Gaius Octavius

That cleared it all up! Now for the 11th dimension. A line from my eye through the dot! Can't see the line but it's there.

Kosmo: The Red Sox lost to the White Sox after 19 innings. Baseball! ^_^ The question isn't so much what was Zidane thinking, but rather which head he was thinking with. Doesn't it occur that Zidane could have started the affair? -_- Didn't you see the barber shop doings at the end of the game? Gaius' creative mind indeed! We all know that the 'best' team always looses. As a Doctor of Metaphysics, I suggest that you and tflex pop a pill; nab a nap and wait until the next Cup! Then, put your gold on the U.S.

Look for me in Euro 2008. I'll try to get a tan In the meanwhile, would you like to buy a slightly used pony tail to pin on your backside in 2008?

Alright I cried, now I'm simply angry and outraged. I must take my revenge out on someone. What shall I ever do? Maybe hire the mafia to carry out my revenge, or maybe the next time the Italian national team plays, I'll take my clothes off and jump on the field to mock the Italian players by drawing the flag of Italy on my visible backside. Anger, outrage and revenge are entrees best eaten cold. Do dine often. Mayhaps your purse is lighter by a few lira!?. In any event do you really think that the Mothers And Fathers Italian Association would aid you in your unholy quest? You are encouraged in your last endeavor. Please give early warning Yeah, but the Sox lost...in the 19th And well they should!

I am sure that the lads know what they are doing. It's my useless wits that get in the way.

Fye ! Fye ! do I detect gloatery ? Already I see thy bloody plan Blackadder, thou wudst drown Middlesex in a vat of sack! ( or is that a sack of bats?) :pimp: and become King! Nay, sir, nay. You err. It is mockery! Consider well the preceeding. Why should I waste a vat of sack or for that matter a sack of bats? My Lord, if it helps you, the Glorious Yankees lost today. P. S. My Lord, I have made some comments to your usual excellent pictures in re 'Scutum". You are excused. Cry well. Cry long. Cry often.

Oh!, dear me! Five to three! Now the twaddle begins. And the Romans went to sleep in the second half - Ha! - but the Gauls DIDN'T score! Goes to show you that the Italians don't have to be awake to beat the French! Poor Zidane! Why didn't he go out there with a pistol? Let us assume that he was in the kick-off and further presume that he scored. Then it might have been 5 to 4. But what if one of the chaps who scored was unloaded? 5-3! Same thing. Sour grapes are best served to arm chair coaches.

At some point, one would have to ask the question: Does it matter and if so, how and why?

Infinity?!

Are you sure that wasn't Justin, Justinian's father?

Well, did your stuff work? Do I have to give Tex a jingle for an appointment? Since she is a card carrying, gun toting member in very good standing of PETA, and if you have enough varmints, mightn't cost anything. If she is in the neighborhood - gratis.

Actually, I wonder if the clod spelled 'bomb' correctly. Don't think that it is in the manual. But then they may be a crafty lot. It's probably going to catch on with some other cretins. Then we'll get the real thing.

Komrades: Gaius' reason for existence weekend last was to deliver and retrieve Consort to and from her venue for peddling her horsey stuff. In the interim, the booze and fodder held out and a project was accomplished in peace. Now comes Monday when Gaius was to retrieve said Individual. When the time to commence the voyage arrived, C. did not get his dumper into gear at the appointed hour. No matter. When the mission was almost accomplished, and we approached the wig-wam, the streets were cordoned off. Gumshoes all over the place. No matter; we'll simply take another route. This was not in the plan. Loaded with horsey carp C., pled with the gestapo (making untruthful claims), to allow him to pass. Didn't work. Some flatfoot babe gave C. a ration of feculence. Could have pulled her pony tail out by the roots. Of a sudden, C. noted that there were all sorts of cops, firemen, bomb squad types, and first responders of all varieties ranging hither and dither like cockroaches at a picnic. Sirens singing, air horns squawking, and the inevitable lights flashing away. Commissioned Consort to discover the matter. Bombs! Not one, many! All over the place! As mentioned earlier, C. couldn't get chariot through, but busses and casual strollers could. Nice! Apparently bombs have no effect on this lot. C. broiled in body and spirit for two hours. Finally, it was over - and even got a parking spot near the palace. To make a short story even longer, it turns out that some OUCH! had gone around the neighborhood planting boxes with the word 'bomb' on them. In passing, C. advised a gendarme that when the Oh! No! was caught, its supposed parents should be neutered. Some other charitable suggestions were made concerning the Lordy, Lordy! . Did I mention that Sen. Schumer lives a few doors down from the estate? Since the media has kept its tounge on this little to-do, all y'all probably think that C. has concocted this story! Now we go to this AM. It is alleged on the radio that a group of Not really too bad. want to blow a hole in the Holland Tunnel and sink the Isle of Manhattan. Not really a bad idea. Could start over with a clean conscience. Nonetheless, a clear case of idiocy gone amok. Wouldn't Nu Joyzee sink into the bargain? Gaius only reports the facts, :notworthy:

My Lords, for your kind obflancences, I am truly trelaced. Chew on that whilst I prepare to visit my quacks. See all y'all later this very day.

Agreed! There are all too many of those around, i.e., fried Brains.

And did it clear the stomach? Or don't we want to know? I now have a mental picture of wealthy bon vivant Roman cocks (Gallus gallinaceus) in their luxury farmyards demanding a daily half pint of camel's milk before adjourning to the henhouse. But what they didn't see was the surgeon's knife approaching ... I can't wait for when His Most August Lordship tenders his recipe for pre- digested pizzels.

It is awkward for the right hand to grab the hilt of the sword if the scabbord is on the left. Also, ones stomach gets in the way. If the shield is not moved a considerable distance, one stands a good chance of slashing the left forearm.

That's done it. I'm off of flesh!

Yes, AD, I did mean butcher's windows, in the U.S. Brain not fully winded at writing :notworthy: Is there a story in re French horse butcher's windows?

Doesn't seem to come up.

Galen made me do it... :angel: Hate to play 'can you top this', but.... In 'ethnic' neighborhoods one may see the other male attachment hanging in the windows. Nope, never tasted it. I wonder what one would find in a French neighborhood! In re brains, does the phrase 'Mad Cow Disease' mean anything to anyone?