Gaius Octavius

Look Lost Soul, I wouldn't have mounded if you whacked a living critter, but a dead one! Who thought yoo how to drive?

Am I missing something? Yes, you are missing something. Not only was Caesar the father-in-law of Pompey and not vice-versa, there was no office of triumvir (the triumvirate was a purely informal arrangement) from which the senate could remove Caesar (even if they wanted to), nor was Caesar actually removed from the office of consul by the decree of the whole senate or any portion thereof. Pompey's only son-in-law was F. Cornelius Sulla, who was killed by Caesar's troops in 47. Wrong on so many levels... I think that your usual factual response could have been written in a more positive way as Ingsoc did. You might have meant couldn't remove Caesar. Not a problem.

I didn't forget. I forgot the date. My aunts, uncles, and cousins will never forgive me.

Am I missing something?

Have had my chariot for 25 years. Likes to visit gas stations. Best looking thing on the road. Here is part of it: http://www.unrv.com/forum/index.php?automo...si&img=1049

Air conditioning! A-Bombs! Hearing Aids! Guided Missiles! Ghetto Blasters! Sliced Pastrami! Performance Enhancing Drugs! Banana Ketchup! American Cheese Slices! Reggie Bars! Kool-Aid! Open Brain Surgery! Pineapple Pizza! Coolers! Speed Bumps!

'The House of Ill Fame', aka .... With that regalia, you're going to need a lot of help from St. Jude.

The 'worms' were excellent! Garlic and pine nuts browned in olive oil, and the worms - al dente - flunged into the frying pan for a nonce. The thing with babes is: 'You gotta know when to hold them. 'Know when to fold them. 'Know when to walk away. 'Know when to run. Always keeping in mind that 'The female of the species is more deadly than the male'. WISDOM!

Good luck, Doll. You really ought to let your friends on the Forum know if you will be in their area, and if you will have the time. No sushi, or $2 Buck Chuck!

Da veniam puellae.

There is a pretty good clickable map of the Empires expansion and contraction in the above site.

At first, you must understand that Jacky Kelly and I were the best of friends. Common assaults on each other were a daily practice. Aside from a lot of first-aid, they were of no consequence to neither ourselves, the flatfoots nor our parents, as they all felt that it was much better and safer for us to try to kill each other than for them to do the work. It would also do some little good for our black, sin stained, damned souls. Visitation Place was a one block street, bounded on one side by a great library building, and a lot in which delinquents practiced mayhem on each other. Even the little angelic girls did not exempt themselves from this form of entertainment. On the other side, stood one end of the church, the rectory, a small graveyard, the school, and the nunnery. (For later reference, at one end of the avenue was Taffy Dick's, and on the other a small park.) No vehicle ever trespassed on this Sacred Boulevard, lest it incur the rage of the nuns. The fact that the criminal urchins would set their tire valves free, and most likely set their wrecks ablaze, did not escape their teamsters. One day, as usual, we were all having at each other in the lot before school began. Then of a sudden, The Bells!, The Bells! Everyone froze. The Bells made an unbelievable racket. They were as big as the Liberty Bell. How those four foot nothing nuns ever swang those things is well beyond my ken. This meant that we were to gather in front of the girl's or boy's entrance to the asylum according to our preferences. Nuns and priests paraded fro and to, to no great advantage, save to put the fear of God into we innocents. Smacks were administered to the boys on general principle. The nun's habits made a provocative swishing sound. Their perfume was enticing. The next broadside meant that we were to line up in size order in the mud gutter. Wound up in fights, and never resulted in the same order twice. Do you know what a carpet gun is? Never mind. This is when Jacky let go with his gun. The missile hit the left ham of my tender coolie. The resultant was a most unbelievable oweee, and terminal harm to my pantaloons. And there was Jacky with a malignant smirk on his devil blessed Irish visage. Since we were on line, I couldn't get at him. I was left with vowing eternal vengeance against Jacky, and his entire race beyond infinity. The next salute meant for all to march into the institution. Girls on one side; boys facing them. Things and insults were hoven at each other. The Bells! The Bells! The flag; the Pledge of Allegiance; the rote prayers for the good of our feculent souls. Off to class. Boys on one side; girls on the other. What ever did those nuns think that the boys would do to the girls - at this time? We never even thought about patent leather shoes. Did you know that they were forbidden in Catholic society? Well, Sister Felicita gave us some worthless chore, and joined her brethren in a prayer meeting. The ammunition we used for our sling shots was salted chick peas. They could either be used in battle or as a snack. In the latter case, I shan't impinge upon your tender sensibilities with the resultant odiforous qualities. Well, I rose to the occasion, slang my pea shooter at Jacky's iron bound head, and let go. Nailed headquarters but good. Pea shattered into dust. Jacky let out a most hellacious feigned yell that woke the deads in the graveyard. Sister thought it best to revisit her crime lab. Caught me standing there with the evidence in hand and chortling. Gavelled the session to order; confiscated sling shot; wrote out a note, and ordered me to bring it to the nunnery. Had to walk down some steps - a positive evil omen. My stomach churned and vaulted. Pressed upon The Bells. A gorgonish looking nun appeared. Doom was at my heels. She read the note and invited me into the vestibule, and then misappeared behind the inner door. The space was about the size of a small closet. Dark, wood paneled. Yellow stained glass and dim yellow lights. Yes, this was the much dreaded entrance to hell! No place to sit, and thus one wants most to sit. Therefore, I perched my personal coolie on the floor. The inner door opened a crack, and I beheld a bald nun! Bald as a tomato! Yes!, this was hell! Would they roast me? Toast me? Fricassee me? I spent a few terror laden hours there with my heart in my gullet. Next day, Jacky got me with an ice cream cone - down my shirt! Thank you Jacky, I hope that you get shingles, and pass your days in agony.

