This thread is probably going to make Tim Raines want to do cocaine again.

AGREE!

like pics are going to make his posts any more interesting

It's more fun to be a victim

There will never be an effective vaccine. I'll never get one anyway.

I'm selling an Epiphone Les Paul Custom (white w/ black pickguard) and a really terrible Epi SG that's the equivalent of a cut of black plywood with strings strapped on.

$100 for the SG, $200 for the Custom. Both guitars need NUT REPLACEMENT and set-up. SG has stickers which read AWESOME on the pickguard that won't come off.

This is the worst deal in the history of the universe.

Also if you fuck someone like they are a millionaire they might go try to be one.

This thread is a tornado of odd.

Our hotel smelled like dead hooker vagina (before you ask I had gotten a detailed description from beardown)

Also if you fuck someone like they are a millionaire they might go try to be one.

Jules: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. Eating a bitch out and giving a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fucking thing.
Vincent: It's not, it's the same ballpark.
Jules: Ain't no fucking ballpark neither. Now, look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but you know touching his wife's feet and sticking your tongue in the holiest of holies ain't the same fucking ball park. It ain't the same league. It ain't even the same fucking sport. Look, foot massages don't mean shit.
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: Don't be telling me about foot massages, I'm the foot fuckin' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of them?
Jules: Shit, yeah! I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothing.
Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?
Jules: [pause] Fuck you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired, I could use a foot massage myself.
Jules: Yo-yo-yo, man, you best back off, I'm getting pissed here. Look, just 'cause I wouldn't give no man a foot massage don't make it right for Marsellus to throw Antoine into a glass motherfucking house fucking up the way the nigga talks. That shit ain't right. Motherfucker do that shit to me, he better paralyze my ass because I'd kill the motherfucker, know what I'm saying?
Vincent: I ain't saying it's right. But you're saying a foot massage don't mean nothing, and I'm saying it does. Now, look, I've given a million ladies a million foot massages, and they all meant something. We act like they don't, but they do, and that's what's so fucking cool about them. There's a sensuous thing going on where you don't talk about it, but you know it, she knows it, fucking Marsellus knew it, and Antoine should have fucking better known better. I mean, that's his fucking wife, man, he ain't have no sense of humor about that shit. You know what I'm saying?

Our hotel smelled like dead hooker vagina (before you ask I had gotten a detailed description from beardown)

Also if you fuck someone like they are a millionaire they might go try to be one.

Sjboyd almost saved this thread. Quick! More Pulp Fiction quotes!

never...I got excited about the fucking guitars.

and it's my birthday today, so I get to do what I want.

Hello, little man. Boy, I sure heard a bunch about you. See, I was a good friend of your dad's. We were in that Hanoi pit of hell together for over five years. Hopefully, you'll never have to experience this yourself, but when two men are in a situation like me and your dad were, for as long as we were, you take on certain responsibilities of the other. If it had been me who had not made it, Major Coolidge would be talking right now to my son Jim. But the way it turned out is I'm talking to you, Butch. I got something for ya. [Holds up watch] This watch I got here was first purchased by your great-grandfather during the first world war. It was bought in a little general store in Knoxville, Tennessee, made by the first company to ever make wrist watches. Up until then, people just carried pocket watches. It was bought by Private Doughboy Ryan Coolidge the day he set sail for Paris. This was your great-grandfather's war watch, and he wore it every day he was in the war. Then when he had done his duty, he went home to your great-grandmother, took the watch and put it in an old coffee can. And in that can it stayed 'til your granddad Dane Coolidge was called upon by his country to go overseas and fight the Germans once again. This time they called it World War Two. Your great-grandfather gave this watch to your granddad for good luck. Unfortunately, Dane's luck wasn't as good as his old man's. Dane was a Marine and he was killed along with all the other Marines at the battle of Wake Island. Your granddad was facing death, and he knew it. None of those boys had any illusions about ever leaving that island alive. So three days before the Japanese took the island, your granddad asked a gunner on an Air Force transport named Winocki, a man he had never met before in his life, to deliver to his infant son, who he had never seen in the flesh, his gold watch. Three days later, your granddad was dead. But Winocki kept his word. After the war was over, he paid a visit to your grandmother, delivering to your infant father, his Dad's gold watch. This watch. This watch was on your Daddy's wrist when he was shot down over Hanoi. He was captured and put in a Vietnamese prison camp. He knew if the gooks ever saw the watch that it'd be confiscated; taken away. The way your Dad looked at it, this watch was your birthright. He'd be damned if any slopes were gonna put their greasy yellow hands on his boy's birthright. So he hid it in the one place he knew he could hide something. His ass. Five long years, he wore this watch up his ass. Then he died of dysentery, he gave me the watch. I hid this uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, little man, I give the watch to you.

