOW ARE THINGS IN.. UM.. KALI-SPELL... MON.. MONTANA, EH? IS THAT A REAL PLACE? ARE YOU ONE OF THOSE... WHAT DO YOU CALL 'EM?... OH YES! COWPEOPLE? HOW CHARMING! A REAL COWPERSON! WAIT TIL I TELL MILLIE, SHE'LL BE GREEN WITH ENVY! WHERE WAS I?
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801137 Nov 9, 2012
Once upon a time a farmer planted a little seed. in his garden, and after a while it sprouted and became a vine and bore many squashes. One day in October, when they were ripe, he picked one and took it to market. A grocerman bought and put it in his shop. That same morning, a little girl in a brown hat and blue dress, with a round face and snub nose, went and bought it for her mother. She lugged it home, cut it up, and boiled it in the big pot, mashed some of it salt and butter, for dinner. And to the rest she added a pint of milk, two eggs, four spoons of sugar, nutmeg, and some crackers, put it in a deep dish, and baked it till it was brown and nice, and next day it was eaten by a family named March.

T. TUPMAN

Mr. Pickwick, Sir:--

I address you upon the subject of sin the sinner I mean is a man named Winkle who makes trouble in his club by laughing and sometimes won't write his piece in this fine paper I hope you will pardon his badness and let him send a French fable because he can't write out of his head as he has so many lessons to do and no brains in future I will try to take time by the fetlock and prepare some work which will be all commy la fo that means all right I am in haste as it is nearly school time.

Yours respectably,
N. WINKLE

[The above is a manly and handsome aknowledgment of past misdemeanors. If our young friend studied punctuation, it would be well.]

“Amor patriae.”

Since: Feb 08

Eastern Oregon

#801138 Nov 9, 2012
THE DEBIL wrote:
(SO, UM, HOW IT FEEL TO SEE YOU FRIENDS, YOU ENTIRE WORLDVIEW, SHREDDED? DEBIL CAIN'T HEP BUT NOTICE YOU CLOTHES IN RAGS... YOU STILL ENJOYIN' YOUSELF? CAUSE DEBIL TAKE YOU WORDS TO HEART AN' NOW HE JUS' ENJOYIN' HISSELF TOO. YOU RECKON ANYBODY ELSE IS THOUGH?)
I'm pretty much immune to Obama's machinations, for now, but really, after January is when the party starts.
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801139 Nov 9, 2012
Sister Kathryn Lust wrote:
<quoted text>And you would rather have a government defense contract than a job cleaning toilets.
What's your point?
STILL RESISTING MY PROSE, SISTER? OR IS YOUR RESOLVE BEGINNING TO WEAKEN?(THERE ARE AT LEAST THREE GOOD PUNS IN THERE, ALL OF THEM INTENTIONAL...)
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801140 Nov 9, 2012
killtaker wrote:
"...He get's away with murder..."
http://youtu.be/MDNO8SWKRgE
NOW THAT WE'VE MET YOU AGAIN WHY WOULDN'T WE WANT HIM TO?

Since: Dec 08

Location hidden

#801141 Nov 9, 2012
THE DEBIL wrote:
Again we meet to celebrate
With badge and solemn rite,
Our fifty-second anniversary,
In Pickwick Hall, tonight.
We all are here in perfect health,
None gone from our small band:
Again we see each well-known face,
And press each friendly hand.
Our Pickwick, always at his post,
With reverence we greet,
As, spectacles on nose, he reads
Our well-filled weekly sheet.
Although he suffers from a cold,
We joy to hear him speak,
For words of wisdom from him fall,
In spite of croak or squeak.
Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high,
With elephantine grace,
And beams upon the company,
With brown and jovial face.
Poetic fire lights up his eye,
He struggles 'gainst his lot.
Behold ambition on his brow,
And on his nose, a blot.
Next our peaceful Tupman comes,
So rosy, plump, and sweet,
Who chokes with laughter at the puns,
And tumbles off his seat.
Prim little Winkle too is here,
With every hair in place,
A model of propriety,
Though he hates to wash his face.
The year is gone, we still unite
To joke and laugh and read,
And tread the path of literature
That doth to glory lead.
Long may our paper prosper well,
Our club unbroken be,
And coming years their blessings pour
On the useful, gay `P. C.'.
"When in doubt I whip it out I got me a rock 'n' roll band It's a free-for-all"

Ted Nugent

“My Life Is A Shell Game”