O00h!, look, Moon(col)lapse has a new hat!

Yup!, and in my vaunted opinion, this equality business has gone much too far. It should have been stopped at the kitchen(?) door! All it has gotten us is the likes of your illegitimate tormentors, and the likes of Nomina Domina, Magistra, and Tattletale! Good grief!!! A Hex, a Homophone, and a Hatchet just Hove past me! And I will wager that many think that the spellings 'woemens' and 'woeman' are a gross blunder, and should not be entered within Dr. Johnson's lists. MSFT's new, improved, and faster Hotmail is just a little slower than a snail climbing up a string. No . Addendum. Upon viewing this, my Bride just bashed my head! Methinks I'll be served worms for dinner.

Sulf(whatevers) aren't good for pregnant women. Melvadius is quite right. Whisky is supposed to taste the same out of each bottle over the years. A one year old bottle of the same wine will taste differently from a ten year old bottle. -------------------------------- In my time and business, there was a guy who was a buyer of bonds. He would take two lunches per day. He would always chose the most expensive wines. One day, some delinquents set him up. They had the sommelier fill up an unlabeled bottle with a particularly vile decoction called 'Virginia Dare'. This fluid was really cheap, and made from stem to stern in Brookfordshiresexingham. It was the favorite of down and out winos. He was asked if, in his enlightened opinion, it should be added to the carte de vin. Yup, fell for it hook, line, and cork. His hosts had to make a hasty retreat to the commode to relieve themselves of a sudden attack of hilarity.

I hope that I have this right: "To the Romans, war was but bloody practice."

..., and many more to come!

That is the problem with most of the New World wines and why we generally won't touch them. Luckily it is usually possible to smell the vile stuff as soon as the bottle is opened but that doesn't help if you only realise after you have bought the bottle. As to the Algerian wine, it had been dumped into a very well respected French wine for decades. Somehow, the French government caught up with it. The Kali squeezings were shown to be half and half and not the proper variety they were supposed to be. Austrian wines are supposed to be full of sulfides. After WWII, in Italy, people sold 'chianti' from their Vespas. No grape squeezings in it at all! I am waiting for some good old Brookfordshiresexingham home squeezings to reappear.

A good job is being done on Question #1. I've got so much spinning around in my head, so please excuse me. Should I take it that the pieces themselves are 'fluid' as Melvadius says about words, i.e., their meaning then and along the way to now? (I have felt this way about the Bible.) Doc and MPC have hit me with monkey wrenches. How, when, and where can one trust the veracity of a writing, or the evidence of 'things'? (I am not trying to be cynical, paranoid, nor a nihilist.) As between accredited and differing scholars in the same time period, how would one know who to accept? I am presented with another problem. The alleged recorded speeches of the great men. I think (have read) that they are to some degree the fabrications of authors. Please also work on the other two questions, and thanks for your help.

Sulfides. Remember the Algerian and Kali4kneeya scandals of some time back?

I am not trying to be a bad boy. I am serious. So, don't anyone get their knickers in a twist. If ancient sources are the only reliable sources, what is the point of any new work? When do ancient sources come to an end? Who is the last ancient source?

I believe the proper name is "Old Swill" That and Black Label were my budget beers of choice back in college. Brrrrrrr ... ! My Good Man! Some years ago, Old Milwaukee was put up against a gaggle of beers, including such titles as Heineken, by Consumer Reports. Hate to rain on your parade, but O.M. won gulps down. You went to college?, or was it Reform School? Your most obedient servant,

Upon reflection, the judges weren't really bad guys, after all, they could have meted out stoning or beheading. Now, insofar as woemans are generally concerned, it is my well considered opinion that they should be thrashed once a day with a stick no thicker than the man's thumb, in accordance with the English Common Law. They should also be whipped once a day on general principle. [i'm dead!] Here, in the US recently, a gaggle of gorgeous teachers have been hauled before the assizes for 'raping' some of their male students! Heck, where were they when I was going to school? My whole class would have volunteered and not snitched to the gendarmes.

Bud Lite? You barbarian! Old Milwaukee!