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12:09 - Thursday, Nov. 20, 2008
its a copy and paste, rainy, miserable day!!
nothing going on today, unless you count the fact that its BLISTERING COLD AND RAINY OUTSIDE today; so, here is some humour to chew upon, it will make for some good time wasting material!! enjoy.......
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The following tripe was gleefully stolen from the stranger, seattles only newspaperand reproduced here for your time wasting enjoyment! NONE of this tripe is mine, and im only doing this because (a) i can, and (b) i dont feel good today!
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In times of great strife, decent human beings put aside ideological issues to come together as one and celebrate humanity. As just one example, Taiwanese architect Hsieh Ying-chun (, in his native tongue) designed and oversaw the rebuilding of residences of a small tribe, the Thao, that were destroyed in a major earthquake in 1999. This giant of architecture didn't have to set his life aside in order to help the needy, but he did so, and he has dedicated his life since to constructing affordable housing for the impoverished.

So. Now we face a tanking global economy that is beginning to atrophy a few of my sturdiest and most untouchable offshore accounts. Our woefully inexperienced president-elect seems more interested in making videos of himself and posting them on the Internets than assisting poor, starving U.S. automakers. And what does that pinnacle of Seattle journalism, The Stranger, "Seattle's Only Newspaper," do about this terrible crisis? Provide a sober analysis of the dire situation and enlist several economists to put forth plans that even our incoming infant-in-chief can comprehend and put to good use?

DOMINIC HOLDEN, ELI SANDERS, and DAVID SCHMADER instead decided to waste exorbitant amounts of space with giant photographs of a group of angry sodomites who are upset that they can't play house in California. The photos�which include nudity, wretched indulgences, and a staggering lack of self-awareness�also celebrate a religious intolerance that I have not seen in this country since the Great Tacoman Anti-Semitic Riots of '38. That these nattering "reporters" of the fictional and obscure decided to blame the intolerance that their bizarre and impractical (and rather messy) lifestyle choice attracts on the Mormon Church goes beyond irresponsible journalism. It's baffling and not a little Third-Reichish, although without even the snappy uniforms to their credit.

Perhaps in order to balance this cavalcade of deviance and hate-mongering, Mr. Holden has also written a story this week about Treehouse, an organization that assists foster children. While the story is basically well written, and the cause is beyond reproach, I'd like to assure Mr. Holden that these efforts to redeem his anti-LDS bigotry of a scant few pages before is far too little, way too late. Though I don't claim to fully understand the ways of the Mormons (including the success of their lucrative tithing scheme, which, to be honest, I wish I'd thought of first), I am sure there is now a special stool in Mormon hell awaiting Mr. Holden, right next to the unbaptized Mayans, and I secretly harbor a hope that I will be able to witness his suffering from my righteous perch in Anglican heaven.

In other news, Mr. Sanders gloats about a few journalists who have lost their jobs. At least they didn't have to sell their souls to retain a meager hundred-dollars-a-week salary, Mr. Sanders. Even unemployed, they are still journalists, which is more than anyone at your little angel dust�addled weekly reader can say.
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A Thanksgiving Poem: Quacky, the Thanksgiving Duck

When I was but a tiny lad, no more than five or six,

I received a most enjoyable pet, which was never spayed nor fixed.

He wasn't a pooch, he wasn't a goat, a rat, a fish, nor yak.

My pet had wings (o, marvelous things!) and a beak with which to quack.

A duck! A duck! O, wonderful luck! How very happy am I!

I shall name him "Quacky"�a drake both handsome and shy.

I'll hug him, I'll kiss him, I'll call him sweet names, and never shall we part.

I'll always love my Quacky, from the bottom of my heart.

And so the days passed (some slow, some fast) for my ducky pal and I.

I would take him to school for "show and tell" and feed him mulberry pie.

And when the class bullies would beat me up, my duck would make them pay!

He'd thrash 'em and bash 'em and smash 'em, and then would peck my tears away.

In winter I dressed him in scarves and hats, and we skated on frozen ponds.

In spring we picked flowers, and summer (for hours) we rolled on freshly cut lawns.

But then came November (it hurts to remember), and father offered a deal:

"I'll trade you a puppy, or even a guppy, to make Quacky our Thanksgiving meal!"

I was hurt and confused (and of course I refused!) and firmly put my foot down!

My father said, "Fine! The duck we'll decline!" and left without another sound.

Waddling into view, Quacky said, "Phew!" and rejoiced over these new-found facts.

Yet ignored the suspicious, and oh-so malicious, sound of Papa sharpening his ax....

On Thanksgiving Day, as we sat down to pray, I quickly peeked at the spread.

There was gravy and Jell-O and dressing and.... Hello! Quacky both well-done and dead!

My pet was glazed with a creamy b�arnaise, and then things went all amok.

I went berserk! I lost my head and dashed out the door with the duck.

My family and friends were in hot pursuit, screaming, "That's our dinner, you fool!"

But I couldn't be caught and ran like a shot to throw Quacky in our neighbor's pool.

Kersplash! He went in, and so was the end to Quacky, the King of the Birds.

And goodbye I said to my duck who was dead, with these final heartfelt words:

"O, darling duck! O, delightful duck! O, dainty duck! O dear.

Yours was perhaps the wackiest quack a human could ever hear.

But now your beak is silent. I'll hear your quack no more.

You've departed the ocean of life to waddle a distant shore.

"A duck! A duck! O, wonderful luck! How very happy was I!

And so I named you 'Quacky'�a drake both handsome and shy.

I hugged you, I kissed you, I called you sweet names, and thought we never would part.

I'll always love you, Quacky, from the bottom of my heart."
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TOMORROW, i will get my macy's schedule after 6 more hours of training!! yay!!!
thats all the copy and paste i have for today!!! hava sunshiny day today, i'm not!! aw, boo hoo hoo!!!


"its all wet and cold!"

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