Our hotel smelled like dead hooker vagina (before you ask I had gotten a detailed description from beardown)

I have MANY years of experience in trying to appreciate steaming piles of dogshit.

You seem like an ok dude sometimes, Panther. That said, you are going on 'ignore' for a little while. The picture thing is driving me nuts (Argh).

Our hotel smelled like dead hooker vagina (before you ask I had gotten a detailed description from beardown)

You have a lot of nerve showing your face around here after that weak 10,000th post on Friday (and not showing up to the tailgate on Saturday).

There's this passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is The Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee." I been saying that shit for years. And if you heard it, that meant your ass. I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was some cold-blooded shit to say to a motherfucker 'fore I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. See, now I'm thinking, maybe it means you're the evil man, and I'm the righteous man, and Mr. 9 millimeter here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or, it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is, you're the weak, and I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd. And Panther, shut the fuck up for a while.

It's more fun to be a victim

There will never be an effective vaccine. I'll never get one anyway.

Our hotel smelled like dead hooker vagina (before you ask I had gotten a detailed description from beardown)

Mr. Brown: Let me tell you what 'Like a Virgin' is about. It's all about a girl who digs a guy with a big dick. The entire song. It's a metaphor for big dicks.
Mr. Blonde: No, no. It's about a girl who is very vulnerable. She's been fucked over a few times. Then she meets some guy who's really sensitive...
Mr. Brown: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... Time out Greenbay. Tell that fucking bullshit to the tourists.
Joe: Toby... Who the fuck is Toby? Toby...
Mr. Brown: 'Like a Virgin' is not about this sensitive girl who meets a nice fella. That's what "True Blue" is about, now, granted, no argument about that.
Mr. Orange: Which one is 'True Blue'?
Nice Guy Eddie: 'True Blue' was a big ass hit for Madonna. I don't even follow this Tops In Pops shit, and I've at least heard of "True Blue".
Mr. Orange: Look, asshole, I didn't say I ain't heard of it. All I asked was how does it go? Excuse me for not being the world's biggest Madonna fan.
Mr. Blonde: Personally, I can do without her.
Mr. Blue: I like her early stuff. You know, 'Lucky Star', 'Borderline' - but once she got into her 'Papa Don't Preach' phase, I don't know, I tuned out.
Mr. Brown: Hey, you guys are making me lose my... train of thought here. I was saying something, what was it?
Joe: Oh, Toby was this Chinese girl, what was her last name?
Mr. White: What's that?
Joe: I found this old address book in a jacket I ain't worn in a coon's age. What was that name? :
Mr. Brown: What the fuck was I talking about?
Mr. Pink: You said 'True Blue' was about a nice girl, a sensitive girl who meets a nice guy, and that 'Like a Virgin' was a metaphor for big dicks.
Mr. Brown: O.K., let me tell you what Like a Virgin's about. It's all about this cooze who's a regular fuck machine, I'm talking morning, day, night, afternoon, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick.
Mr. Blue: How many dicks is that?
Mr. White: A lot.
Mr. Brown: Then one day she meets this John Holmes motherfucker and it's like, whoa baby, I mean this cat is like Charles Bronson in the Great Escape, he's digging tunnels. Now, she's gettin' the serious dick action and she's feeling something she ain't felt since forever. Pain. Pain. It hurts her. It shouldn't hurt her, you know her pussy should be Bubble Yum by now, but when this cat fucks her it hurts. It hurts just like it did the first time. You see the pain is reminding the fuck machine what it once was like to be a virgin. Hence, "Like a Virgin."

Our hotel smelled like dead hooker vagina (before you ask I had gotten a detailed description from beardown)

Our hotel smelled like dead hooker vagina (before you ask I had gotten a detailed description from beardown)

My wife said 2 things about Bernstein today:

"He sounds like a man that was never challenged to be a man."
"He gives a lot of opinions without probably having many life experiences."

Our hotel smelled like dead hooker vagina (before you ask I had gotten a detailed description from beardown)

:lol:

I love that movie. And the 1995 Best Picture went to Forrest Gump? Fuck you, Academy!

The prisoner wishes to say a word.

Freedom!!!!!!!!!!!!!