Clean out your PM box?
Clean out your PM box?
This is not the first thread on here with that title. Bodes ill for anyone checking that PM inbox anytime soon.
Hmmmm .... Perhaps earlier threads had the intent of some reproach to Lowell for banning Ravine, and the participation therein might have arguably carried some risk of subsequent banishment to the said participants, but that's not the case with this thread.
Ravine got reinstated, and can participate anytime he so deigns to. I'm guessing his nose is out of joint, that's the only reason we're not hearing from him. C'mon Ravine, at least Detroit Dad is good humored and possesses a playful sense of repartee. You? We're waiting ...
I heard that Ravine had joined the seminary and is busy with studies.
Ravine Sighting: Last week at the sperm bank where I work a very earnest and principled individual was causing a bit of a ruckus. He was loudly refusing payment, claiming the warm and fuzzy feeling he got from donating was reward enough.
I can totally imagine Ravine selflessly donating for the cause.
I was not aware that the devotees at the Rasputin Seminary of the Black Arts were big donators, thought they'd be more hoarding their precious fluids kind of guys.
Xpost to things you learn.
"...And when I bought it not half an hour ago, you assured me that its lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out after a long squawk."
"It's probably pining for the fjords."
I miss Ravine, his charming wit and villainousness won my heart. Pining for Ravine to return someday, at least to check his PMs.
Hap, Ravine can take care of himself. He doesn't need any help from you.
And I apologize for referencing Rasputin. Ravine never studied under Rasputin's watchful gaze, never practiced wooing czarinas, has never drank poison and knows nothing about the Black Arts, wheelchairs or rastahair. In an attempt at being a funny guy, I misrepresented the truth, and as forum software doesn't allow me to delete my old post; I pray this apology will be the first step in realizing the reality that we are a solutions based digital gathering place.
Hap, when he pm'd me I can't recall if he called you a dingleberry diver or smegma flosser, but either way, you didn't come out smelling too good. Keep workin' it though. I'll pass on the better put downs.
You mean you'll take a pass on them, or that you will pass them along?
I hope it's the latter.
Meanwhile, I heard that Ravine was giving a lecture on toast at Toast. The highlight of the monologue was definitely the physics section related to the buttered side and gravity.
This is encouraging, the delicate fragile boy-in-the-bubble takes few petulant slaps at the thin membrane that separates him from his friends who miss him and wish him back. I'm stoked. I think I'll go out and hit a bucket of balls.
you own I'm sure
I was pulling your leg Hap. Sorry to disappoint you but Mr. Swale didn't call you a dingleberry diver, that was all me.
Whatever, the point is I'm trying to tough-love our boy back into the arena. Cmon, if getting banned got you a campaign ribbon I'd have enough fruit salad on my left breast to make even General Patton cream his jeans. I'm really running out of options. Here's the Hail Mary: Ravine, I want you to challenge Lowell to a handball match on Belle Isle, man to man. Set the time, sell tickets, proceeds to the charities of your choices. I'll be there, in the flesh.
HF Acid Casualty?Whatever, the point is I'm trying to tough-love our boy back into the arena. Cmon, if getting banned got you a campaign ribbon I'd have enough fruit salad on my left breast to make even General Patton cream his jeans. I'm really running out of options. Here's the Hail Mary: Ravine, I want you to challenge Lowell to a handball match on Belle Isle, man to man. Set the time, sell tickets, proceeds to the charities of your choices. I'll be there, in the flesh.
Off topic. I'm scrubbing the shithouse after class. This scruffy hang-dog johnny-reb is helping me. Slips me some blotter. I'm like, I'm cool. Nothing ... We get on the ferry, wander around, end up in Battery Park. I'm like, what's the big deal? He says we need a trigger. We burn one. The acid kicks in. NYC on LSD. Sweeeeet.
Last edited by Happie; May-26-11 at 03:01 PM.
Right on, woah, coming atcha now...
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