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**Michael Baldwin, Bruce**

On Jan 27, 12:01 pm, ah thole wrote:
Michael Baldwin, Bruce wrote:
ah lexa wrote:
Holly wrote:
ah wrote:
Holly wrote:
ah wrote:
Holly wrote:
ah wrote:
Wim Jay wrote:
On 25-Dec-2006, ah wrote:

Holly wrote:
ah wrote:
Holly wrote:
ah wrote:
Holly wrote:
Charles D. Bohne wrote:
On 10 Dec 2006 15:46:44 -0800, "Holly"
wrote:

Ohhhhh I jist haets u bullies.

And just look at all the mistakes I made, you have me so upset!

Leave me alone!!!
Crap!

I need of help?

Just call for AtomSuperCharles!

HoHoHo!!!!!!!!!!

C.

At least I fooled them and sneaked back in under a sekrit nick. I
got
to play the Idiotbot 14k and didn't lose too badly ~ just by 92
pts.
At least I could play without feeling so anxious. So now I have
to
sneak, sneak, sneak. They have taken over the Go website . . .
many
nicks and different levels of skill so they can stomp on poor
unsuspecting Go beginner players. They must feel pretty bad about
themselves if they get their jollies from such activities. AND
that
includes Ah. He isn't so nice as he tries to make everyone think
he is.

Bitch!

I love you.
--

Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off
any weather at all, and another storm brewing;
I hear it sing i' the wind: yond same black
cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul
bombard that would shed his liquor. If it
should thunder as it did before, I know not
where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot
choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we
here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish:
he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-
like smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor-
John. A strange fish! Were I in England now,
as once I was, and had but this fish painted,
not a holiday fool there but would give a piece
of silver: there would this monster make a
man; any strange beast there makes a man:
when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame
beggar, they will lazy out ten to see a dead
Indian. Legged like a man and his fins like
arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let loose
my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish,
but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a
thunderbolt.

I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die ashore--
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's
funeral: well, here's my comfort.

*drinks* . . . *sings*

add some lime juice to your rum. m'dear. It might not stop the scurvy toon
but it will help your teeth stop droppin' out. (This wos a pubic service
announcement form Captain Wim a scurvy old seadog wot always looks after his
crew.)

--

the folly of this island!

There are no Folletts on this island. Me and me hearties shot 'im.

Oho!

lalalalalalalalalalalalaalalalalalaallalalalalalal alalalalaalalalalalalalaa

Oh ****e! we need no ululating muslim female wailers on this night of all
nights! Could one of you aryans shoot her, please?

Alexa does not brook aryans.

Who needs Alexa to cross a brook? Splash! Swaomp! Slip n' slide.
Swoosh!

You are very agile.

Can, uh . . . nevermind.
--

Sing in the rain?

That, too,
--
ah

Hi ah, I missed you.

It's been a hell of a year so far.

Its only just started, ah thole.

I'll strangle you here right in front of Jesus!

Who? You? BWAWAHAHAHAHAHA! Don't make me laugh! You can't even choke a
darkie.