Since: May 07

Lapeer, MI

#801142 Nov 9, 2012
GhostofRaygun wrote:
<quoted text>Oh,,, If we could just have elected this great American as our leader. Look what he could have done for all businesses.
What a businessman Mitt is.
.
WASHINGTON -- On Tuesday, officials from Bain Capital-owned Sensata Technologies threatened to shut down its north-central Illinois plant "immediately and indefinitely" if those protesting the offshoring of the facility's jobs entered the plant in an act of civil disobedience again, according to local city officials.
The plant in Freeport, Ill., which is already scheduled to close at the end of the year, has become an embarrassing campaign issue for GOP presidential nominee Mitt Romney who still owns 51% of the Bain Capital stock. The factory's 170 jobs are being relocated to China. Activists and workers have called on Romney to use his influence with Bain to halt the offshoring.
Stupid is, Stupid does. You are Stupid, alright. Romney placed all of his holdings into a trust. Many politicians do this to cut any ties between their political actions and potential gains from those actions. But that's not good enough for Liberal headhunters. The man did the right thing. Not only that but he left Bain leadership a long time ago.

This is like blaming Joe Schmoe from Hoboken, NJ for the Boy Messiah's abandonment and death of America's Foreign Service Personnel in Benghazi because Joe Schmoe is an American citizen. You kids need to run along and play now:>
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801143 Nov 9, 2012
mdbuilder wrote:
<quoted text>
I'm pretty much immune to Obama's machinations, for now, but really, after January is when the party starts.
TOOK THE WORDS RIGHT OUTTA MY MOUTH
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801144 Nov 9, 2012
Sister Kathryn Lust wrote:
<quoted text>And you would rather have a government defense contract than a job cleaning toilets.
What's your point?
THAT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY CLEVER AND DEBIL HAS DECIDED HE WOULD PROBABLY DO YOU.

“My Life Is A Shell Game”

Since: May 07

Lapeer, MI

#801145 Nov 9, 2012
one for all all for one wrote:
<quoted text>
Strange how Romney stated that he would create 2 million jobs. Strange that he never explained how he was going to do that. Romney is strange.
He said 12 million. You are godawful stupid. If you can't even recall what is being said in a political debate, how in the hell can you expect to understand what is happening now? You are dust in the wind - the breaking wind:}
THE DEBIL

Switzerland

#801147 Nov 9, 2012
On Friday last, we were startled by a violent shock in our basement, followed by cries of distress. On rushing in a body to the cellar, we discovered our beloved President prostrate upon the floor, having tripped and fallen while getting wood for domestic purposes. A perfect scene of ruin met our eyes, for in his fall Mr. Pickwick had plunged his head and shoulders into a tub of water, upset a keg of soft soap upon his manly form, and torn his garments badly. On being removed from this perilous situation, it was discovered that he had suffered no injury but several bruises, and we are happy to add, is now doing well.

ED.

THE PUBLIC BEREAVEMENT

It is our painful duty to record the sudden and mysterious disappearance of our cherished friend, Mrs. Snowball Pat Paw. This lovely and beloved cat was the pet of a large circle of warm and admiring friends; for her beauty attracted all eyes, her graces and virtues endeared her to all hearts, and her loss is deeply felt by the whole community.

When last seen, she was sitting at the gate, watching the butcher's cart, and it is feared that some villain, tempted by her charms, basely stole her. Weeks have passed, but no trace of her has been discovered, and we relinquish all hope, tie a black ribbon to her basket, set aside her dish, and weep for her as one lost to us forever.

A sympathizing friend sends the following gem:

A LAMENT
(FOR S. B. PAT PAW)

We mourn the loss of our little pet,
And sigh o'er her hapless fate,
For never more by the fire she'll sit,
Nor play by the old green gate.

The little grave where her infant sleeps
Is 'neath the chestnut tree.
But o'er her grave we may not weep,
We know not where it may be.

Her empty bed, her idle ball,
Will never see her more;
No gentle tap, no loving purr
Is heard at the parlor door.

Another cat comes after her mice,
A cat with a dirty face,
But she does not hunt as our darling did,
Nor play with her airy grace.

Her stealthy paws tread the very hall
Where Snowball used to play,
But she only spits at the dogs our pet
So gallantly drove away.

She is useful and mild, and does her best,
But she is not fair to see,
And we cannot give her your place dear,
Nor worship her as we worship thee.

A. S.

Since: Dec 08

Location hidden

#801148 Nov 9, 2012
THE DEBIL wrote:
<quoted text>
STILL RESISTING MY PROSE, SISTER? OR IS YOUR RESOLVE BEGINNING TO WEAKEN?(THERE ARE AT LEAST THREE GOOD PUNS IN THERE, ALL OF THEM INTENTIONAL...)
How much pot have you smoked tonight?

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